Crossing his arms against his chest, Jack leans back and fixes him with a stare. We don’t have a couple of prospects floating around. We got Leo, and the kid hasn’t done much more than rotate tires around this joint.
“You know what I’m going to ask next,” Jack says, pausing for a moment. “You putting a claim on Mac and Ryder?”
“If that’s what it takes for the club to back me,” Bas replies.
Jack laughs.
“The club is going to back you regardless, son,” Jack tells him. “It’s the rest of this world that needs to know they’re off limits, that they’re under the protection of the Satan’s Knights. You want me to put a prospect on them because you’re a pussy who's afraid of getting attached to a woman you still love and a kid you share blood with— I’ll give you the prospect but you ain’t running after a fucking cartel without your brothers behind you.”
My eyes widen and snap back to Jack.
He can’t be serious.
It’s one thing to have us watch over Mac and Ryder, it’s another to get mixed up with a fucking cartel. For fuck’s sake, it’s suicide.
“Any business of yours is business of this club,” he continues, ignoring my glare. “Now, we don’t know what we’re dealing with and, as usual, we’re riding blind. If this winds up being bigger than us and we start calling in favors, every charter is going to ask who these two belong to and you’re going to tell them, they belong to you. They are yours which makes them ours.”
“Mac and Ryder are mine,” Bas reiterates. “My property and my responsibility. That being said, I would appreciate the support of my club in keeping them mine.”
“You got it,” Jack says immediately. “Now, was that so hard?”
Normally, I would stand behind Jack. I’d agree with everything he’s saying. Bas is a brother and we take care of our own. But I got Lacey’s voice in the back of my head, reminding me his meds aren’t fucking working. On top of that, this guy hasn’t mentioned the paramedic he’s got stashed in the woods, on death row.
Still, I don’t call him out on his shit. Instead, I curl my fists and bite my tongue as Jack starts firing off orders. It isn’t long before everyone is drinking the Kool-Aid, ready to spring into action. No one questions Jack’s plan.
They don’t blink an eye at the mention of the cartel or take a minute to think this thing through logically.
They adhere to the mania in Jack’s eyes and do as they’re told.
Sweeping his gaze around the table, Jack reaches for the mallet.
“Is there anything else?”
The man is about to throw us into a war with another faceless enemy. Before things get out of control and I lose the chance, I need to ask him about his mental health. If not for the sake of the club than for Lacey.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, pinning him with a hard stare. “What happened with the doctor?”
“This ain’t the time nor the fucking place,” Jack fires back, slamming the utensil down. Releasing it, he sends my fucking mallet rolling down the middle of the table before he hastily pushes back his chair and rises to his full height.
“Church is adjourned,” he spats, glaring at me.
“Good,” I reply, pushing out of my chair. “Then you can tell us, your family, what happened with the fucking doctor.”
Getting in my face, he pokes a finger against my chest. Those dark eyes of his glare at me menacingly.
“You’re overstepping. Any other man would’ve caught a bullet by now.”
“What’s the problem, Parrish?” Pipe questions from his seat. “You never held your illness back before.”
“Lacey says the Lithium isn’t working anymore,” I say, not giving a shit that I’m spreading his business.
“It’s not,” Jack growls. “There,” he sneers. “That what you wanted to hear, Blackie?”
No, it’s not and I realize as the confession leaves his lips, it’s not for the obvious reasons. Since Lacey mentioned the meds not working, I’ve been thinking what this means for me as the vice president of this club. I didn’t stop to think what it meant being his son-in-law or what it meant for Lacey. Jack’s not just Lacey’s father, he’s her role model, the one person in this world that gives her hope. She looks at him and sees a man who fights mental illness. He’s the fucking victor, her goddamn hero. He’s everything I can never be to her and he’s losing his war. I don’t know what that means for her and worse than that, I don’t know if she one day will follow in his footsteps.
“What happens now?” Pipe interjects.
“What happens is they give me some new meds and I pray they keep me sane or it won’t be long until my battle with this disease is over and I’m locked in some padded room wearing a straightjacket.”
The room goes still as he turns his gaze back to me.
“Congratulations, you’re one step closer to sitting at the head of this table.”
There it is, the words I’ve been dreading and yet, they’re meaningless. The only thing I can think of is Lacey. I picture her in the padded room wearing a straightjacket and the vision guts me. The room clears out and the sound of my brothers revving their engines forces me to shake the grim image from my head.
“When did you find out the meds weren’t working?” Pipe questions, making me aware he didn’t leave with the rest of the club. Blowing out a ragged bread, I turn my head and meet his gaze.
“Not until after I saw you,” I tell him. “Lacey went to visit him, and he was incapacitated. Fearing he’d hurt himself, Reina called his doctor. She made a house call and wound up sedating him. Jack doesn’t know that Lacey saw him like that, but I promised her I’d confront him.”
“This ain’t good,” Pipe comments.
“No shit,” I mutter.
“He didn’t even mention the paramedic. I gotta tell you, I’m not even sure he remembers we got her stashed up there. How long are we gonna do this for?”
“Do what?”
“Pacify him, Black. We’re digging our graves, here.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m in a rough spot, Pipe. I know I have an obligation to my club but he’s Lacey’s father first and foremost. If you think it’s hard for you to watch him lose his mind, put yourself in my shoes. I gotta look at him and wonder if it’s only a matter a time before I watch my wife go through the same shit.” I pause to stare at him for a moment. “I’ve spent nearly half my life watching Jack go through the ups and downs of being bipolar and I’ve remained impassive. It didn’t matter if I was high or sober, I kept my head straight and stood beside him through the mania and the depression. I’ve watched him soar and I’ve lifted him when he fell. I don’t know if I can watch my wife do that. It’ll break me.”
“You mean you don’t know if you’ll be able to be what she needs and stay sober.”
“I mean it’ll break my fucking heart to see her lose her mind.”
“Maybe, we’re jumping the gun. Maybe, whatever medication the doctor prescribes will work better than the Lithium,” Pipe counters. “In the meantime, you gotta quit thinking Lacey and Jack are one and the same. Man, Jack waited years before he sought treatment. Lacey got help early in life. She’s got a better chance at beating her maker than her father ever did.”