Secrets and lies are the cancer of a person’s soul. They eat away at what is good, at what is righteous and leave only destruction and grief behind. They turn brothers against one another and spread evil through their veins. If you don’t believe me, open the Bible and turn to the story of Cain and Abel.
A minute hadn’t passed after Wolf declared me the son of Satan before I was dragged across the garage and tied to a chair. At Jack’s command, Blackie did the same to Wolf. Once we were both bound and at the mercy of the club, it was Jack who doused us in gasoline. Surrounded by the men we called our brothers, the men we gave our loyalty to and promised to sacrifice our lives for—we waited for those men to light the match and send us to Cain.
“Jack, what are we doing?” Pipe questions. Stepping next to Jack, he keeps his eyes firmly locked on Wolf. “You’re going to kill him,” he starts, turning to me. “You kill the both of them and we’re back at ground zero,” he levels. “Now, come on. You know Wolf. You know he’s a loyal motherfucker who if nothing else, deserves the chance to explain himself.”
“Jack,” Anthony calls from behind him.
As the club tied me and Wolf to the chairs, Artie peeled the duct tape from Bianci’s mouth. He dismissed half his men and the ones that remained pulled up a chair, settling in for the Jack Parrish show.
“Hear him out,” Bianci growls hoarsely. “Or don’t,” he continues. “But, we’re running out of time to make this right. Victor would’ve wanted answers too.”
Running his hand through his salt and pepper hair, he tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants. His dark eyes dart around the room and with a newfound adrenaline, he charges to the corner of the room. Pulling a crate out from a pile of junk, everyone watches as he drags it across the cement.
The smell of gasoline burns my nostrils and stings my eyes as he positions the crate in front of me and takes a seat. Raking his gaze over me, he leans forward and grabs my chin. His eyes narrow as he stares into mine and I wait for him to say something.
“I wanted to tell you,” I croak.
“It’s true, Parrish,” Wolf says.
“So, you knew who you were, and you lied to us,” Cobra snarls. “You knew your father took my sister this whole fucking time.”
“No,” I exclaim, turning my attention. “I know next to nothing about Cain,” I confess. “Yes, I’ve always known he was my father and my mother made no attempt at hiding the fact he was part of this club but, for eighteen years that’s about all I knew. That, and the fact that he was a junkie who lost his life to the struggle,” I add, turning my head. Taking in Wolf’s profile, I continue. “It wasn’t until my mother called Wolf, that I learned he was hated by many and it wasn’t until I woke up from the coma that I discovered he took his own life.”
“Cain didn’t take his own life,” Blackie interjects. “He was sick.”
“Yes, he was sick,” Wolf says, raising his head to meet Blackie’s intense stare. “But he didn’t die from the cancer. I should know because I was there.”
“You told us you found him dead in his bed,” Pipe recalls.
“The night he died he called me and asked to meet him, said he wanted to discuss Jack and the transition of power,” Wolf reveals. “When I got to his place, he had a buffet of drugs spread out beside him and his cut was burning in a metal trash can outside his window. I asked him what was going on and he told me he was done. He was done fighting, done living…done with everything. That he didn’t want to leave the Earth on someone else’s terms, that he wanted to go out with dignity.”
I expected to feel something. Grief or remorse. I felt nothing and the more he revealed the more I wished I never was born Cain’s son.
“That’s when he asked me to stay with him and hold his hand as he took his life,” Wolf rasps. “I tried to talk him out of it but, that wasn’t why he called me. His mind was made up and whether I held his hand or not wouldn’t change his plan. I hunkered down beside him, watched him down a bottle of pills and fill a syringe. He started talking about you,” he says, turning to Jack. “Praised you up and down, Parrish, claiming you would fix all that was wrong in the club and asked me to help you do so. He said you were the hallelujah the Satan’s Knights needed to clean the mess he left behind. You, Jack Parrish, would be the man who turned everything around and changed the game. The man no one saw coming and the one everyone doubted.”
Jack stares at him blankly, hanging on Wolf’s every word like everyone else in the room.
“Then he told me about Phyllis,” he continues, turning his attention to me.
“Phyllis,” Pipe repeats. “She hightailed it out of here before we even knew he was sick.”
