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I thrust my hand into the air as we sped down the road. I twirled it around once, then gave the signal. I held up the number ‘two’ with my fingers, instructing the men to disperse, to go carry on with their days so I could do what needed to be done. It was time for us to get paid again. Time for us to bow down to the darkness we sold our souls to. I heard men darting to my left and right. I saw Rupert speed ahead of me and pop a wheelie before cruising past a police officer that flashed his lights.
“Better run, boy,” I murmured.
I settled in for the ride as I slowed down. I wanted to take this drive slowly, drink in the world around me. Because every job came with a risk I knew I had to take. As president of the Red Thorns motorcycle gang, it was my job to see to it that my men always went home. That they always came out of things alive. Even if it meant my own life in the process.
It came with the territory.
And it was a risk I was always willing to shoulder.
The Red Thorns had been through some shit in their history. My father had established the crew after parting ways with a particularly nasty gang that used to roam these parts. He was the only man in gang history to successfully leave. Before he left, he had to endure a serious amount of ridicule and physical pain, as they burned the crew tattoo right off his back with a brand from a bonfire.
I shivered every time I saw those scars on my father’s back.
He’d established the crew I headed up now. But he wasn’t a fan of me trying to clean them up. My father was a ruthless man. Angry at what his former crew did to him. What they put him through. What they’d expected of him. They’d turned him into a dark man, and the irony was that he thought he was doing this world a great deal of good. He had become the kind of man he’d tried to get away from, and he didn’t even realize it.
I saw it, though.
And so did my older brother.
I need to check on him soon.
I darted down an alleyway and drew in a deep breath. I knew where I was going to pick up this job. The same place I always went. When my father had finally stepped away from the crew, he passed it onto my brother, who was three years older than me, and not very good at standing up to our father. My brother was a pushover. As strong as he was physically, Dad had a grip on him mentally. Which dove this crew into some shady shit for a very long time. But after my brother’s accident, after having the only thing he loved ripped away from him, he finally saw the light.
Like I had years before.
That’s how the club got passed down to me. From my father, to my older brother, to me. Family lineage, just like t
radition stated. But my father didn’t like me having control of the Red Thorns. I wasn’t as much of a pushover. I always questioned him as well as his motives, something he never enjoyed about me. It had been easier to manipulate my brother than it was me. But with my brother no longer being able to ride due to his injuries, I was the only thing the crew had.
Since Dad was enjoying his wealth too much.
My lungs longed for another cigarette. I pulled over and ripped my helmet off. I always needed a cigarette before going to see my father, who doled out not only our jobs, but our paychecks. Despite not being the president any longer, he still owned us. All of us. We depended on him for jobs, getting paid, and generally keeping our noses clean with the police in the area. Which was why dealing with my father was always a delicate balance. A ballet of tension and release. Pleasure and pain. My father was the ultimate sadist, and I was a dominant in waiting. Accepting my punishment before popping up and showing my father exactly who ran this show.
I struck a match and inhaled deeply, pulling the smoke into my lungs. I felt the nicotine spread through my veins, relaxing me as I sat on the side of the road. Cars whizzed by at lightning speed. Eighty miles an hour wasn’t enough on this highway sometimes. And as my eyes looked toward the horizon, I saw it. Up on the hill. With the sun dipping below it, signaling the end of the day.
Our owner’s mansion in the middle of his estate. Stationed on a hill for all of Ann Arbor to see.
Like a beacon of darkness that taunted the world to come get him.
5
Dani
I groaned as I lay in bed. Holy mackerel, I shouldn’t have done that party. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I fell in and out of sleep. Instead of getting up and walking campus, or decorating the rest of my side of the room, or generally organizing things, I dozed. The smell of pizza and booze still hung in the air. The beating of the music still thudded in my ears. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, determined to go back to sleep. Determined to not let that morning sun wake me up since I hadn’t gone to bed until three in the morning.
“Rise and shine, beautiful. It’s past lunchtime.”
I paused. “What?”
Hannah pulled the comforter off me and the smell of coffee and hot honey perked me right up. I groaned as I sat upright in bed, twisting so my back leaned against the wall. She smiled at me as she handed me the mug of coffee. It even had my name on it.
I cleared my throat. “Cute.”
She smiled. “You think? Mom got them for me. You can write on them with markers and erase them later. I kind of wanted to draw a dick on mine.”
“Mature.”
“Hey, get that coffee in you so you’re on my level. I’m already into my third cup, and you’re right. This hot honey stuff is amazing. We’re definitely going to need more.”
