Page 18 of Forsaking All Others

“I speak for myself,” he says, reaching for a light. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for that woman and if breaking Vivi’s legs is the only way I can pay her back, then so be it.”

After Ghost found Abigail in the bathtub, he tried to take his own life. Holly was still avoiding the clubhouse at all costs and didn’t attend the service we put together. But later that night, she went by his house to offer her condolences and found him sitting on the front porch with his lips wrapped around a loaded gun. Another woman would’ve called 9-1-1 and kept driving.

Not my Holly.

She fired off a text, telling me to meet her at Ghosts’ and parked her car. By the time I got there, the gun had been safely tucked away in her purse and Ghost was crying in her arms.

“Don’t go breaking anyone’s legs,” I tell him.

Keeping his eyes pinned to me, he blows out a stream of smoke.

“I wasn’t asking for permission, brother. The next time that skank gets in Holly’s face, I’m taking a crowbar to her legs so you better find yourself a new piece of ass.”

He ain’t bluffing and I ain’t complaining. As much as I hate to admit it, there’s a part of me that loves how protective my brothers are of Holly. At least I know if anything ever happens to me, they’ll take care of her and the kids.

“Do me a solid,” I say, motioning toward the front door. “Get the prospects to clean out a space…one close to the swing set…big enough for a trailer.”

His eyes hold mine as he lifts the joint to his lips.

“I just told you I’m gonna break that bitch’s legs and your response is for me to get the prospects to do some spring cleaning.” He shakes his head and takes a hit. “I may be fucked, man, but you’re pretty fucking gone yourself.”

Ignoring the jab, I continue.

“Get Ink to call Richie Valdez, tell him I need a trailer. Nice. The works.”

He blows out another ring of smoke, quietly assessing me. I don’t like to share mine and Holly’s business, but seeing as Ghost has a soft spot for my ex-wife and my head is currently still in a fucking tailspin from her showing up here, laying out all that she did, I clue Ghost in.

“It’s for Holly.” When he doesn’t say anything, I give him more. “We’re going to give H & M Recycling another shot.” He lowers the joint and I tear my gaze away.

I wasn’t lying to Holly when I said it was a good idea. It would be good for the club to have more legit money coming in, especially with our gun contract with the Corrupt Bastards being as massive as it is and with her and Colt’s current situation, her needing work and having to take care of Theo, it made sense.

However, her being here five days a week, that’s a fucking horrible idea for many reasons and judging by the smug expression on Ghost’s face, he gets that.

“Maverick.”

I turn my head and look at King.

“You’re fucking killing me, man,” he grinds out.

Right, I almost forgot…mayhem calls.

I leave Ghost to his blunt and make my way inside the chapel, taking my seat at the head of the table. King closes the door behind him, and I look across the table at my brother then back at King.

“What’s he got to do with this?” I ask.

“Really, Mav?” Shady hisses.

“Ain’t got time to watch you two partake in a pissing match so put your dicks away and listen up,” King grunts, his eyes finding mine. “Any minute now Jack Parrish is gonna be rolling through our gates with one of his guys and it’d be helpful if we didn’t come off as a bunch of cunts.”

My gaze narrows and I lean over the table.

“Parrish,” I repeat the name. It’s been a while since I’ve heard anyone mention the former president of the Satan’s Knights New York charter, but coast to coast, he’s in the books as a mother fucking legend. “I thought he retired.”

King’s lips quirk.

“Man stripped himself of his patch, but he never lost touch with the Devil. He still has a hand in everything.”

A couple of years back, the New York charter found themselves at a crossroads. The twenty odd years Parrish spent doing Satan’s work had finally caught up to the man and he decided to give his weary mind a rest, trusting his club and his legacy to Alfonse Scotto or rather, Wolf. The transition of power didn’t go as smoothly as it did when I was handed the gavel and the New York charter became the topic of conversation at every table. They found their way though, and from what I hear, Wolf has taken the club in a new direction. These days our friends up north don’t ride to chase hell as much as they ride to serve their community. They’re involved in several charities like, Bikers Against Breast Cancer, and if memory serves me correctly, Wolf opened a non-profit himself not too long ago. I ain’t knocking it, if a man can pull his brothers from the mayhem and find a way to survive on the straight and narrow, he’s a born leader and deserves respect.

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