18
“WE NEED A minute,” I tell the doctor when he starts to talk.
“No, we don’t,” Saylor says, refusing to look at me. I stand in front of her, placing my hands on either side of the exam table, and lower my head so she is forced to meet my eyes.
“I can show you the world, Saylor. I can make all of your dreams come true. Don’t do this. Don’t spend your last days sick and in a hospital. Enjoy life.” I’m grasping at straws, trying to convince her. I’m panicking, doing everything but begging her, which I’m not above doing.
“You have an advantage. You won’t take another day for granted because you know how limited they are. I’ll leave the club. I’ll stay with you. We can do anything you want, just please don’t do this.” Her eyes are filled with tears, and she is smiling. I think she enjoys me begging her, but I don’t care. Whatever it takes.
“What about all those other people? I agree I have an advantage, but what about a child? What kind of advantage do they have? Knowing they will never get old, or drive a car, or a motorcycle.” She throws the last part in with a smile and I know her mind is made up. “I have the chance to potentially save lives. Why wouldn’t I do that?”
Because I’m a selfish bastard that wants you all to myself. I want to tell her that. I want to scream it at her, but I don’t. I just look at her in defeat. She really is incredible.
“How long we got before she has to start, Doc?” I ask, pressing my forehead against Saylor’s.
“No longer than a month, if possible.” That was too soon.
“I want to wait until after Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday and I don’t want to spend it in and out of hospitals.” Saylor’s demands are easily accepted. After all, they were at her mercy.
“I’ll set it up.” The doctor leaves, neither of us bothering to acknowledge him. I keep my head against hers, staring at the backs of my eyelids. Just being in her presence makes the world okay. When I feel her fidgeting, I know she is going to say something, but I have no idea what it will be.
“So are you breaking up with me?” Saylor asks, the smile on her face telling me she already knows the answer.
“I’m here until the end. I promise.” And if death came calling for me before her, then I’d fight him and I’d win, because this time, I was keeping my promise.
—
“Now, I don’t have time for all that damn crying. Y’all gonna have to get your shit together or get the hell out. Think happy thoughts and all that shit.” Saylor’s words were falling on deaf ears. I’m watching the scene unfold from my position in the kitchen. I’m propped against the counter, eating an apple, trying not to find too much humor in Donnawayne and Jeffery falling on the floor and rolling around like fish outta water.
They took the news of Saylor’s decision for treatment about as well as I did. Minus the whole rolling-around-on-the-floor thing. Apparently, they knew about the tumor and had made a pact to not mention it when they were together. Now that the timeline was confirmed and Saylor was starting treatment in just under two months, their pact had gone to shit.
Saylor looked to me for help and I answered her with my signature don’t-fucking-think-about-it look.
“Hey!” The crying ceased at her demand and she even had my attention. “Who is dying here, huh? Who is gonna be laying up praying for death in a couple months? Not either one of you. So don’t expect me to show you any pity. Stop acting like a couple of fuckin’ drama queens.”
When she stomped out of the room, I heard her door slam and I was ready to kill them for upsetting her, but Saylor wouldn’t want that. I figured I should say something, but decided against it.
I let Saylor fume and watched as the guys hugged, then made their way to the kitchen. They were comfortable here, making themselves at home. I wondered how they would feel if I told them I wanted to take Saylor back to Nevada. Since they were important to her, I guess their opinion mattered.
“I want to take Saylor back to my place in Nevada. She likes it there.” They both turn to look at me, surprised to find me addressing them. Or I guess that’s why they were looking around the room to see if there was someone else here.
“Isn’t that romantic?” Jeffery asked, just before Donnawayne decided to speak.
“That’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard. Why you wanna take her away from two of the three people in her life that she cares about?” I saw his point, and I wanted to tell his boyfriend the frown wasn’t necessary, but it was too late. I would regret my next words, but for Saylor, I would say them.
“Y’all are welcome to come up anytime. We have plenty of room.” Jeffery beamed. Donnawayne rolled his eyes. I’m beginning to think he is holding a grudge because of the whole nose-breaking ordeal.
“Well, I think we all need to let Saylor decide what is best. And whatever she decides is fine with us,” Jeffery says, throwing daggers at Donnawayne, who surprisingly agrees. He sighs dramatically, of course, and nods his head.
“I guess I need to go apologize to my girl. No reason in her being pissed at her favorite.” He saunters out of the room and I want to correct him on my girl and favorite, but it will just start an argument that will lead to me breaking his neck instead of his nose.