“She left because she was pregnant and feared for the safety of her child,” Wolf continues, meeting my gaze. “Cain set her up in Nashville, far away from him and far away from the mess he created. He told her if she or the kid ever needed anything to call me but, I didn’t know that until the day he died. Until he pulled out a picture of a baby boy and made me promise to look out for him if his mother should ever call in a favor. Then, he filled his veins with poison and I watched the life fade from his eyes.”
At that, I bow my head. Still, numb and unable to feel an ounce of compassion.
“We buried Cain and Jack took the throne,” Wolf continues. “You did everything he said you would. Drugs were an epidemic on these streets until you and Victor joined together to clean them. We gave you hell for your involvement with Pastore but, you got it done. The two of you fought tooth and nail, to rid New York of the pollution Cain’s anarchy left behind.”
“I know what I did,” Jack growls. “What I want to know is how Yankovich is tied and why this fucking kid has been sitting at my table.”
“Phyllis called me eight years ago and begged me to come help her with her son. She had moved to North Carolina and her son had gotten into trouble,” Wolf reveals. “His girlfriend was murdered, and Phyllis feared Lincoln would be next. When I arrived at the trailer, Linc answered the door and I knew right away he was Cain’s kid. He looked just like him,” he says, turning to me. “Still, resembles him quite a bit.”
“We missed it,” Pipe grunts. “Now, get to the fucking point.”
“Do you remember where we were eight years ago? The state of the club? Yankovich wasn’t on our radar but, we were scrambling. The gun deals were going bad, the Chinese were starting to move in and every mobster looking to wipe Victor off the grid was banging on our door, trying to turn us. All of Cain’s enemies were biding their time, waiting to strike and take their due revenge. Bringing Cain’s son into the fold only would’ve made us more vulnerable and Linc a target. I took him to Sin’s charter in Raleigh. It was the easiest place to keep tabs on him and I knew he would be safe as long as he never told anyone who he was.”
“All those trips down there were so that you could check in on him,” Blackie accuses.
“Partially,” Wolf agrees. “My sister shacked up with Sin and those visits were like killing two birds with one stone. I got to check in on her and my niece as well as Linc.”
“Does Sin know he’s Cain’s son now?”
“No,” I answer, giving Blackie my attention. “Until now, the only living people who know I’m his son are me, Wolf and Kelly.”
Wolf’s head turns at that.
“I started prospecting hoping I would learn more about my father. The man he was and the club I thought he loved. I believed with my whole heart, I was destined to be a Knight like my old man, that there was some legacy I was born to follow. The deeper I got with the club, the more I realized there was nothing glamorous about being a Knight. Desperate to know who my old man was, I sacrificed my soul and became nothing more than a murderer. Jack, you gotta believe me when I tell you, it wasn’t until I came here that I understood what being a Knight truly meant. It was at your hand, I learned I could be proud of the reaper on my back. It’s here, on your turf, I learned there was more than mayhem.”
“Were you ever really a nomad?” Stryker asks.
“No,” I admit. “I came here after an ambush in North Carolina struck and one of my brothers lost his old lady. I didn’t want Kelly to end up like her and at the time, Wolf was looking for new blood. Me coming here seemed like a solution to both of our problems and as long as no one knew I was Cain’s son, then his enemies wouldn’t strike.”
“Get to the part about Yankovich,” Jack demands.
“A couple of weeks ago, Linc wanted to tell you the truth. He started talking about recent events and the more thought he put into his words, the more he spoke out loud, the more I saw the pattern. It didn’t make sense though, and I knew there was something missing.”
“What pattern?” Cobra grunts.
“Yankovich first struck with the bomb. He never intended for any of us to survive,” I explain. “He was looking to wipe us out and when he failed, he hired men to rape Gina. At the time you didn’t know if it was a play on the club or a move to overtake Rocco’s place. Victor leaving his empire to his nephew made for a lot of enemies. Then, Rocco discovers Yankovich, and we tied him to Ally’s disappearance. It’s too convenient that Cobra’s past bleeds into Gina’s rape and the bomb. Then he takes Cobra’s daughter and his ties to Albany come to light, connecting Stryker’s past to all of this.”
“Where are you going with this?” Blackie demands.
“So, you got two out of four men, new to your club that somehow have had their pasts intertwine with Yankovich. Next, is Deuce and Ally. Yankovich hits their car, spooks Ally but lets them go, knowing all the while Ally can break him. She’s the one person, the one liability who can destroy everything he’s sought. The fire happens. The club in Texas and the girl who coincidentally happens to be one of the girls Yankovich sold. That’s three out of four.”
