“You’re awful.”
I hugged her to me. “We’ll name our first son after you. Barber Jessup sounds like a winner.”
Mom squirmed around in my arms. Unwilling to kick her boy in the babymaker, she couldn’t break free.
Irritated at her loss, she muttered, “You’ll make a terrible father.”
“That’s just your hatred of children talking,” I said, stroking her head as I kept her pinned to me. “You fear having a Devlin running around your house, wiping his sticky fingers on everything. But don’t worry your pretty little head. Monroe said she’ll never let our kids visit your cootie factory. So, your furniture is safe.”
Once I freed Mom, she fixed her tousled hair and flipped me off. “My grandkids can go wherever they want.”
“Yes, everywhere except your place.”
“Good. I don’t want them interrupting my orgies.”
“That’s what Monroe meant by cooties. Dried jizz, basically.”
Barbie Jessup undoubtedly hates Monroe, and she clearly thinks I’m a pain in the ass. Yet, she couldn’t help laughing at the thought of dried jizz all over her house. She gently patted my jaw.
“I look forward to you moving out of my place,” she said as her way of letting me know she understood that times were changing and Monroe wasn’t temporary.
“I’ll still be over for free food,” I replied as my way of saying I’ll always be there for her.
Sharing a few more moments of teasing, I felt the shift in her insults toward Monroe. Mom likes to shit on people. She does it with everyone. It’s her way of protecting her overly fragile heart. But I can tell when she truly dislikes someone or has no interest in them. Today, her Monroe insults lacked the heat they had weeks ago.
Mom’s ability to embrace change inspires me to meet Wyatt at a hot dog stand for lunch. We’ve spent our lives at odds. Our fathers were buddies, while our mothers battled constantly. Wyatt and I rarely argue, but the cold hostility between us never eases up.
“What’s this about?” he asks, sitting across from me at the small round table outside the hot dog stand.
“I’m wondering if there’s a way you can stop treating me like your loser little cousin.”
“But you are my loser little cousin.”
“Yeah, but I’m also the guy Bronco and the club founders tapped as the future president. That means you either treat me with respect, or you’re a liability.”
“Fuck off,” he spits out and takes a bite of his hot dog.
“This is me offering you a chance to get in line before the time comes when I show you the door.”
“You can’t do shit.”
“You aren’t stupid, Wyatt,” I lie as my voice remains chilly. “You know Bronco will never hand over control of the club to you. You also know you can’t beat him in a fight. He’s made his choice. The founders agree. In the future, I’ll have to decide whether family matters more than the club. We both know how that’ll work out for you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“If I strip you of your patch, then you’re not in the Executioners. If you aren’t one of us, you can’t live in the community.”
“You’re blowing smoke out your ass.”
Wyatt loves to wear people down with his circular insult-bullshit game. I refuse to play with him.
“Fatherhood might mature you. I’d prefer if you could play an important role in the club,” I explain, despite not believing Wyatt’s capable of more than low-level muscle work. “Until then, I’ll stick you in the back unless I need someone willing to catch a bullet with his face.”
Leveling his pretty blue eyes at me, Wyatt growls, “You can’t make me leave the Woodlands.”
“The Executioners can, and I’ll be running the club. Your mama can bitch all she wants, but my mama will bitch right back at her. Rooster will never go against the club. You know that.”
Wyatt sneers at me, falling back into his hotheaded asshole comfort zone. Yet, his overly expressive eyes give away the truth. He’s aware of how the Executioners are held above everyone else in his father’s mind. For Rooster, his wife and kids aren’t the reason he lives a good life. The club offered him a chance to provide a good life for his wife and kids. To do right by the club, Rooster will quickly burn his son.
Wyatt shifts from denial to negotiation. “If you’ll be president, I ought to be VP.”
“You’re too big of an asshole to handle the shit Lowell handles.”
“You’re the biggest asshole, motherfucker.”
Ignoring his raging face, I reply calmly, “Wyatt, no one will follow a man like you.”
“Fucker.”
“You can’t see outside yourself. If you want something, you figure everyone should give it to you. But you never stopped to notice the men you were demanding the presidency from. Someone like Rooster needs to be dealt with in a certain way, but you’re too stupid to learn how.”
“You think you’re so fucking great,” he hisses, unable to deal with even the smallest amount of criticism.
“There’ll be time to get your shit in order. Bronco isn’t handing me power right away. Before he does, you can prove your worth to me. If not, I’ll cut you loose, and the club won’t stop me.”
“I will never be pushed aside.”
“Right now, you’re only in the club because of Rooster and Bronco. They wanted to believe the best in you,” I explain before hardening my voice. “As your loser little cousin, I know you’re an irredeemable shithead. Times are changing, Wyatt. Either change too or find a new line of work.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “We’ll see about this.”
“Whatever, ass—”
On the road in front of me, a black SUV rolls past. Nothing interesting about that. People in Elko love their black SUVs. Then, the back passenger window shatters, causing the vehicle to swerve. Standing up, I watch the SUV make a sharp turn off the main road. That’s when I notice the North Dakota plates.
I don’t have to answer my ringing phone to know what’s happening.
“They’re taking Monroe,” I tell Wyatt as I rush past him to my motorcycle.
After I mass-text the SUV’s location to the club, Wyatt and I zigzag through traffic to get across the street. Monroe’s captors are headed in the direction of the Village, probably hoping to use the side roads to reach the next highway entrance.
Rather than speeding to catch up, I have to hit my brakes when I spot the SUV pulled over. Swerving the Harley, I quickly park across from the vehicle and use my bike as cover. Wyatt follows my lead while texting our people with an update. I study the large man struggling with someone at the open back door. I assume Monroe’s giving him shit.
“There are only two of them!” Monroe screams from the SUV.
I glance at Wyatt, who already has his gun out. We move fast, giving the enemy little time to adjust to our arrival. The guy battling Monroe can’t pull his weapon before I shove him against the SUV. The second asshole is outside and hiding now.
“Come out before we kill your friend!” I yell while glancing into the SUV to find Monroe and Needy grinning back at me.