“What haven’t we eaten?” She chuckled, and he smiled, hearing her happiness. She’d settled in the last few hours. That made his decision the right one. Nothing he wouldn’t give for her peace. “Your mom baked cookies with Harper, and I tried every one of them. I feel sugar sick. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, baby. I’ll let you know when I’m home. You don’t have to wait up for me.” He knew she would, and he wanted her waiting for him so he could hold her. “Hey, Zara?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Love you. You know that?”
She paused on the other end, the silence palpable in his ear, as if gauging his words and why he was saying it now. Then replied in a hot croak. “I love you, Ambrosio, more than ever. Is something wrong?”
“Not a thing. Marrying my girl, aren’t I?”
She chuckled lightly, “even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”
“Hardly, been wanting it for a long time. Listen, can you put Mad-dog on the phone?”
“Rider…” he probably should have called Ajax directly; she knew he never voluntarily talked to his father unless he had to. Now she was suspicious. “Something is going on.” She whispered because his parents were somewhere in the background.
“There’s no danger, baby. Tell you when I’m home,” he repeated. “Mad-dog, Zara.”
“Okay.”
The next voice on the line was jagged in tenor.
They’d made some inroads into changing their father-son relationship since the kids came along, but they were never going fishing or doing other father-son shit. It wouldn’t suit either of them. Rider had Uncle Jed for that stuff.
“What’s up, Rider?”
“I gotta go on a ride for a few hours. Can you and mom make an excuse to stay there with Zara and the kids? Don’t freak her out. Act like you’re tired or some shit.”
Which was gonna be a big stretch seeing as their house was only a few blocks away, and they could walk it home.
There was stillness and then the sound of a door closing. “Okay, I’m outside. What the fuck is going on? Do I gotta hop in the truck?”
Rider laughed. Some tightness in his chest loosened at the thought of his aging father, a once-renowned biker VP, hardass extraordinaire, rolling into battle alongside him.
“Nah, need you at the house. Pretty-Boy will be outside too. Nothing is happening. Just feel better knowing someone is there with Zara. She saw a Raging Rebels the other day.”
“The fuck!” His father cursed.
“Yeah. A new branch forming in Hades’ footsteps. I talked to them already, supposedly innocent, but my gut says differently.”
The slew of expletives to come out of his father was fast-paced. Rider let him go on for a second. “You gonna stay at the house?”
“Of fuckin’ course I am. That girl is my family too, Rider. You’re getting rid of them?”
“Yes.”
“Good, Son.”
He hated that his father’s praise all this time later still had the power to warm his chest. Behind him, he felt Hawk’s presence come back into the room. “I gotta go. Be home in a few hours.”
“Watch your six.”
They disconnected.
Hawk held two hunting knives and two of the club guns that were usually locked in his office. He offered the guns to Rider, who took them and put them in the back of his jeans after checking they had magazines. He’d take spares with him.
Climbing onto their bikes, the only time the pair stopped on the long ride in the next two hours was for a piss break.
Get in.
Get it done.
It was his only aim.
A prez rarely had the fun jobs.
It would be another stain on his already murky soul.
For love, he’d do anything.
For his Zara, he’d raise Hell.
TEN
“Going back in time to repeat the fun.” – Hawk
Only thirteen members, the Rebels new leader had claimed.
For anything else, he might have found a different direction. One that was less problematic for his club.
But this was about Rider’s old lady.
This was personally unforgivable how someone had put that cold fear inside her once more.
Innocent until proven guilty meant nothing in his world.
His gut told him guilty.
His fucking heart said guilty.
And his hunch was right when he and Hawk approached the shed on silent feet, having parked their bikes several blocks away.
“Listen.” Hawk mouthed outside of a back window, indicating to the voices they could hear from inside.
The darkness of night shrouded their approach. While Rider did the talking yesterday, Hawk’s watchful gaze had scouted out any security systems and saw none. It was going to make this easier if they didn’t need to wipe the videotape.
“Talked to the boss earlier,” that was Robert’s voice addressing his men.
The boss? Who the fuck was he if not the boss?
“He wants us to push through Denver. Westbank, especially Armado. Go hard, you hear? You don’t leave if you still have product.”
He and Hawk shared a fucking knew it glances.
“But for the love of God, use your goddamn heads this time, don’t wear your cuts. We don’t want anything to lead back to us, you listening? Next time I have to deal with Marinos before the boss is ready to and pretend like I’m a simpleton, I’ll fucking gut you.”
There was a grumble of agreement.
Then Robert started dishing out orders for selling their cocaine and Molly. They planned to hit nightclubs, colleges, and bars in his territory.
Some jackass was trying to make a name for themselves in his city.
What Rider saw when he peered through the filthy window was a crate in the middle of their table. Robert was handing out packages and instructions on which town to hit. If he had to guess, they
