“If you’ve come all this way to read me the riot act, you wasted your gas,” I tell Jack once we’re seated on the back porch. “I’ve already heard it more times than I care to remember.”
Taking a seat across from me, he reaches behind him to untie the bandana tied around his head and runs his fingers through his graying hair. Eyes as dark as the soul of the man they belong to stare back at me and the last twenty years flash in front of me, reminding me of a time when we would race against the rain. Days when he and I would ride the wind and chase the sun on our bikes. Days when brotherhood was the conditioning of a man’s soul. Days when I was proud to call the man standing in front of me family.
“Didn’t come here to bust your balls,” he says finally.
Curious as to why he’s in front of me but not sure if I’m ready to hear what’s brought his pipes to my neck of the woods, I reach into my pocket and pull out my smokes. Taking one for
myself, I offer him the pack but he shakes his head and rolls up his sleeve to reveal a Nicorette patch.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I say surprised. He was trying to quit after he found out Reina was pregnant but with all the shit he’s got going on I would have bet my kidney he’d be back at it again.
“Nah, brother, I got an infant now. A boy,” he says proudly. “Gotta keep myself healthy enough to teach him how to run from the law and throw a ball,” he jokes.
I’ve never been very good at hiding shit from Jack so when regret washes over me, he sees it and the smile falls from his lips. Reaching into his cut, he pulls out a photo.
“This here is my boy,” he says, extending the photograph. “We named him Daniel.”
Blowing out a stream of smoke, I take the photo from him and avert my eyes to the chubby baby propped on the seat of a Harley. My lips quirk as I study his face and regret hits me harder. I should know this kid. He should know Uncle Pipe, just like his brother and sister did.
“He looks like Jack, doesn’t he?” he points out.
“Spitting image,” I reply, handing him back the photo and meeting his gaze. “Congrats, man. He’s perfect.”
“Thank you,” he replies, safely tucking the photo back into his pocket where I know he keeps a tattered photo of his first, keeping both boys over his heart. He stares at me thoughtfully; that twisted mind of his working hard to figure me out.
“You came up here to show me your boy?” I ask, putting out my cigarette before looking away, knowing what comes next. I wonder how he’ll spin the same sermon the others have all given me.
“We’re sinking, man,” he admits.
Hearing the desperation in his voice, I lift my eyes and look back at him.
“Got all these people I’m responsible for and I can’t keep them safe. I can’t keep them breathing because I don’t know what’s coming next. I sit night after night and wonder who’s next to die.”
If Jack had of come to me a month ago I would have attacked him. I would have kicked him out on his ass and told him he was right. I would have reminded him my wife isn’t breathing and I would have pointed a finger at him, knowing when a brother claims a woman she isn’t just his responsibility, she’s the clubs. But I’ve healed some since her death and I’m learning it’s no one’s fault. It truly could have been any one of our women that died that day. It could have been Jack’s wife. It could have been his daughter too.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a God complex?” I question, leaning back in my chair. His eyes lift and he nods slowly.
“You might’ve told me that once or twice,” he says, pausing for a moment. “You used to sit next to me and make sense of everything,” he recalls.
He’s right about that. For years I was the man who made sense of his head. I know Jack better than he knows himself, better than any of his brothers know him. I know that bitch of a maker lives inside his head and she’s calling to him right now, looking to stir shit up for the poor bastard. It’s the reason he’s here.
“Got yourself a vice president to do that for you,” I remind him. “Maybe you’ll listen to him one day because you sure as fuck never listened to me.”
“Sure I did,” he argues.
“Name one fucking time,” I dare, lifting an eyebrow.
“I listened when you told me you needed to leave. I stood away, gave you time and respected your wishes. I heard you loud and clear when you told me I wasn’t your brother anymore. I replay that day in my kitchen every fucking time I pick up the phone to call you.”
“And yet here you are,” I remind him, studying those eyes of his and watching the torment try to break free.
“It’s not just us anymore,” he says after a moment.
“It hasn’t been for a long time,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well it didn’t seem this hard back in the day. What happened to the days of riding and partying?”
“You went and got wifed up is what happened,” I mutter. Sighing, I roll my neck from side to side. I swore I wasn’t going to entertain this, but I also made a promise a long time ago to a little boy whose life ended too soon. The day they lowered Jack’s son into the earth, I laid my hand on that little white casket and promised to look out for that boy’s father. I wouldn’t let him suffer in silence. As long as I was around, that boy’s father wouldn’t suffer another mental breakdown if there was something I could do to help him.
“What’s going on, Parrish?” I ask, just as I have all the other times his head got the best of him.
He doesn’t respond immediately but after a few moments pass he accepts defeat and looks away.
