Chapter 7

Lawson

“Stupid motherfuckers,” I mutter as I jump off of the front porch and leave all five of those assholes in my dust.

If Drew wants to live in some swanky ass house that’s fine. So much for fucking loyalty. All he gives a shit about is his damn stomach.

Mine growls at the thought of more of that lasagna from last night.

Voices draw me to the front of the metal building we entered for the first time yesterday. Moving my duffel to my other shoulder, I peek around the house. Paranoia is vital in every situation. I can’t believe Jaxon and Rob just let me leave. I was so sure after last night there would be a Marine recruiter standing in the living room first thing this morning. It wouldn’t surprise me if the voices were coming from a group of guys heading my way to get me to step in line.

Instead of a mob coming after me, I find a group of guys, mostly in their twenties it seems, hovering over a motorcycle.

One guy, with his back to me, is struggling with the rear tire.

“He’ll never get it,” a tall guy mutters.

“This is fucking hard, you asshole,” the guy working on the bike hisses. “Harley’s are completely different from dirt bikes.”

“Rocker can do it in a couple minutes, and he started with dirt bikes,” a blond guy taunts.

“He’s been doing this shit for years,” the crouched guy complains.

“You don’t get to wear the cut until you can change a fucking tire,” the tall guy responds.

With my head down but still peeking over at them, I step away from the corner of the building. The crunch of my boots on the gravel draws the attention of several of the guys.

“Hey kid,” one calls out.

I bristle but keep walking with a firmer grip on the strap of my duffel bag.

“He may look like his daddy, but he sure as hell doesn’t have his personality,” someone taunts with a southern drawl.

I spin around, facing them but not knowing which asshole is bringing Jaxon up right now.

“Kid acts like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders,” a dark headed guy working on the bike adds.

“You got a fucking problem?” I ask the group in general.

“Enough,” a booming voice commands from the front porch of the metal building. The bald tatted-up guy, thick with muscles, looks ominous as he looms above us. “Scooter, you got that damn tire on yet?”

“No, Prez,” he mutters.

I chuckle, and several of the guys look at me.

“Think you can do better, Lawson?” Why in the hell does the Cerberus MC President even know my name?

“I wouldn’t be bitching and complaining. It’s a simple fucking tire, not a goddamned flat.”

Kincaid steps down from the front porch and gets closer to me. I don’t miss the fact that he keeps several feet of distance between us, and I appreciate the space.

He angles his head to Scooter who’s now standing, glaring at me. “Give it a try.”

I look at the curious group of guys. They watch our interaction with interest.

I take a step back, holding my hands up. “No thanks. He’s got that so fucked up, the next person riding it will end up as road kill.”

Scooter growls at me, but Kincaid stops his advancement with a hand on his chest. “That one then.”

I follow his finger to a magnificent bike, albeit a little dirty.

“Prez,” one guy mutters. “Surely you’re not going to let some punk work on your bike.”

“Shadow’s gonna be pissed if he has to fix something that kid breaks,” another adds.

All it takes is a quick look from Kincaid to make the heckling stop.

“Go ahead,” he urges when he sees the hesitation in my eyes.

Challenges like this I can take. The cockiness that has been forming all my life may be half false bravado, but my skills around anything mechanical are nothing but pure talent.

With a grumble, Scooter rolls over another jack, and I situate it under the bike. Once it’s suspended, I take a step back, envying not only the money a bike like this costs, but also the care that has been taken to maintain it. I shouldn’t expect anything less from bike lovers though.

All the tools I need are readily available which makes this even easier.

Less than ten minutes later, I stand, having taken Kincaid’s rear tire off and put it back.

“I’d suggest a power wrench for those bolts on the exhaust before you ride.” I swipe at the sweat trailing down my face with the bottom of my shirt. “The roads around here are complete shit. That tire’s liable to roll out from underneath you.”

“They are,” Kincaid agrees with a smile.

“He didn’t even take the caliper off,” Scooter mutters.

I cough, clearing my throat to keep from laughing at the awe in his voice. Growing uncomfortable with everyone shifting their attention between the bike, Kincaid, and me, I grab my duffel and start to walk away.

“A word, Lawson?” I stop but don’t turn around. He may have expressed it as a question, but the command in his voice is still there.

I hear his boots crunch on the gravel, but when I turn my head to look back at him, he’s walking toward the door he came out of a bit ago, not walking toward me.

“Can someone teach Scooter how to change a tire?” Kincaid says as he walks past the group. “It’s dangerous for him not to know how.”

“Lawson seems to be the perfect teacher,” the tall biker answers.

“Fuck that,” I mutter, as I follow behind Kincaid. “He’s unteachable.”

I chuckle when Scooter growls as I walk past.

A fellow biker claps him on the shoulder. “You can’t get pissed that the kid schooled you today.”

“This is the clubhouse,” Kincaid explains when we walk into the wide open front room of the building we arrived at last night. “Looks a lot different now than it did when your mom was around.”

I remain silent, not wanting to know if, as club president, he took advantage of what my mom was offering while she was here.

