Page 17 of Twisted Ties

"Yo! Pop, I'm getting hitched. I gotta get that off my chest first.”

"That's good son, I'm happy for you. What's her name?"

"Simone." I pause for a minute before I tell him the next part. "Pop, I gotta be honest with you, she's Hunter Jackson daughter." I grimace, waiting for the lashing, but it doesn’t come.

My father reels back as his eyes bug out. "Fuck!Does she even love you?" He’s cagey, but I know my girl.

"Yeah, Pop.” Now it’s my turn for the shit-eating grin. “That crazy girldefinitelyloves me and she's loyal. She proved her loyalty to the club; she's one of us with or without me."

My father bobs his head in doubt and narrows his eyes at me. "Bring Simone by, I'd love to meet her."

Bringing Simone to the jail is not something I necessarily want to do. I have to think about it for a while, so I brush him off. I wanna get to the real meat of why I’m here.

"Ha, yeah, we'll see. Anyway Pop, I've been thinking… I've seen a lot of shit go down over the years and the last time I asked about Mom, I was just a kid. You know, I'm coming to you man to man, I need to know what happened to my mother." I look my father dead in the eyes with aggression, demanding an answer.

"Yeah, I get it, son. Tell me, does Simone know who murdered her father?"

I’m silent for a moment as I look out at the other prison visitors. A punch to the guts is what I just received.

My father clasps his thick hands under his chin and stares me down.

"You see Sean, some secrets coming to light wouldn't benefit anybody, so they're just better off buried where they are."

Fuck.

***

We’re still waiting on this call and my head’s spinning over what my father said. I gave Simone hell, but if she knew my father killed hers, I would be the one on her hit list. Like my father said, it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. I’m in Simone’s room, trying to get some shut-eye, but can’t sleep. I get like this when I know shit’s about to go down. She’s giving me a dead arm, but I don’t give a shit. If my girl wants to be snuggling up under me, it’s fine by me. I slide my arm out with a smile through the dark as she stirs.

“Shh, I’m gonna get some snacks, go back to sleep, beautiful.”

“Okay, baby.” She flops her head back down as I slip out to the main clubroom. I can see Slash on the phone and that gut feeling I’ve honed over the years is on the money.

“Yo, Slash what is it?”

“We got a call from the prospects.” I look at the clock on the wall and it’s after one a.m.

“Traffic is low at the stash house. We’ve got the manpower to go in now. Let’s suit up so we can go get our shit back.”

“Right on.” Slash whistles through his teeth as groggy Dark Angels who’ve been lying on the couches wake up. He’s got that whistle down pat, it’s something Axe used to do as an alarm as well. Like father, like son.

My holster, gun, and bulletproof vest are in Simone’s room. I creak the door open, trying not to wake her, but she’s got those street-smart instincts and after years of having to be hyper aware, of course she hears me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” She turns over and damn, all I want to do is get back in bed with her.

“We got clearance to go get our drugs back. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“Okay, be careful. I love you.”

Those words are music to my ears. “I love you too, Mrs. Smith-to-be.” I give her a quick peck on the cheek, drop my Smith and Wesson in its holster, and slide my bulletproof vest on. I run out to Psycho, who is strapped more than any of us. He’s got some special skills and can break a man’s neck with his bare hands. Snatch is ready with his helmet in his hands. Slash and Bull are ready to roll as well. The other patches we have on deck are waiting for the next call from Slash.

“All right, we’re riding three upfront. Me, Bull, and Snatch,” he commands. “Sledge and Psycho, I want you at the back covering our ass. Patches ride in the middle so we got coverage at the front and back. Got it?”

“Got it,” I call out. I fist bump Psycho as I look out into the pitch-black darkness.

“Got your back. You ride ditch side cool?” he says to me.

“Done, brother. You got your knives tonight?”

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