“I’m losing it, Pipe,” he replies hoarsely. “Fucking losing it big time, man,” he confesses, turning his eyes to me.
“You taking your meds?”
“Lithium can’t make it right,” he says with a shake of the head. “It won’t help me catch the sociopath threatening to ruin the lives of everyone I’m supposed to protect. You know why it’s taken me this long to come to you? I’ve been meaning to thank you for what you did with the Brantley situation, for taking those bombs out of the garage and giving us the heads up we probably didn’t deserve. There just hasn’t been time since I’ve been locked inside my head after I rescued a woman. A woman who was ripped from the streets by a faceless man when she was fourteen years old. An innocent little girl who was raped repeatedly, drugged and sold to a piece of shit. That woman turned out to be Cobra’s twin sister and the man who took her, he took Cobra’s daughter too. He hired the men who raped Stryker’s girl and he’s the motherfucker who strapped that bomb to Ronan. That sick fuck has been fucking with everyone I care about and I have no fucking idea how to end him.”
He's right, lithium won’t save him this time and I’m not sure I have the words to make it right for him either. Listening to him describe the brutal dealings he’s had makes my blood boil. There are certain things we can withstand, devastatingly ugly things, things that we’ll turn our backs on deciding not to get involved in what doesn’t concern us. Child abuse and sexually assaulting a woman aren’t on that list.
“I don’t know how long I can go on failing,” he confesses. “If I don’t get this cocksucker, if he gets a chance to touch one more fucking person, I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror. Vladimir Yankovich has made me his fucking puppet and I’d rather be six feet in the ground than be the vile motherfucker’s lackey.”
“You’re not his lackey,” I argue, shaking my head as I try to wrap my head around all of it.
“Sure I am,” he growls. “I kill for him. I dispose of all the players he’s chewed up and spat out only hoping it’s going to bring me closer to him…but it won’t. It never will. I’ve got one shot to get him and I’ve got to send my brother who’s in a wheelchair into his lair and pray he doesn’t get killed.”
“Linc?” I ask confused, trying to place his part in Jack’s master plan.
Abruptly, he rises to his feet and shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” he continues. “I didn’t come here to unload this shit on you. Like I said, I wanted to thank you for the Brantley tip. He’s been a loose cannon since the department took down his partner and arrested him for stealing police evidence.”
I didn’t want Jack to end the conversation with Yankovich there but at the mention of Brantley and the new information about his partner, I got sidetracked.
“That public knowledge or Jones give that up?” I ask.
Jones has been on our bankroll since Jack took the gavel. He’s the best investment the club has made. For the most part he keeps our asses out of jail, but should any of us find ourselves doing a bid, Jones has the club’s back behind bars too. Not too many people can run shit from a cell but a Knight sure as fuck can when he’s got the warden on his side. That’s another asset we’ve obtained through our alliance with the good cop.
“Jones gave us the intel before it went to the public. If Brantley comes around these parts anymore you call me and I’ll take care of it,” he promises, glancing over my shoulder at my house. “Looks like you got a good thing here. I’m glad I got a chance to see that.”
“I didn’t expect it,” I admit, turning to my side. Spotting Layla and the kids through the kitchen window, I smile momentarily. They look good there.
“We never go looking for the missing pieces. They just find us when we’re least expecting it,” he wisely states. “I gotta hit the road,” he adds, causing me to turn my attention back to him.
“I shouldn’t have blamed the club,” I say finally.
“Not here to rehash that. You felt some kind of way and you acted on that. I’m not here to judge you for it, but should you decide you want your patch and your chair back it’ll always be there waiting for you. We’re family, brother. We don’t always have to play nice to give a fuck about each other. I know you got love for the club still. I also know you got something brewing here and you shouldn’t bypass that.”
“Losing Oksana made me realize how empty my life was, and now I need to figure out where to go from here,” I admit honestly, pointing a finger to my house. “I’ve never had this,” I tell him. “I’ve never had a family outside the club. I didn’t think I wanted one until I had one. Until I had them,” I continue. My throat suddenly feels tight as I think about how Layla and the kids have weaved their way into my life.
Into my heart.
A heart I thought was dead and now beats for them.
“I need this Jack. For the first time since I stepped off that bus, I want something more than the patch. Layla and her kids need to come first and everything else will come if it’s meant to be.”
Understanding, he shoves his hands deep inside his pockets and rocks back on his heels. The darkness lifts from his eyes for a moment and I catch the faintest hint of a smile
“Looks like you found your heart,” he states.
“I guess I did,” I mutter.
Another truth.
Stepping forward, he pats my back.
“Took you long enough, you old fuck.”
It sure fucking did.