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“Thanks man.”
Watching Justin drive off, Pence rounded on me. “You gonna call him?”
“Don’t have a choice.” I sighed, lighting another cigarette.
Fuck, I was going to need an entire pack of cigarettes and possibly a crate of bourbon to get through this call.
This was one call I didn’t want to make.
“The fuck you don’t. You are the fucking President of the Diamondbacks. We have no affiliation with them.”
That was technically true and not.
The Diamondback M.C. had no affiliation with anyone.
I was another story.
The Diamondbacks were a lone club that minded our business. We helped when asked but stuck to ourselves.
“It’s the family number. You know I can’t ignore it.”
“Damn it, Kansas. You left all that shit behind years ago.”
That was also true, but unlike my club brothers, I would always have a connection to something bigger. There was nothing I could do about it. I was born into them. Shared blood with them. Nothing I did would ever erase that. Pence was the only one who knew my truth. Found out by accident when he heard me talking to one of them. When he questioned me, I refused to lie and came clean.
Since then, Pence has kept my secret.
“You call him. I want to be there. I ain’t letting you deal with that fucker alone.”
Agreeing wholeheartedly, I took another drag.
“Got no problem with that.”
“Best get this shit over with. Make the call in the garage office. No one will bother us there.”
Nodding, I followed Pence as we walked across the courtyard and entered the garage. The place was nothing special, just a small room no bigger than a shoebox, but it had a desk and a small window. Sitting at the desk, I pulled the office phone closer and hit the speaker button as the dial tone filled the surrounding air. Dialing the number, I knew by heart I leaned back and lit another cigarette as the phone rang.
“Kansas?” The deep, gravelly voice spoke as my heart kicked into gear. It had been almost twenty years since I heard his voice and still the motherfucker could instill fear in me and considering everything I’d been through over the years, that was saying something. There was a time I worshipped the ground he walked on. I wanted to be just like him, then I learned the truth. Saw with my own eyes who he truly was, and I wanted nothing to do with him.
By morning, I was gone and never looked back.
“Montana?”
“Need a favor.”
I smirked. Yeah, I knew what his favors meant. It meant blood and destruction were imminent. Shaking my head, I carefully worded my reply. “Not sure I can help, brother.”
And just like all the times before, the voice growled deeply, like thunder rolling across the plains, as he stated, “You don’t have a choice,brother. I’m calling in a family marker.”
I balled my fist and closed my eyes.
The one motherfucking thing I couldn’t refuse.
He knew that and so did I. The only good thing was that each family member had only one marker, and if Montana wanted to use his marker on me, there was nothing I could do to stop him. The only thing that worried me was why? What could have possibly happened that big bad Montana Stone would use the one thing that ensured compliance, and why me? What was so damn dire that big brother needed my fucking help?
“I do this, that’s it. You leave me the fuck alone?”
“Agreed.”