—
We fly to Nevada the next morning and aren’t out of the airport before my phone goes off. Nationals.
“Come to the bar. Bring Saylor.” That’s all that is said before Jimbo hangs up. I don’t know what this is about, but I don’t like that they just assume I’m gonna bring her because they told me to.
Roach was pissed at me the last time I saw him, and I don’t need him taking his anger out on Saylor. If I don’t go, they will come to me, and I don’t want our house plagued with anything that doesn’t bring Saylor happiness. A bunch of bikers showing up and beating my ass because I disobeyed a direct order would definitely not make for a happy experience.
“Who was that?” Saylor asks, as we make our way hand in hand to the exit.
“Jimbo.”
“Oh.” The defeat in her voice has me stopping and grabbing her chin, lifting her head to look at me.
“I’m not leaving you. They just want to talk. I want you to come with me.” The fact that it is them that want her there is irrelevant.
“Okay.” She forces a smile and I know she’s worried. Not because she thinks I’m lying, but because of what they might ask me to do and what will happen if I refuse them.
“There is nothing to worry about,” I reassure her, and she sees something convincing in my face because she now seems at ease with the situation. I just wish I was.
I don’t have to get a taxi because Shady is waiting for us when we walk out. I hate asking questions, but there is just something I have to know.
“Why the fuck do you always just magically appear wherever I am?” He laughs, Saylor chastises me with her eyes, and I ignore both of them. I want an answer.
“Well, Dirk. There ain’t very many people in the club you actually talk to. Since I’m one of the chosen few, the club deems it necessary that where you go, I go. With the exception of some places.”
He is talking about when I go on runs, but there is an underlying meaning to his words that he finds funny. I choose to ignore that too. If I think too much on it, it’ll just piss me off. But I’m already pissed, so I reach over the seat and slap him upside his head. He laughs and says he is kidding, but I know it hurt.
Next time, if he’s brave enough to do it again, I’ll cave in the side of his face with my boot. He will live, but he will look even more fucked up than he already does.
Saylor is looking at me like she can’t believe I just did that. I shrug and rake my eyes down her body. She is wearing leggings and an oversized sweater. Her boots have some kind of fur sticking out the top of them, and even though her feet have to be warm, I see she has her hand stuck down in the side of one, rubbing the bottom of her foot.
“It’s cold up here,” she says, and shivers again as she says it. I pull her legs into my lap and take her boots off, checking the inside of them to see that the fur is only on the top. Well that’s pointless. “They’re cheap. They look warm, but the air gets through them.”
“I’ll buy you more,” I say, while rubbing the life back into her feet.
“I’m on Coumadin. It’s a blood thinner. It’s supposed to help prevent clots, which apparently I’m more prone to, due to my fragile condition.” She dramatizes the last part and laughs. I smile at her. Saylor’s laughter is a beautiful thing. “Look, you can’t joke with me about buying me new boots. I kinda got a thing for them,” she says, pointing her finger at me. Good thing I was serious.
“Shady,” I call to the oblivious idiot driving us. I don’t look at him because I can’t pull my eyes off of Saylor, who is smiling with her eyes closed and enjoying the heated foot massage.
“Dirk.” Smart-ass.
“We need a mall,” I tell him and Saylor’s eyes open.
“A mall? What the fuck we gonna do at a mall?” I like that Shady is aggravated. I bet he has plans. I hope I fuck them up.
“Dirk is gonna buy me boots.” Saylor is talking to Shady, but she is looking at me, full of love and appreciation, and awe.
“Well, Dirk is gonna have to buy you some boots later ’cause it’s after nine and the mall is closed.” Saylor frowns, but I know she is only joking. “Now, I’m sure we can break in, but you are gonna have to be really quiet and do exactly as we say.” Shady acts as if he is talking to a child instead of a grown woman. He’s done it before and I’ve found it comical. Now not so much.
“Now I see why he doesn’t have any friends,” Saylor whispers, but it’s loud enough for Shady to hear. When he starts to protest she laughs, he smiles, and I’m so caught up in this moment that all I can do is what I do best these days, memorize. And the sound of her laughter is stored in that part of my brain I’ve reserved only for her.
Nationals are sitting outside, where it’s forty degrees, when we arrive. I guess they like the peace and quiet more than the warmth. I want to tell Saylor to stay in where it is warm, but she is latched onto my arm. I shake Jimbo’s hand, salute a few patch holders, then wait until Roach is finished talking with someone before I go to him. I’m not nervous, but I’ve got my guard up considering the last time I saw him he was chewing my ass.
