There were days when I’d feel everything, and then there were days I felt completely numb. Those were the days I liked best. I didn’t want to feel. I wanted no pain. No regret. No misguided hope. Nothing at all. I’d spent years trying to find something that would help me do just that. I’d tried alcohol, drugs, women, and even therapy, but only because my commanding officer demanded it. I’d been imprisoned during my time in Afghanistan, and knowing what that shit can do to a man, he thought it would help with any issues I might have with PTSD. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The counselor tried everything he could to get through to me, but I just wasn’t ready to deal with the shit-storm that was raging inside my head, and there was nothing he could do or say to change that.

I decided to ignore what was happening to me, hoping that eventually it would all just go away. That didn’t happen. The dreams had gotten worse, and the dull ache in my chest only grew more intense. I was fighting a losing battle until I happened to stroll into a small bookstore on the corner of Broad and Second. The minute I’d walked through the door, an odd feeling washed over me, and I was taken back by the strange sensation as I’d stood there looking around. It was like I’d stepped into another world—a world where all my bitterness and regret no longer clung to me, and for just a moment, I could simply let go and breathe.

I don’t know why it had such an effect on me, maybe it reminded me of my home—my real home—where I’d always felt safe and at peace and loved and protected. I hadn’t felt that way since my family was taken from me. While the bookstore didn’t give me that exact same feeling, it was close. It felt so comfortable, so easy. There was never any fuss. I’d walk in and make myself a cup of coffee, then grab a book and find my way over to the sofa in the back of the store. It was quiet, but not too quiet. As I flipped through the pages of my book, I would hear movement at the front of the store, people whispering as they picked out a book, or the sound of the register after a purchase, and it set me at ease. In the beginning, that feeling was what brought me back here, but everything changed the moment the bookstore’s beautiful Latina owner, Alex Carpenter, caught my eye. Whereas in the past, I’d gone there looking for a place to take a breath and maybe find some possible insights to my fucked-up head, I’d suddenly found myself popping in regularly just to catch another glimpse of her.

Today was no different. After a long night of dealing with Boon, I needed a distraction, and like always, she’d done just that. For a few minutes, I was able to forget about all the bullshit and clear my head. Once I felt ready to start my day, I tossed my Styrofoam cup in the trash and carried my book back over to the shelf where I’d found it. I glanced down at the title—A Guide to Healing: Finding Your Way Through PTSD—and for a brief second, I actually considered buying the damn thing. While I knew I had some of the symptoms that were associated with PTSD, I wasn’t sure the diagnosis actually fit. The years I’d spent in Afghanistan were unforgiving, especially considering the time I’d spent in captivity and the amount of bloodshed I’d seen, but nothing that happened there could even compare to the hell I went through in foster care. The torture, the endless beatings and mental abuse I’d experienced during those years were enough to scar any man. It was tough, but even that wasn’t as devastating as losing the one person who actually understood what I was going through. My life was one fucking heartbreak after the next, but looking back, I realized those years molded me into the man I am today. Knowing there was no quick fix for the issues I had, I put the book back on the shelf next to the others. I walked up front where Alex was standing behind the counter, and she smiled as soon as she noticed me coming towards her. I gave her a quick nod as I placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and headed for the door.

Just before I walked out, she announced, “You know … you don’t have to do that.”

She rarely spoke to me, so her comment caught me off guard. “Do what?”

“Give me twenty dollars every time you come in. It’s really not necessary. It’s not like you ever buy anything, and the coffee is free for anyone who wants it.”

While she might’ve found it unnecessary, I disagreed. Every time I’d come in, I’d invaded her space, drank her coffee, and read one of her books without actually buying it. Giving her the money was the right thing to do. “And what if I want to?”

My rebuttal seemed to catch her off guard as her demeanor quickly changed. A look of panic washed over her as she stood there staring at me, and it took her several seconds to forge her response. She seemed almost flustered as she answered, “Oh, well … if you want to … that’s fine. I mean … It’s more than fine. I just didn’t want you to think you had to do it, because you don’t.”