“Leaving you for last,” Blackie acknowledges.
“I started to think that it was possible Yankovich knew I was Cain’s son. The man knows everything else, how can he not know that.”
“It didn’t make sense to me without a motive,” Wolf explains. “Before I brought it to the clubs attention, I needed to be sure that what Linc was implying held any kind of merit.”
“Linc’s suggestion being Yankovich is using the nomads somehow,” Pipe reiterates.
By the tone of his voice I know he doesn’t buy it. Like Wolf, he’s trying to understand how it all fits.
“It was possible, but I couldn’t grasp it so, I started playing things back in my head. I resurrected old enemies and scores. I went through every piece of paper I could find in the storage container. For weeks, I dedicated every minute to uncovering Yankovich’s motive, and the answer has been right in front of us,” he says turning to me.
“He knows who you are,” he rasps, turning to Jack. “The way you paired with Victor to change the direction of the club, Cain had partnered with Yankovich in the eighties. Cain didn’t kill himself as a cop out to cancer. He took his life because it was the only way to free himself from his ties to Yankovich.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Cobra asks, focusing on me. “Are you saying this fuck’s father took my sister? That my club had a hand in the torture she lived through?”
“There is no proof that ties Cain to Ally’s disappearance, but he knew what Yankovich was doing. He knew about the girls. I’m sure of it,” Wolf confesses. “And he paved the path, allowing Yankovich to move his product and the girls.”
The truth is vile, and I struggle to hold myself together. Unable to look at anyone, I cast my head downward and feel the shame of the man who made me.
“Okay, so Cain was working with Yankovich,” Pipe says, swallowing the foul taste the words leave. “He’s been dead for years. Jack’s turned this club around. We’re not in the business of girls or drugs. Why is he here? What does he want?”
“He want’s what he thinks is his,” Wolf shouts. “He wants to take over Victor’s territory and wipe us off the map. No one was expecting Victor to leave everything to Rocco.”
“Where’s Rocco?” Bianci questions.
“He was shot outside Lincoln Center. No one knows where he is,” Stryker supplies.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Artie informs us.
“He’s moving in,” Wolf tells everyone. “I’ll bet my life, he’s the one who shot Rocco, and he’s coming for us next.”
“It makes sense,” Blackie says. “With Rocco out of the picture and us on our knees, Yankovich can sweep in and take back the streets he thinks are his.”
The sound of the crate screeching across the cement causes me to lift my head. Meeting Jack’s gaze, I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Cain killed his brother,” he says thoughtfully. “In the Bible, Cain belonged to evil. He murdered his brother because his actions were righteous. His intentions pure.”
“I’m sorry,” I say hoarsely. “For my deceit and for the crimes of my father.”
“Parrish?” Pipe calls.
“Untie them,” he orders, calmly.
“Jack, talk to me, man,” Blackie tries, stepping next to him. “You gotta tell us what’s going on in that head.”
“Untie them,” he repeats.
Before anyone can follow his command the sound of tires screeching across the asphalt echoes off the walls, causing everyone to turn their attention to the lot and the car headed straight for us. Instinctively, Artie and his men draw their weapons. Wolf’s voice bellows, begging them to drop their weapons.
“Don’t shoot!” he screams. “It’s my son.”
Nico’s car barrels through the garage causing everyone to jump out of the way. Smoke rises from the engine as it crashes into a wall.
“Nico!” Wolf shouts, struggling against his restraints. The driver’s door opens, and it isn’t Nico who emerges from behind the wheel. His middle son, Vincenzo, barely acknowledges any of us as he moves to pull the back door open. The youngest, Frankie, steps out and that’s when I notice the blood covering his shirt.
“He was shot,” Vincenzo cries as both brothers pull Nico from the back seat. “Help him!” he demands. “Someone, help him.”
Dread churns inside me.
A pair of eyes flashes before me.
A smile meant for trouble haunts me.
“We found him like this at your house,” Frankie reveals.
Watching Stryker and Deuce lay Nico on the ground, I lift my head.
“Is he breathing?” Pipe questions.
“Someone fucking untie me,” Wolf shrieks.
“Nico, kid, you hear me?” Blackie questions, kneeling beside him.
Pink hair, blonde hair—every shade fanned on my pillow.
Every I love you.
Every promise.
Every word.
“Kelly,” Nico mutters.
“What about Kelly?” I question.
Vincenzo lifts his head.
“She’s gone.”