We hug and there is no recognition of my fuckup on his face. He all but pushes me aside to greet Saylor, who takes his hand in hers and kisses his cheek. He offers up his seat under the heat lamp, and my worry about her getting too cold somewhat fades.
Small talk is made and I’m sitting on pins and needles waiting for him to get to the reason for our visit. He finally motions for me to walk to the other end of the outside patio with him. I look back at Saylor, who is being offered a cup of coffee by Shady. He sits down next to her and even though I don’t like it, I’m glad he is there to warn off any men with death wishes.
After about fifteen minutes of bullshitting, Roach leads me over to the other side of the patio, away from everyone else. “We got a problem, Dirk.” I freeze at his words. Not because of the weather, but because for the first time in my life, I’m not gonna be around to handle the club’s problems. I’m going to have to say no to him. To the club. I’m not torn about deciding between the club and Saylor; I’ve made up my mind. I choose her.
“Death Mob set us up, Dirk. They baited us and you took it.” Roach seems to age a year every second that passes. He’s scared. And because he’s scared, I’m scared too.
“What do you mean they baited us?”
“They ain’t building no army. They rolled up a few guys just to send them to Texas to die. The plan was for them to find your weakness. They found it when they found Saylor. They knew you would retaliate if they fucked with her. They didn’t do enough to warrant death though, Dirk. All they did was speak to her. It wasn’t bad enough for twelve brothers to die. They knew that. Now they have the ammunition they need to start a war.”
If Death Mob was willing to kill twelve of their own, then I know their reasons have to be good. I can’t imagine what could be worth so many lives. “What do they want?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“They want Texas.” Roach’s words are whispered, but there is no denying the powerful impact they have. Texas couldn’t be traded. Sinner’s Creed needed it to survive. Death Mob knew there was no way Dorian would just take it from us without probable cause. But to prevent a war, they would.
It was all about the business with them, and business couldn’t be conducted if we were too busy killing one another. So they forced me to kill, and were going to take it to Dorian if we didn’t hand them Texas. They would simply tell him of my transgressions, prove they have every right to retaliate, and inform him of a brewing war. To prevent it, Dorian would simply pull the plug on Sinner’s Creed, and Death Mob would take over our entire territory. We would become nothing. Our patches would burn, our brothers would be out of work, and our legacy would die.
“Put in a call to Dorian. Beat them to the punch. Tell him what happened. Don’t give them any names, just let them know that there was an altercation and one of your men took it too far. See what their solution is.” I can see the wheels turning as Roach contemplates my advice. It might not be the smartest move, but it’s the only one we have.
Roach starts to shake his head, already weighing the options and not liking the outcome. “I’m afraid that when this news hits the Underground, they’re gonna make Sinner’s Creed pay for it.”
“It’s the only shot we have. If we don’t give Death Mob what they want, then a war starts. More lives will be lost and Sinner’s Creed will still bleed, if not fold altogether.” I place my hand on Roach’s shoulder. “It’s our only hope. Maybe they have a solution. If we can stay whole, keep Texas, and get Death Mob off our asses, then it’s worth whatever price we have to pay.”
It takes a few minutes, but Roach finally agrees. “I’ll make the call.”
—
Shady took me and Saylor home and is staying for supper—Saylor’s request, not mine. They laughed the whole way here. It’s innocent and doesn’t piss me off. I like that they get along, and it gives me time to deal with what’s weighing heavy on my heart—Sinner’s Creed.
I leave them, mumbling some excuse for going out to the garage. In the cold night air, I try again to process everything I’d learned only hours ago. I didn’t know what the outcome would be once Roach notified the Underground of my transgressions, but what I did know was that it wouldn’t be something we liked. Being an outlaw came with a price. And I had a feeling we were fixing to pay for it.
“Dirk?” Shady’s voice cuts through my dark thoughts. Shit. From the look on his face, I can tell he has no clue. “You okay, man?” He knows something is wrong, but he is probably thinking of anything other than the truth.
“I need to do something. I’ll be back in about an hour. I need you to stay with her.” He nods his head, and I avoid his stare. I’m not one that is easy to read, but I don’t want to take any chances.
I take Shady’s car to the bar, where I find Roach along with all the other Nationals, still seated outside. An uneasiness begins to settle over me at the sight of all of them together. If they’d called a Nationals meeting, then I should have been invited.
