Shaking my head, I tell myself this dope sees pussy all day. He probably can’t even catch a hard-on anymore. Whatever, it works for me. I even shake his hand and all that. Granted, I probably put a little more force in it than I should, but ask me if I give a fuck. He’s about to go into my territory and all I can do is sit here, shake his hand and watch him.
I should have been a gynecologist and not a fucking a criminal.
Maybe in my next life.
“So, judging by the sonogram you had done in the hospital and your last menstrual cycle we’re putting you at five weeks and three days, give or take the days, is that right?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Okay, so let’s take a look and see how everything is progressing,” Dr. Pussy says, as he puts on a pair of latex gloves. He grabs the wand looking thing connected to the sonogram machine and rolls a condom on it.
Crazy fucking shit.
“Refresh my memory. This is your second pregnancy, right?”
“Yes,” Celeste answers, as she props her feet into the stirrups and eases down on the table. “Everything was perfect the first time. There were no hiccups, the baby progressed right on time and I delivered naturally.”
“Excellent. Girl or boy?”
“Girl,” she beams.
He turns to me and grins.
“So we’re rooting for a boy this time around, Dad?”
Truthfully, I didn’t give much thought to it. I always thought a person was bullshitting when they said they didn’t care what they were having just as long as it’s healthy. In my head, the man wanted a boy, and the woman of course was pushing for a girl. Now thinking about it, I truly don’t care. If we had another little girl, I’d be just as thrilled as I’d be if I had a son.
Little girls are scary.
The thought of her growing into a teenager makes me want to shoot something.
But the love a little girl has for her daddy is nothing to joke about. Skylar took to me immediately. I don’t think she understood at first, but her heart knew from the start I was hers and she was mine.
That right there is the good stuff.
The great stuff.
Give me ten girls.
Make them all as sweet and pure as her.
I’ll die a happy man.
I must’ve said that out loud. Celeste is crying as she smiles at me and the doctor is busy laughing at me.
Another smile.
This one might be my favorite of all time so I count it as two. Somewhere along the way I gave up on that piece of paper. Filling it was easier than I thought it would be. Now I need a fucking notebook to keep track of all the smiles.
Then it happens.
A loud swooshing noise fills the room and my heart begins to pound uncontrollably as I force my eyes to the monitor and I see my child for the first time.
The doctor speaks but I don’t hear a word he says.
All I hear is the sound of her heartbeat.
Loud.
Strong.
Perfect.
The good stuff.
The beautiful we take for granted.
-Thirty-six-
Cobra
I should have known the call would come as soon as I put a smile on my face or showed the world I was happy. Jack called the minute we stepped outside the hospital, putting our plans to tell Sal and Nancy about the baby on hold. Instead, I dropped her off at their house and told her I’d catch her after church.
On my way to Pipe’s garage, I called Rick and told him Deuce was back and we were all meeting to discuss his findings. Like us, he dropped everything he was doing and headed straight to the garage. This was just as much a big deal for him as it was for me and my club. He’s invested years of his life trying to catch Yankovich and bring justice to all the girls he kidnapped.
Pulling into the lot, I spot Rocco’s flashy car parked amongst the sea of chrome. By the looks of it, and the two guys dressed in suits standing like soldiers in front of the garage, I’d say Spinelli beefed up his security. Looks like the mobster is getting wise, preparing for war and all.
Dropping down my kickstand, I kill the engine and throw my leg over my bike. I hear Rick’s mustang before he enters the parking lot and when I turn around, he finally pulls in. Parking in the only available space, he jumps out of the car and starts for me.
“You hear anything?” he asks, a little breathless.
“No, I waited for you before going in,” I say, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. “Quit it, will you? You can’t even fucking breathe.”
“I breathe just fine,” he argues, snatching the Cuban from my hand. “Now lead the way, jackass.”
Stubborn.
Shaking my head, I shove my hands into my pockets and draw in a deep breath before stepping inside the garage. My eyes immediately dart around the faces in search of Deuce. I find him sitting on an oil drum in one piece.
Unscarred.
Thank fuck for small favors.
“He’s here,” Spinelli says jutting his chin toward me. “Can we get on with it now?”
Rick and I pull two crates toward the table and take a seat as Jack leans against his chair and stares down the table at Rocco.
“Your uncle was a patient man, how he ever chose you to run his shit I’ll never know,” Jack comments.
