Page 122 of Restless
Although it was cold and frozen outside, heat invaded him and sweat beaded his brow. He dry heaved, burning from the inside out. Needing water, he crawled to the edge of the sofa and somehow lurched to his feet.
Barely able to draw air into his lungs, he panted. Molly had said her father hurt her, but from everything Willard and Wallace said about Bash, from everythingBashsaid about Bash, Ryan knew he had a hand in this. Tom Harris, Molly’s father, didn’t shit without Bash or Cleaner’s permission.
If Bash was hurting Molly, that meant Harris allowed it to happen. Meaning if Bash was angry with Molly and her mother, he’d hurt them or have them hurt.
Ryan needed to talk to Bash.Stat.
On shaky legs, he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. The Harris refrigerator went from locked to gone. Only an old water line sticking out from a faded yellow wall remained.
Ryan walked to the sink, intending to take one of the glasses from the dish drying rack.
Instead, he met the half-closed eyes of Mrs. Harris, her mouth frozen in an o-shape, her skin gray, and her neck a bloody stump.
He fainted.
Interlude – By Any Other Name – Bash
Spine stiff and shoulders straight, Sebastian Caldwell II walked beside his father and his namesake, unable to contain his excitement. Recently, Daddy had named him the enforcer to the mother chapter of the American Scorpions. After years of working off the grid for the club, he now had an official position. Daddy promised he’d one day become the National President, and he trusted it would be so.
In his twenty years, Daddy never lied to him.
A blast of wind cut through his clothes, and he shivered. He wished they hadn’t parked their bikes half a mile away in an RV lot. Within five minutes, they’d left civilization behind and traversed through frozen wilderness.
If it wasn’t January, he would’ve been shitting himself. As far as he remembered from school, bears were in hibernation. If he would’ve known they were hiking backcountry, he would’ve worn warmer clothing.
“Goddamn it, the cold air is turning my balls blue, Daddy.”
“We’ll be inside soon enough, Bash,” Daddy said around a snicker, using the nickname Aunt Kimber gave to Bash.
He had vague memories of a beautiful woman with black hair and green eyes. She loved to laugh and joke and was the one person Daddy had real affection for. He still referred to himself as Cee Cee because of her, over a decade after her death.
“What the fuck is Sharper doing out here?” Daddy grumbled, stomping toward the big cabin finally within throwing distance.
They’d arrived in Whitehorse, the capital of Yukon, a couple of days ago after riding for nearly four thousand miles over five days. For the trip, they’d purchased Touring bikes.
Earlier today, Daddy had finally gotten the call he’d been waiting for. Daddy never offered answers and Bash knew better than to question him.
The door opened before Daddy climbed the first step to the wooden deck surrounding the cabin. Bash puffed his chest out a little further, comforted by the sound of Cee Cee’s jingling spurs.
The moment Bash followed his father inside the place, he rubbed his hands together, welcoming the warmth rising around him. Although a fire blazed from a huge fireplace, Bash didn’t think it was enough to heat the cavernous room. He saw no other source, however.
Daddy walked to the center of the room, where a long table sat, overflowing with food and alcohol on one end.
“It’s about time you arrived, fuckhead.”
Bash only recognized Sharper Banks because of newspaper and magazine articles he sometimes found in Daddy’s office.
“You’re lucky I’m here, motherfucker,” Daddy growled, “considering the fucking company I’m keeping.”
Bash wasn’t familiar with the other six older men. There was also a dude about his age and two boys, one white and one black.
“For once we agree,” the oldest of the strangers spat. He had graying hair and gray eyes. “I could’ve done without ever seeing you again, Cee Cee.”
Grinning without humor, Daddy touched Bash’s shoulder, then nodded to a chair next to a handsome blond man with the bluest eyes Bash had ever seen.
“This is my boy,” Daddy said, lighting a cigarette while Bash took his seat. “Sebastian the Second. Bash.”
“Hello, Bash,” the blond man said, and held out his hand. “I’m Joe.”