“Never did, but thanks for clarifying.”

A light blush crept over her face as she smiled, and while it seemed innocent and sweet enough, I could tell there was some sadness hidden beneath it, which made me curious as to what had put it there. “Umm … Okay, then.”

Her stunning, dark eyes locked on mine as I nodded, and just before I turned to leave, I repeated her words, “Okay, then.”

“Hope to see you later,” she called out in a timid voice.

I looked back over my shoulder. “You will.”

I walked outside and over to my bike. After I hopped on, I threw on my helmet and glanced back over to the bookstore. I spotted Alex sitting at the counter with her head in her hands as she slowly shook it side to side, clearly rattled by our exchange. It was at that moment an odd feeling stirred in my gut, one I hadn’t felt in longer than I could remember, and I almost, almost fucking smiled. Surprised by my reaction, I started my bike and pulled away from the curb, pushing back those unwanted feelings as I head towards the clubhouse. It was time to see if Gus had been able to track down Jasper. Like me, my president was eager to find out exactly what was going on with Jasper and his new interest in our boys. When I pulled through the gate, Blaze and his son, Kevin, were outside talking to Riggs, and as soon as I parked my bike, Kevin rushed over to me with a big smile. “Did Dad tell you the news?”

Having no idea what he was talking about, I answered, “Not sure that he did.”

“He’s getting me a dirt bike!” he told me excitedly.

“A dirt bike? That’s cool.”

“It’s awesome! He finally said I was old enough to have a bike of my own, and he said you might help me fix it up if we brought it over to the garage.”

Along with being the enforcer, I also helped Blaze in the garage. While he mainly worked on remodeling vintage cars, I focused on classic motorcycles, bringing old, beat up bikes back to life. Thinking that a dirt bike would be a cool project, I nodded my head and said, “Yeah. I could do that.”

“I knew you would help.” He practically beamed as he announced, “It won’t be long before I’ll get a Harley and I can ride with you and the guys.”

“Easy there, killer.” Blaze chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. It’s a dirt bike to use out at the farm.”

“But it’s a start.”

“Yes, it is, and you’re right—it’ll be awesome,” Riggs added.

Blaze patted him on the shoulder and said, “Why don’t you run inside and grab your stuff. It’s time for me to get you back to the house.”

“Okay.” Kevin started inside, but then quickly stopped and turned back to Blaze. “You did tell Gammy and Pop that you’re getting me a dirt bike, right?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Dad, you know she’s gonna have a cow,” Kevin whined.

“I’ll handle your grandmother. You go get your things,” Blaze assured him.

Once Kevin was gone, I looked over to Riggs and asked, “Moose have any luck finding Jasper?”

“Fuck no, and neither have I,” Riggs grumbled. As the club’s computer guru, if there was anything tech-wise that needed to be done, he was our man. There wasn’t much the man couldn’t do—from hacking into major government sites to locating people who’d done everything they could not to be found. The man was a fucking genius, and it was clear he wasn’t happy that he hadn’t been able to find our guy. “It’s like the guy vanished into thin air.”

“Okay then, bring me someone who’d know where he was. I’ll get it out of them,” I assured him.

“You sure Boon doesn’t know?”

The mention of Boon’s name brought an idea to my head. “No, but he might know someone who does.”

“Worth a shot,” Blaze added.

“Yes, it is.” As I started to walk off, I looked to them both and said, “Let Gus know where I’ll be.”

“Headed that way now,” Riggs replied.

As he made his way inside the clubhouse, Kevin came rushing out and yelled, “Yo, Dad! I’m ready to go!”

“It’s about time. Get on the bike.” Blaze nodded, then added, “I’ll be right back.”

Just as I entered the backside of the building, I heard Blaze’s motorcycle pull out of the gate, and from the sounds of it, he was eager to get Kevin to his grandparents’ place. I took a few steps down the hall and entered the room where I’d left Boon. Smelling like something right out of the fucking sewer, he sat there bruised, swollen, and bound to the chair. With a pitiful expression, he looked up at me with pleading eyes and asked, “You gonna let me out of here or what?”