Roach asks everyone to leave us, and they do. On their way out, not one of them can meet my eyes. When it’s only the two of us, Roach gestures to the chair next to him. “We need to talk.” His voice is weak and it’s like he isn’t here. He is only the shell of the man I once knew. He shifts, flinching as he does. When I lean in, he waves me away. I can’t make out much in the darkness, other than his face. It’s illuminated by a fluorescent beer light that hangs on the wall next to him.
“My days are limited, ya know?” I know, but it’s not something I want to think about. He has been old since I’ve known him. That’s been for over twenty years.
“There’s so much I wanna tell ya, Dirk. So much you need to know.” For some reason, I get the feeling he isn’t talking about the shit with Death Mob or Dorian. “I know you found that letter Black left you. I know because I went to your house and found the safe there empty.” I’m not angry Roach was in my house, if it’s mine, it’s his, but I am bothered by the fact he knew there was a letter.
“When you were born, I was told your life was destined to receive greatness. But the world you would’ve grown up in didn’t want you. I don’t know who your parents are. The man who took you to Black wasn’t even your daddy. He was just some guy who was supposed to watch over you. He got into some trouble and needed a place for you to stay. So he came to me. He wanted Sinner’s Creed to take you on as one of our own. Black owed me a favor. A big one. Life or death. So I made him a deal. If he took you on, raised you like his grandson, then I would forgive his debt to me. I’ve regretted it every day since. ’Cause ya see, Dirk. I owed some favors too.” I’ve never known Roach to apologize to anyone. And I’m sure this is as close to it as he will ever get.
“When I agreed that Sinner’s Creed would take care of you, my debt was forgiven. But instead of keeping you for myself, I threw you off on Black. I never should have done that to you. The only man who knows who your real parents are is dead. I can’t even offer you the peace of knowing.” It didn’t matter who my real parents were. Hell, they didn’t want me, so they hadn’t earned that title—or my respect. Roach was the closest thing I’d ever come to having a parent. And Black might have been evil, but at least he kept me alive—that was more than anyone else had ever given me.
I wait patiently for Roach to continue. I see him fumbling for something and pull my smokes out, lighting one and passing it to him before lighting one for myself. He coughs, which seems to cause him great pain, then wipes his mouth with a black bandana. If it were white, it would be stained in red with blood from his throat. This, I’ve seen for years. I’ve always ignored it because he did. No man wants to be pitied. Especially a man like Roach.
Once his breathing is under control, I brace myself. “I thought by giving Black a chance to raise you, it would change him. It didn’t. It made him worse. I’m not gonna apologize for that because I think your life with Black was better than the alternative. I knew Black was taking money for years, and I kept his secret. Because of you. I knew if they killed him my efforts would’ve been for nothing. If they put him out bad, I was afraid he would take his anger out on you. This club life ain’t for everyone, Dirk. It’s for sorry sons of bitches like me and Black. And troubled souls like you. But Saylor has changed you. You ain’t the soldier you once were.”
When Roach puts his hand on my shoulder and looks me in my eye, I feel a piece of me die at the desperate man looking back at me. “I didn’t talk to Dorian. I talked to Cyrus.” My heart stills. My breathing stops. My blood turns to ice in my veins. All because I know what’s coming next.
I’d given my whole life for Sinner’s Creed. My loyalty to the club was my greatest achievement. The MC was my world. It was all I had ever been good at. I’d never experienced anything outside of the club. Saylor was the closest thing I’d ever gotten to freedom from it. And she was the closest thing I’d ever get.
When my heart begins to beat again, when my breathing becomes regular and my blood warms, I know that I’m okay with this. I’m at peace with my decisions in this life, and I’m at peace with the decision that will take me from it.
I place my hand on my brother’s, trying to offer him some sort of comfort. Tears flow from his eyes moments before he breaks. I love this man. And I know that he’s loved me like I was his own flesh and blood.
“It’s okay, Roach,” I say, meeting his dead, lifeless eyes. The look in my own tells him that I can handle this. Once he composes himself, I light us a cigarette and lean back in my chair. “So, what was Cyrus’s counteroffer?”
“You already know that answer,” Roach says, the gravel back in his voice. This is the man I know. The one-percenter who trained me. The man who puts the club first—always, because that’s what a real soldier does.
“And you know I have to ask.”
If it weren’t for the regret in his eyes, I might think he didn’t care. But I know better. With a coolness only Roach is capable of, he delivers my answer in true Sinner’s Creed fashion—no bullshit, no reservations.
“You, Dirk. They want you.”