“Yeah, well when you know the answer be sure to clue me in too,” Rocco grunts, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “But until then maybe you can slam your little meat cleaver on the table and get this show on the road?”
“Mallet, it’s a meat mallet,” Deuce corrects with a sneer.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jack growls, slamming the mallet against the wood. “All right, before these two bitches claw each other’s eyes out over my fucking gavel, let’s get down to business.”
“That is not a gavel,” Rocco points out.
“He will shoot you, man, and there’s a whole lot more leather than there is silk sitting around this table,” Blackie warns.
“Look, we don’t have time to sit here and argue over shit. Call it what you want, it’s fucking ridiculous. Period. The fucking end. Now do you fucks want to listen to me? We need to get our asses moving,” Rocco grunts.
“Go on, boy,” Wolf urges. “What’d you find out?”
“First off, that motherfucker Rush is as crazy as the day is long,” he offers, pointing his thumb toward Jack. “No offense, Prez, but this guy runs circles around you. Even on your worst trip to crazyville you couldn’t be more fucked than he is,” he says, pushing his fingers through his hair.
“Rush is digging a hole for that chapter. It won’t be long before the Satan’s Knights of Albany is buried. The only reason they’re hanging on is because of the vice president. He’s a cautious guy and you can tell he’s trying to salvage the mess Rush is making. However, I’m not too sure he knows how deeply fucked they all are. He’s the only one who was skeptical of my intentions. Felt his eyes on me the whole fucking time I was there.”
“What’s his name?” Riggs asks as he types some shit into his phone.
“Bas,” Deuce informs.
“Great, now send him a Christmas card and get on with the story,” Rocco orders.
“I’m going to lay this motherfucker out,” Deuce sneers, turning to Jack. “With or without your fucking permission.”
“After we’re done with him, you can hang him from the flagpole out front for all I care, but right now I need you to continue.”
Sighing heavily, he shoots a glare at Rocco before continuing.
“Anyway, there were a couple of times I walked in on Rush talking in hushed tones, but it wasn’t to Bas or the treasury. Any conversation I caught him having was with his prospects or the fucking girl he’s obsessed with.”
This sparks Riggs’ interest. He lifts his head from the screen he’s staring at and turns to Deuce.
“Rush has an old lady,” Riggs points out.
“Sorry, buddy, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’ve been to a lot of chapters and
they don’t all operate like Brooklyn. I’ve never had to work for pussy as hard as I do here. They keep that shit flowing in other joints. Albany has plenty to go around.”
“I take it you sampled some of that,” Wolf taunts.
“Damn straight I did,” Deuce grins. “Perks of the job, man.”
“You know when I picked up Stryker, he told me about Albany when I asked him about why he went nomad. He had some issues with his old man, but he couldn’t stand being around Rush anymore. Hated what he was doing to one of the girls there. I bet you it’s the same chick,” Wolf says.
“Maybe. Did he describe her to you?”
“Not that I recall,” Wolf says.
“Or that you’d remember,” I point out.
“I don’t know what the deal is with the girl, but if this mission winds up putting us at war with Albany, she’s your golden ticket. Aside from drugs, she’s Rush’s weakness. The problem with that is she’s fucked too, thinks that guy is a god or some shit, probably because he feeds her habit.”
Deuce is right, there isn’t a shortage of whores floating around in the clubhouses and as nomads we’ve all sampled them. Mostly they’re just lonely women looking for someone to claim them. They hang around the clubhouses hoping someone will give them their colors but it never happens. You don’t buy the cow when you get the milk for free. Look around this table, no man with an old lady here settled down with a club bitch. It just doesn’t work like that.
“The shipment,” Rocco interrupts. “Did you get any intel on the shipment?”
“Or Yankovich,” Rick adds.
“I’m getting there,” Deuce grinds out.
“Well get there quicker,” Rocco orders.
“Come on, Deuce,” I urge, forcing him to turn his gaze back to me before he jumps over the table and beats the fuck out of Spinelli.
“There were a bunch of parties going on. One night Bas and the treasury went on a run and while everyone else was snorting shit and fucking their brains out, I snuck into Rush’s office. I found a bunch of documents in a lock box under his desk. The lease with Triton was one of them. Like Captain Guinea over here said, Yankovich has a boat leaving the harbor tomorrow. There are three contacts listed on that lease, Boris Majestki, Dmitri Puttinksi, and Issak Bgvort.”
