Page 77 of Harper's Song

“It’s the luck,” he tells me. “It’s gone wild.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking into his psychic’s orb eyes in which our future is now finally laid out from here until forever, everything beautiful and perfect, no more darkness in sight.

“The luck that always comes to help me find you when I get lost,” he says. “But I don’t plan on getting lost again.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear,” I say and he scoops me up and sits me down in his lap and holds me as we kiss. And I know that as soon as we get out of this sterile hospital room, I will have everything that I ever wanted and ever could want.

Or no, I already have it even here.

It’s in this kiss, in his strong arms around me, in the knowledge that all our problems, big and small are a thing of the past. And our future is as bright as the images I saw in his eyes, and as beautiful and perfect as the ones popping into life as we kiss.

* * *

Jax

Three days later, I had a new name—Martin Smith, of all things—a new birth certificate, and in a lot of ways, a new life. I’ll stay Jax to everyone, just gotta be careful out there on the road and I don’t much mind ditching my father’s last name.

The feds bought the charred body found hanging off a hook in the torture room as being me. They couldn’t get any DNA off it, but they got plenty of it off the electro shock machine and the blood all around it.

I’ve spent the last three days with Harper at Sanctuary, eating good food, getting lost in the forest that covers this hill the house is on, listening to her sing the new songs and falling asleep next to her.

But today Cross and the rest returned from Idaho and I’ve been called to Cross’ office where he, Scar, Hawk, Rook and Tank were already waiting. I got the new papers, was told the story and had to make some promises I should’ve kept a long time ago. Never to betray the club again was the gist of them. In thought or deed. It was an easy promise to make, and I tried not to apologize too heavily and look like a whining pussy.

I’ve never been in this office before and I don’t necessarily see myself in here often after this. My place is by Harper’s side and I told them this in as uncertain terms as I dared, given that I’m still on probation.

But she’ll need a bodyguard. And I’m perfect for that. That kinda thing. They accepted it. She is one of their MC Princesses after all.

Cross is sitting behind his desk, Tank and Scar are on the black leather sofa and Rook is occupying one of the arm-chairs, and everyone’s looking at me. I’m standing by Cross’ desk holding the folder of papers containing everything I need to be the new me.

“Sit,” Cross tells me even as he stands up.

I take the other arm chair across from Rook.

“The Renegades and all the rest who banded together against us have dispersed,” Cross says as he walks over to us. “We only fought one group and the rest all ran as soon as they found out what happened at the farmhouse. The president of the Renegades died there, as well as his oldest son so they’re leaderless for now. But they’ll be back.”

He takes a pause to let all that sink in.

“Snake might’ve survived,” he continues. “He wasn’t listed among the dead as far as we can tell. He’ll take over the revenge war now.”

A solemn silence falls and persists for a few moments.

“Meaning we’re at war,” Tank says. “Just like old times.”

No one reacts to that and the words echo off into another silence.

“Your father has reached out,” Cross says to. “He wants our protection. What do you think?”

The question comes completely out of left field. Thing is, I expected it would be my father, if anyone, who would come save from that torture chamber. In my darkest moments, when death was nearest, I hoped he would come. Might even have called for him. My memories of that session with the shocks are still patchy, but they’re coming back.

He didn’t come. Of course he didn’t. He’d never been there for me before.

“I wouldn’t trust him. He turns as the wind blows, but he’s always been loyal to the Renegades,” I say.

Sure, a part of my mind is screaming for family, annoyingly suggesting I should ask Cross to bring him in so I could finally have the father I never had.

But the Devils are my family. They took me in, they raised me and looked out for me, and now they’ve forgiven me for acting out.

“He’ll find his way,” I add. “He always does.”

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