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“One to a cargo plane company on the west coast.” I glance across the room at my nephew, who looks real shaken up. Everyone here would have seen the picture the sick bastard sent me by now. Poor kid’s just got a reminder of what the man who made him is capable of.
“I called them…” Maddy continues. “I convinced the person to tell me where it was going.”
“And…?” I look back at her expectantly.
“Where does every person on the FBI’s wanted list head?” She shrugs, looking sad and fuckin’ helpless.
“Mexico.” I laugh bitterly.
Chop always said it’s where he wanted to end up. He had a poster of a Mexican beach pinned to the back of his bedroom door when we shared a cabin together. His plan for our retirement, before I met Carly, was for us to be sipping back beers and watching pretty women pass our beach hut in thong bikinis.
“If he can charter a plane, we can too.” Jessie steps up, slamming his hand on the table to try and knock me outta the trance I’ve slipped into.
“It’s over, Jess,” I tell him, surprised at how relieved the words feel coming off my tongue.
“What do you mean it’s fuckin’ over? Don’t matter if he’s here or in fuckin’ Mexico, we find him and we kill him.”
“No, we won’t.” I shake my head and stare at the table. “He won.” I scrape back my chair and stand up, ready to leave, but Jessie puts himself in front of me and grabs my cut.
“Don’t let me hear that fuckin’ bullshit outta you!” he yells at me. “He ain’t fuckin’ won nothin’. We’re gonna find him and we’re gonna make him suffer.”
“I’m done, Jessie. I’m tired of it.”
“Listen to me, Skid.”
“No,youlisten tome.” I shove him away. “I’m tryin’ to move on with my life. I’m happy. Killin’ him ain’t what my future’s about no more.” I think about Addison and Charlie and how I need to be here for them now.
Chasing the demons of my past all the way to Mexico is not the way to start a relationship. Maddy places her hand on Jessie’s shoulder, encouraging him to back down and as he does, he looks real disappointed in me. I can understand why. What my brother did to his old lady really fucked her up. Chop’s had an impact on everyone’s lives in one way or another. But I’m exhausted from the hate I have for him. I leave the envelope with all Maddy’s information about his latest victim on the table, heading out the club and toward my bike.
“I’ll drive ya home.” Tommy chases after me, and figuring I’ve drank far too much, I decide I should let him.
I get in the passenger seat of the cage and sit in silence as he drives us up the track toward my cabin. I sent Addison back home earlier, she looked real shaken up from what Rogue showed her and I didn’t want her to see me getting any angrier. Tommy respects my need for silence and doesn’t speak a word until he pulls up outside my cabin.
“I think what you're doing is right if that stands for anythin’,” he tells me as I open the door to get out.
“It stands for somethin’,” I assure to him gratefully, before slamming the door and stepping onto my porch.
“Hey.” Addison springs up from the chair she’s resting on when I get inside. She’s jumpy and on edge. I guess that's what seeing a picture of an innocent, dead woman on your boyfriend's phone will do to ya.
“Where’s Charlie?” I take a look around and see he ain’t here.
“Sleepover at Dylan’s. Ella thought we might want to be alone tonight.”
“He ain’t no trouble.” I head over to the cupboard and grab a bottle of Jack from the top shelf.
“I know, but I didn’t know where your head would be at, and Charlie really wanted to go anyway.” She smiles.
I nod back at her as I unscrew the lid and knock some back, and she stares at me like she’s expecting me to say something. Since I ain’t got nothing, I hold out the bottle and offer her some.
“No, thanks.” She shakes her head in refusal.
“I’m sorry ‘bout what ya saw today,” I tell her, sitting on the couch and trying not to let the image he sent me get inside my head again. “Rogue can be real insensitive at times and—”
“I’m glad she showed me. I don’t want us to have secrets.” She comes and rests beside me, her body seeming so much tenser than usual.
“It appears Chop’s fucked off to Mexico,” I tell her, lying my head over the back of the couch and looking up at the ceiling.
“And you wanna go after him,” she guesses, and I don’t know if it’s disappointment or concern that I hear in her tone
