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“Yeah, man. I’ll do it.”
Nolan nods. “Good.” He turns to leave but stops again. “There’s one more thing. The Wolf Warriors are merging with Lawless. I’m going to be Bear’s new second in command. I talked it over with Bear, and this is yours if you want it.” He kicks a bag at his feet that I didn’t even notice he’d brought in, then leaves.
I get up and empty the bag onto the bed. A new smelling leather cut falls out.
The back has The Lawless MC with their logo and on the front, is my name and a new patch underneath. LIFE MEMBER.
I sit.
They want me to be a part of something. Something bigger than myself. I shrug off the worn leather cut from my shoulders. The blank one that tells no stories and no lies. And I shrug on the new one. I pause in the mirror as I turn around and inspect the new logo on my back. I expect to feel overwhelmed. Suffocated.
But I don’t. I feel warm. Comfortable. I can breathe again; the same way Frankie makes me feel I can breathe again.
I feel like I belong. To these people. To the club.
To Frankie.
After thirty some odd years adrift, I’ve found my place in the world.
Who’d a fucking thought.
Chapter Sixty
Three weeks later
“Sit,” he demands, and I’m too tired to fight so I take a seat at the edge of the mattress.
Recovering is exhausting.
Smoke hands me a manila file. “I have something for you.”
“What’s this?” I ask.
Smoke takes off his cut and hangs it over the back of a nearby chair. “Something didn’t add up to me about your father, who was an accountant and a money launderer, suddenly taking up something like human trafficking. One doesn’t exactly lead to the other. So, I had Nine look into it for me.”
I open the file and gasp because at first, I think it’s a picture of me I’m staring at, but it’s not me. It’s my mother. “What is this?” I ask scanning my eyes down the page. It’s like an HR file, but it’s not about her work, it’s a resume about her life. Smoke points to the bottom of the page where it says in big red bold letters. DECEASED May 13th, 2012 in Mumbai India.
May 13th was two days before I found my father’s body in the basement.
“That’s wrong.” I say shaking my head. “She didn’t die in India. She was here. And the date’s wrong. She died when I was a toddler.”
Smoke shook his head. “No, she died in India three weeks after being kidnapped coming home from work at the dentist’s office…by Griff’s men.”
Panic hits me in the chest like I’d been struck with an arrow. Sharp and deep. I look to Smoke, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s looking down at me cautiously like he’s waiting for whatever it is he’s trying to tell me to sink in. Finally, it does. But sinking isn’t just the feeling I get when the information hits my brain, it’s my heart and soul shriveling up, pitting in the bottom of my stomach.
“She was sold into human trafficking,” I say on a whisper as the bile rises in my throat, and I can actually feel the tearing of my heart as it pulls apart. I sink down, but Smoke catches me before I hit the floor, pulling me onto his lap.
“Look at me,” he demands, turning me to face him.
I look up at him. The file falls from my hand to the floor and papers flutter all around the carpet as my arms fall limply to my sides. I search Smoke’s eyes, but I don’t feel anything but a sickening awareness of what had been done to my mother.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask, my voice a weak rasp.
I search for anything in his expression that will tell me that he’s trying to intentionally hurt me, but there’s nothing but stern calmness. A well-built ship navigating stormy seas.
“Yes, your mother was sold into slavery. We don’t know the details of what or who killed her, but we know her body was found off a road connecting two towns.”
“I don’t…” I start, but Smoke isn’t finished.
“Frankie, your father knew. He found out she’d been taken and the reasons why.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Frankie, your old man still did all the bad shit. He transferred all the money for Griff. He contributed to a lot of deaths and his share of despair. That much is true. But the reason why he did it wasn’t greed,” Smoke says. “He was trying to find her. Your mom.”
“Oh my god,” I say as his words sink it. I press my face into Smoke’s chest and my tears are absorbed into his shirt. “He was looking for her. But he still hurt so many others.”
Smoke nods again. “He did,” he admits, holding my face in his large rough hands. “He hurt a lot of people. People died because of him. Women. Men.” The sinking feeling returns. “But you can’t blame him. He was willing to turn Heaven and Hell over searching for your mom. He was willing to kill everyone standing between him and her.” He leaned in close and brushed his lips lightly over mine. “I know the feeling, hellion.”
My chilled blood warms. Smoke had just given me the greatest gift I’d ever received. He’d given me my family back. My father.
Who didn’t die of a heart attack, but of a broken heart.
The door creaks open. “Got a minute?” Nine asks.
I look up from Smoke to Nine who gives me a thumbs up.
“I…I have something for you, too,” I say with a sniffle.
Smoke’s eyes grow wide. He turns around slowly as the most beautiful sound in the world floats through the open door from the courtyard.
Toddler giggles.
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
We’ve taken up permanent residence in The Warden’s cottage. After working day and night for months, I finally have a set-up with an internet speed measured in a unit faster than the time it takes an ox to plow a field, and the room with all the storage is now a princess room for Smoke’s daughter who Nine found using the files from Griff’s server I’d sent him before Griff put a bullet in my gut.
Her name is Morgan, and she is Smoke. Dark hair. Dark eyes and a total brute. I’m completely in love with the both of them.
We’re a team now. The three of us.
I continue saving lives, but with Nine’s help, I’ve become completely untraceable. Smoke’s been spending more time with King, Bear, and Preppy, but he’s bonded with Nine most of all.
Smoke has yet to put on the cut, officially that is. Even though I know he wants to. Bear said it’s his decision, and he can take his time. I’ll know when he’s ready because the cut will no longer be hanging off the chair in the corner of the living room.
He won’t let me hang it up. I think he likes to know it’s there. Not just the cut. The option. The club. The people. Bear, King, Preppy, Rage, Nine. They all stuck their necks out for him.
For me.
I don’t think he can put on the cut until he gets used to the idea that once he does, people are going to be sticking their necks out for him all the time. No questions asked.
