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I give him a smile then lean my cheek against Hawk’s broad, strong back as I tighten my grip around his waist, turning my face toward the road ahead. The road that represents hope. The new horizon of my life where anything is possible.
I can’t wait to get started building my new life.
I can go anywhere. I can do anything. I can live my life any way I want.
I’m free.
I’m finally free.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
We rode most of the way back to Vegas before we stopped. I figure the sooner we put some real distance between us and the Howlers, the better. We pull off the road in a small town and hit a diner. After helping Molly off the back of our borrowed bike, Reaper leads us to the restaurant. She surprised me by taking my hand as we walk across the parking lot. I give her a smile and she bumps me with her hip playfully and I can tell she’s already feeling better.
Don’s Diner is the same kind of greasy spoon you see on the side of highways all across the country. There’s nothing special about it. Black and white tile, chrome, and red vinyl seats meant to conjure some sort of nostalgia. I’m pretty sure this is just how the place was when it opened a thousand years ago and they’re not actually trying for that sort of affectation. It must be a hit with the tourists.
We take a booth near the back, one that affords me a view of the front door and the diner as a whole. A moment later, a waitress approaches our table with a warm, wide smile. She sets some menus down for us. Her nametag says Dawn and she’s probably in her fifties or so, but she could probably pass for ten years younger.
“How we doin’ today, folks? Just passin’ through?” she asks.
“Yep,” Reaper replies. “On our way back to Vegas.”
She nods. “Seems to be most people who come through here are either comin’ from or goin’ to good ol’ Sin City.”
“It is a destination,” Reaper says.
“Sure is,” she replies. “Can I get you folks somethin’ to drink? Somethin’ to wash that road dust out of your mouths?”
“I’ll take an iced tea,” I say.
“Same,” Reaper adds.
I look over at Molly who seems to be having trouble deciding. It hits me then that this is her first time in a restaurant in a really long time. She’s had to survive on whatever they had in that shitty clubhouse. She looks at me and I give her a smile.
“Get whatever you want. The sky’s the limit,” I tell her.
A slow smile crawls across her face as she looks at me. “I always used to love strawberry shakes when I was a kid.”
“Strawberry shake it is then,” I say.
“Lucky for you, we got the best shakes in all the Southwest,” Dawn smiles. “I’ll get those started for you.”
She leaves the table, and an awkward tension immediately descends. Reaper and I exchange a look as Molly looks around, a smile and an expression of astonishment on her face. I swear to God, she looks like a kid at Disneyland. I guess that’s what being cooped up for however many years they had her will do to you. Hers is a sad story that makes me really feel for her. But I don’t want to make her feel awkward about any of it. I don’t want her to feel like any of this is her fault or that she has anything she should be ashamed of. I think the best thing I can do is act completely normal. Like this is just any other day.
“How’d your dad take all this?” I ask Reaper.
He grimaces. “I’ll be honest with you brother, he’s not real thrilled with this,” he says. “But that was part of the deal. I told him if he didn’t trust your judgment as VP, that meant he didn’t trust my judgment in making you VP.”
I let out a low whistle. That’s a shocker. Reaper has been acting President for a bit now, but he’s never outright contradicted his father like this. He’s never asserted the privileges that come with his new rank. The fact that he’d do that for me is… well, I’ll always be grateful.
I’ll always have a hell of a lot of respect for Old Grim. He’s been a damn good Prez for a long time. But he’s a little too attached to the old-school ways. To the old alliances that were made decades ago. And that’s just not what’s going to help this club anymore. If he’s handing over the reins, that means he needs to let Reaper—and me—do what’s best for the future of this club.
Was my saving Molly more about what I wanted than really doing what’s best for the club? Sure. Probably. But the fact remains that the Howlers were never going to work out long term. In a certain way, I killed two birds with one stone.
I nod. “Yeah, I get that. If it makes him feel any better though, tell him Hammerhead wasn’t going to work out anyway. I tried to get him to see the light. Had the come-to-Jesus meeting with him and everything,” I tell him. “And he was sayin’ all the right things and whatever, but I could tell the instant I left, he was gonna go right back to what he was doing—all the things that took me there in the first place.”
“Think so?”
I nod. “I know so. Finally got him to admit he was doin’ crank. Tried to get him into a program but he was resisting,” I say. “Really, we were going to end up cuttin’ ties with him sooner or later. At least this way, it’s done and over with.”
