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I loved that he’d grown up to be such a strong, independent, charismatic young man.
A son I was proud of and loved more than anything else on this earth and that included my Harley and my club. Just a few more months and he would graduate.
What the fuck was I gonna do if he decided to move out?
I wasn’t ready for that shit.
“Papa.”
I blinked, staring across the table in the chapel of the Crossroads as Grim gave me one of his knowing smirks. “Yeah?”
I’d been caught reliving my past again.
Memories popped up at the worst times and I didn’t always have the will to block them, especially if they were about Colter before the accident.
“Need your input.”
Nodding, I swept the past into the back of my mind and focused on the present.
“I’m listening.”
“The Denali Brothers are expanding business ventures and wanted us to know their various interests. Guess our last conversation helped convince them we meant business.”
“That’s because Rael drilled a hole in Vince’s cheek. Antonio nearly pissed himself when Rael threatened to come after him next.”
Grim let out a dark chuckle. “Served those fuckers right. They should have come clean when the Scorpions were messing with our shipments and deliveries.”
“I don’t think it’s a lesson they’re forgetting anytime soon.”
Grim shrugged. “Not my concern. If they forget their place again the Crossroads has an excellent motivational training program in the basement. Better than prison.”
Fuck. That was no lie. “With Warden Rael. Crazy fucker.”
We both had a good laugh at that.
“So what gives? Vince and Antonio thinking of taking on more business? We don’t need those trucks compromised with the cargo we’re pushin’.”
“No, I agree.” Grim scrubbed his hand over his face. “Private investigators for one. That shit could be useful to the club. There are a few things I want to bring to table. Church is tomorrow and I want you there.”
“Done.”
“I also need to know what you think about switching our business ventures into other less illegal franchises.”
“You want to cut ties with Guerrero Cartel? Salazar is one mean motherfucker. He’s not gonna like that,” I warned.
“No, not completely but I’d like to scale down a little. To be honest, I need to fuckin’ think about the future of this club. I’ve got a kid on the way, brother. Bodie and Sasha have a new baby. Brothers have ol’ ladies to protect and families. Shit with the Scorpions and the Black Market Railroad is bad enough. Pushin’ drugs to NOLA is just another risk I don’t want to continue long term.”
“I hear you. I do, Grim. Just need to know what direction you’re thinking.”
“Bonds, debts, repo, more legal than drugs and stolen goods. Guns are mostly the past for us now. Took a long fuckin’ time to get here. I don’t want to raise my son to grow up and deal with the same shit as his old man. You feel me?”
“Yeah, I got you, pres.”
“Which brings me to the other idea.”
Ah, here it comes. “Hope’s Refuge.”
Most of the members knew I was involved with the Ghost program. A few had been interested but nobody formally asked to become involved before today. It wasn’t my call though.