“Let you out of here? Now, why would I go and do that? We were just getting acquainted.”

“Fuck, man,” he groaned. “I’ve already told you everything I know. Just let me go.”

I had to fight the urge to strangle him on the spot. Boon had killed two of our handlers, and if the fat fuck thought he was going to walk out of that room alive, he had another thing coming. But there was no sense in squashing his hope—at least not yet. I still needed information from him, and I didn’t want to take the chance of him completely giving up on me. I crossed my arms as I looked down at him and said, “I have a few more questions for you.”

“I’m done answering fucking questions, man.” It had been eighteen hours or so since he’d experienced my handy work, so it wasn’t a surprise that he needed a little reminding. I was running low on patience, so I decided not to waste any time and went straight for the jumper cables. As soon as I reached my hand into the bucket of water and grabbed the wet rag his breathing became strained, especially after I placed the rag over his face. All it took was the feeling of having that rag on his face to help him remember the pain he’d felt the day before, and he quickly changed his tune. “Alright! I’ll tell you what you want to know!”

As I pulled the rag away from his face, I looked down at him and said, “Let’s go back to Jasper. Tell me about the deal he made with you.”

“He promised me five grand for each one of your boys I killed off. That’s all I know.”

“Five grand? That’s a lot of money for a man like Jasper.”

“I done told you that. I got no idea where he got his hands on that kind of cash, but he must be rolling in it now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“So, about a week ago, he hired me to take out three of your other guys for the same amount of cash. It wasn’t the kind of money I could pass up, so I told him I’d do it.”

“And?”

“Well, I was right in the middle of taking care of them when someone came up. Even though I didn’t get to finish the job, he still paid me a grand for roughing them up. Who the fuck does that?”

No one.

“Any idea where I can find him?”

“Jasper?” he asked with an overzealous shrug. “He’s got his regular hangouts. That’s where I always found him.”

“And if he’s not there?”

“Fuck, man. I got no idea.”

“I need to know someone who would.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “If Jasper was hiding out, there’s only two people who’d know where he was. His right-hand man, Hoss, or Milton.”

I’d known Hoss long before he started working with Jasper. We’d crossed paths a time or two in the military, and he was quite the character. There wasn’t anything the guy couldn’t do, but he was mostly known for his storytelling. With his thick country accent and charismatic smile, he never had a problem drawing the attention of a crowd. He tried to make everyone think he was just a good old country boy, but I didn’t buy it. The man was a trained killer, someone who was determined to get what he wanted, so I wasn’t exactly surprised when I discovered he was working for Jasper. Milton, on the other hand, was a name I hadn’t heard before. “Milton?”

“Yeah, that’s his cousin … At least that’s who he tells everyone he is. From what I’ve seen and heard they’re pretty fucking close … like too close for comfort kind of fucking close.”

I didn’t need him to spell it out for me. “I got it. Any idea where I can find this Milton fella?”

“No idea, but I bet Hoss could tell ya. I’m sure he’s been by his place with Jasper.”

Boon had been helpful after all. I would take that into consideration when it was time to end him. Figuring I could do us both a favor, I walked over and grabbed the water hose, its drain was centered in the middle of the room. Runt had it installed to help with clean up, and over the last few weeks, I’d found it very useful. I flipped it on and pointed it in Boon’s direction, attempting to wash his stench away. Once I was done, I released the chain that secured him to the floor and moved it over to the lock on the concrete wall, giving him a small amount of mobility. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some water and something to eat.”

Trembling from the cold water that clung to his skin, Boon looked over at the dirty cot like he’d just been given luxury accommodations. “Thanks, man.”

He’d thanked me too soon. It was only a matter of time before the man who’d killed two of our men took his last breath. Boon had given me what I needed to find Jasper and had done so without turning it into hours of senseless torture. He’d earned a couple hours sleep and one last meal, but then, like anyone else who double-crossed Satan’s Fury, he’d pay the ultimate price for his betrayal.