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Prologue
Spring 2019
Royce
Sitting on my bike, I’m still shaken by the encounter I had at the liquor store earlier today. I could feel someone watching me, but looking around I didn’t notice anyone out of the ordinary.
At least until my eyes panned around again and I saw him—a guy sitting in a Honda, with a couple of baby seats in the back.
He was looking at me with so much rage, I actually wondered if he was going to run me down. Shrugging him off, I headed inside the store and grabbed a few bottles of tequila, more than enough for the weekend.
When I came outside, he was standing between me and my bike; hands fisted at his side. Fuck it, I thought, and continued straight to my bike, waiting in vain for him to say something.
“I know you?” I asked him, when I was within a few feet of him.
“You know my wife!” he snarled and I swear his eyes welled up with tears.
“Okay, say hello for me,” I said, flippantly, and kept on walking.
“You don’t even know who I’m talking about. You don’t give a shit about her, about me, about what you’ve done to our kids!” he bellows next as he points back to his car and this time I notice a little tow-haired kid, straining to look to see what his dad is doing.
This guy not only has my attention, but that of all the shoppers in the lot around us.
“Listen, buddy, you’re right. I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about or why you’re giving me shit, when I’m not the one who broke a vow.”
“She was out with friends. Drunk, I guess, and fucked you. Next thing, they’re all running to that clubhouse of yours every chance they get. I get home from my night shift to find my kids alone in the house, and why?” His voice is barely above a whisper, as he stands toe-to-toe with me. “Because she can’t get enough of your dick. Chrissy told me she sometimes has to wait for you to finish with other women in line before her. That she doesn’t care as long as she gets a taste.”
Chrissy? I have no fucking idea who he’s even talking about, but the next thing I know he’s holding his phone up with a picture of two little kids; including the one that has unbuckled his strap and crawled into the front seat of his dad’s car.
I tear my eyes back from that little guy, my stomach rolling in disgust.
“They keep asking me why their mother left them, Royce,” he says, tears rolling down his face. My eyes are shifting between the little kid in the Honda’s driver’s seat, and this man who has the balls to confront me. “How do I fucking tell my babies why their momma left ‘em? How do I keep my kids from being hurt anymore?”
“I didn’t know…” I start awkwardly.
“You didn’t care! You’re a selfish bastard who just fucks his way through life, aren’t you?” He’s barely able to control his voice as he continues to stare daggers at me. “Now I’ve got to pick up the pieces.”
I catch my breath and focus on the man in front of me; all I can think is that if this was any of my brothers, they’d be swinging at me already. And more than likely with a knife, gutting me.
That’s when it hits me. What Jake and Connal have with Charlie, what the others have found—this man thought he had that, and I, unknowingly, played a part in his bitch of a wife leaving him.
“Man, I am truly sorry.”
“Tell her I’m divorcing her.” His voice is barely above a whisper, nodding his head more to himself than to me, he turns and walks back to his car.
I’m left standing, watching his taillights until I hear a horn honking and spinning around on the uneven pavement, I fall forward, stretching my empty hand out to brace myself against the ground.
Shit! Fuck, my hand! Looking at it, it’s got a serious case of road rash with little pebbles imbedded in it. At least I didn’t break the bottles.
Heading straight to my bike, I stow the tequila and head a few blocks down to Connal’s garage.
“Forget something?” Charlie calls out when I pull inside.
“I need to clean my hand out,” I say, holding it up and she immediately points to the sink before walking over to the first aid kit. “It’s my left hand, I can get it.”
“Shush, it’ll make me feel good to be healing you for once,” Charlie sasses back to me and I can’t help but to grin down at her.
“Hey, I think there’s been someone partying at the clubhouse, aChrissy? Do you know who that is?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t dig for information.