“Knocked that wall out.” He points to the area to the left. “Still have rooms down the hall to the right. That’s where the guys outside stay.”

“Where was my mom’s room?”

His steps falter, but he turns and faces me like I’m a man and not a child. I can tell by the clouded look in his eyes that I’m not going to like what he has to say, so I steel my spine. “Darby didn’t exactly have a room. She, umm… she stayed in different rooms while she was here. Same as all of the other women. Khloe was the only female who had her own room for a while, and that was only because she was underage when she arrived.”

I nod, trying to act like the man he’s expecting me to be. “I understand.”

And I do. My mother was always a giving person, be it the shirt off of her back, the last piece of bread in the cabinet, her body to any man that smiled her way. Realization is painful, but it’s no less the truth because of the pain in my chest.

“It’s the same now?”

Kincaid chuckles, but I can tell he’s not laughing at me. I suspect he thinks I’m wondering about the women for personal use.

“There aren’t any women around much these days. Original members have gotten married and built their houses out back, like your d-, like Snatch… I mean like Jaxon and Rob have.”

I follow him as he heads into the surprisingly clean kitchen off to the right and accept a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says with another smile.

“Back to your question. It’s not unheard of for one of the guys to bring a chick home, but they entertain in their rooms. We gather here sometimes. It’s the only place on the property big enough to house us all and summertime in New Mexico is brutal. We were having a Saturday lunch yesterday when you and your brother showed up.”

I appreciate the explanation, even more so since I don’t have to ask for information. I know he can tell I need it but would rather die than ask Jaxon.

“My girls Gigi and Ivy rarely come over here unless I’m here. Delilah keeps to herself mostly. The guys come over. Sam mostly. The younger kids tend to stick around the pool, especially this time of year.”

“There’s a pool?” I hadn’t seen one since showing up.

“Two actually. We have an indoor one. It’s in the building to the far right. That’s the one the kids use.” He points in the opposite direction as if I can see through walls. “The other one has a fence around it, but it’s for Cerberus members only.”

“Don’t want the dirty bikers around your kids?” I clarify.

He laughs. “Spot on, kid.” I frown even though I don’t think he’s using it in a derogatory way. “I have two teenage daughters, Lawson. Ivy, I don’t have to worry about so much. I’m sure she’ll find the love of her life at the library. Gigi?” He shakes his head. “She’s a handful. The more I can keep her away from the guys the less chance of me having to kill one of them.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I don’t miss his warning. Gigi has to be the one that put on the show with her tanning oil yesterday.

“Hands off,” I say with a grin. “Got it.”

After a long chug from his own bottle of water, Kincaid speaks again. “Where were you headed just now?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue,” I confide.

“Strong language,” he chides.

“I’m a man,” I say standing from my leaning position against the counter.

“Men don’t run from their problems,” he counters. “Where were you running off to?”

“I—” I shake my head and clear my throat. “I was trying to cool off.”

“In the summer heat with a heavy duffel bag? You were sure to fail just because you were attempting the impossible.”

“I manage just fine,” I hiss.

He holds his hand up. “Calm down. Life is about preparation. You have to be prepared for everything.”

“I’ve managed this far,” I mutter. “I’m prepared for anything life can throw at me.”

“You’re wrong.” The soft tone of his voice makes me uncomfortable. “You’re prepared for the bad, the ugly. You’re prepared to survive things no man your age should be faced with.”

“Damn straight,” I agree.

“But.” He holds a finger up, pointing it to the ceiling for emphasis. “You’re nowhere near prepared to accept help from Jaxon and Rob. You’re not prepared to understand that even though none of us knew you existed until sixteen hours ago, every one of us is here for you.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he interrupts. “You do need us. Drew needs us. There’s no reason for you to fight every day, to scrape for food, to get arrested for just trying to survive.”

Silence falls over the room as his words sink in.

“Did Jaxon tell you about his own youth?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Of course not. With that chip on your shoulder, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day.”

I shake my head. Why? I’m not sure. I don’t want to listen to him, no matter how much sense he’s making.

“No shame in just going back over there.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the house I never wanted to enter in the first place.

I knew less than a minute after slamming the door that I wouldn’t be able to walk away from my brother. I was afraid that they would use him as a bargaining chip to control me, but it seems Drew has found his own voice. It makes me both irritated as hell, as well as proud he’s finally growing into his own person.

“Jaxon makes like twenty different pancakes. You don’t want to miss it.” He begins to walk away. Stopping at the threshold, he turns back. “Your father is one of the most loyal men I know. If he seems agitated, frustrated, or unhappy it’s because of the years he’s missed with you in his life. His anger is with your mother, where it belongs. Not one bit of it is because of you.”

My heart pounds a rhythm matching his boots as he heads back out the front door of the clubhouse, no doubt to do whatever it was he’d planned before finding me facing off with his members.

I don’t want to stay, but I’m terrified to leave. Cupping my head in my hands, I crouch on the floor, trying to clear my mind enough to make the right choice.