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“Shotguns are perfect,” Rumi said, grinning. “You don’t even have to aim in close quarters.”
“I’m a better shot than you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Jesus Christ, both of you shut up,” my dad muttered, sliding his pistols into the holsters at his back and ribs. “Take the shotgun in case you need it. Doubt you will. We’re doin’ this shit quick and quiet, remember? No one’s gonna be shootin’.”
“I got a rifle,” Rumi whispered as I followed my dad out of the closet. “Like a big boy.”
“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” I muttered, shoving him away from me.
Rumi may have gotten a big boy rifle, but he’d been smaller than me since I was eleven years old.
“Sticks and stones, baby brother,” he shot back, kicking at the back of my knee to make it buckle.
“Dad’s gonna kill you,” Mick announced, stepping out of the bathroom as we walked single file down my parents’ hallway. “Get your shit together.”
“Got my game face on,” Rumi replied with mock seriousness. “You got any idea where we’re goin?”
“Cabin’s about forty-five minutes south,” Mick replied as he grabbed his cut off the back of the couch and slung it on. “Should take a little over an hour since we won’t be takin’ the quickest route.” He glanced between the two of us. “You two gonna be able to make it without killin’ each other?”
“We’ll be fine,” Rumi said, dramatically wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head against my chest. “I made us a road trip playlist!”
“Get off of me,” I muttered, holding my arms out at my sides. “Why are you so fuckin’ annoyin’ all the time?”
“It’s a gift,” Rumi said, moving away as his expression changed. “You all set?”
“I’m good,” I replied.
It was the first time that I’d been really involved in club business and I wasn’t about to fuck it up. After a year as a prospect, taking the shittiest jobs at the garage and being the members’ bitch twenty-four hours a day, I’d finally gotten my patch. I was a full member of the Aces and Eights Motorcycle Club. I had the least seniority and I’d been called green more times than I could count, but my spot was secure. I had to just forget all the other shit swirling in my mind and focus on the job at hand.
“You’ll be good,” Mick said with a nod.
We took off, Mick and my dad on bikes with me and Rumi following behind in his truck. As we made our way through town, my uncle Will and cousin Brody pulled out of a parking lot behind us.
“Uncle Mack’s not comin’?” I asked Rumi, stretching my legs out in front of me. “He seemed like he was doin’ alright last night.”
“He’s sittin’ this one out,” Rum replied, glancing at me. “Went up to the hospital this mornin’.”
“Probably better that way,” I muttered with a laugh. “Give his old ass a couple of days to recover.”
“Shit, he could still outride both of us,” Rumi said, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Maybe you, notme,” I joked. Fuck, I was so jittery my hands were practically shaking. I glanced at Rumi, wondering if I should tell him but immediately decided against it.
“Yeah, right.” He snickered.
“You know it’s true.”
“What do you think the odds are of this thing goin’ off without a hitch like Dad seems to believe?”
“Fuck,” I sighed. “Fifty-fifty?”
“Yeah right.” Rumi laughed. “More like thirty-seventy. Something to remember, baby brother? Shit always goes sideways.”
After that little nugget of wisdom we lapsed into silence. Rumihadmade us a road trip playlist, the psycho, and it wasn’t half bad. I tried to stay focused as we drove, but I found my mind wandering more than once. Normally, I would’ve fallen asleep in the car—I always did—but I was too keyed up. Instead, different shit ran through my head, like the fact that I needed to replace the kitchen sink in my old farmhouse, that my boots needed to be replaced before they completely fell apart, that I’d left laundry in the washing machine again and it was going to smell like ass, that I needed a haircut soon or I was going to look like Micky’s more attractive twin. I wished I was driving, Rumi was following too closely behind the bikes, and a million other bullshit thoughts. I let them come, one after another, refusing to let my mind stray to the one thing that was making me nuts.
By the time we turned onto the old gravel road in the mountains, my knees were stiff and my heart started thumping hard. It wasn’t racing, but I was hyperaware of its presence in mychest. I reached out to turn down Rumi’s music and he glanced at me, grinning.