He pauses and points to Rocco.
“There were three of them, weren’t there? Those are your guys,” he tells him.
“Are we sure?” Blackie asks.
“The lease says they’re transporting household goods. I don’t know about you but I don’t think these motherfuckers are looking to move toasters through the Hudson,” Deuce says, tearing his gaze from Blackie to Rick. “You said he’s going to lead us to the men who raped Gina. Wouldn’t this fit that?”
I turn to Rick, watching as he rubs a hand over the side of his face.
“If we’re going by past experience, it only works if there is another shipment scheduled. Like I said before, he wants us to do his dirty work. He made it easy for Rocco to find out the intel on the shipment going down tomorrow. He wants us there, and he wants us to take down those three names, but there has to be something we’re missing.”
“There is another shipment scheduled, but it isn’t the same day. There was another lease in the lock box. He’s got a container leaving in six days from Red Hook.”
“Rick?” I question, knowing he was assuming the shipments would coincide. For years he’s always sent us in one direction, while he disappeared in another.
“Look, maybe the way we can’t be in two places at once, neither can he,” Deuce suggests.
“I don’t know, man,” he says after a long pause. “I don’t know anything anymore. Every time I think I’ve got this motherfucker figured out he switches the game.”
“Look, none of Rush’s guys seem to know about the transfer you were talking about. If he’s taking their money they don’t know yet. Nor do they know about the shipment going down tomorrow which leads me to believe they don’t know jack shit about Yankovich or his men. He’s using Rush for the leasing agreement. Yankovich knows Rocco was looking to intercept the shipment, they had no idea I was there. Now those three guys are the men who played Stryker’s girl dirty. I’d bet my fucking life on it.”
Rocco slams the heel of his hand against the table and leans forward.
“Enough,” he shouts. “I don’t give a fuck about where Vlad is or what the fuck he is planning on transporting. If he’s giving me the guys that attacked my sister, which according to this guy…” he points to Rick, “…he is, then that’s enough for me right now. Now time’s running out. If you assholes want to sit here and play Sherlock by all means go the fuck ahead. But me and my men are hitting that dock tomorrow with or without the Satan’s Knights.”
Straightening his tie, he stares down the table at Jack.
“Now what’s it going to be Jack? I have no problem finishing these filthy cocksuckers off myself, but it seems like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“Watch yourself, Spinelli,” Jack hisses. “I’m not stuck anywhere. I gave my word to my brother, promised I’d deliver the men who harmed his girl, and that’s what I’ll do.”
He gave me his word too.
He promised me he’d help take care of Yankovich.
Almost as if he reads my mind, he turns his dark eyes to me.
“Gas up, boys, we’re going to Albany. We’re going to get Stryker and do what our club does best. Then we’ll come back to this table and decide where we go from here. We got a week until his next shipment, seven days to find out if this fuck is playing us. Are you with me?” he asks everyone while he keeps his eyes firmly glued to mine.
I steal a glance at Rick who looks just as fucking conflicted as I feel. Assuming there’d be two shipments at the same time made sense to us. There is something we’re missing, and not knowing what that is makes it real hard to move forward on anything, but Stryker is relying on us to deliver his retribution.
He needs to deliver justice the only way he knows, and that’s something I understand all too well. Knowing time isn’t on our side and we must prioritize, I ignore my gut and nod my head.
“I’m with you,” I tell Jack.
The rest of the club follows by agreeing as well and Jack adjourns our meeting. Rocco shakes Jack’s hand and tells him he’ll be waiting for him. Rick also informs us while we’re away he’s going to keep digging to discover the details of next week’s shipment.
With my thoughts all over the place, I go home and pretend like tomorrow is just a normal day. We eat dinner like we’re a normal family, play with our girl and then when it’s time for bed, I lay there with my arms wrapped around Celeste. She drifts off to sleep and I stay awake thinking about everything I have and how desperate I am to keep them safe. I force my mind to shut down, convince myself tomorrow will be just like any other day. I’ll wake up, make Skylar breakfast and kiss my girls goodbye.
Tomorrow comes.
I kiss my girls goodbye like I said I would, strap my holster on when they walk out the door and load my guns. Strapped, locked and loaded I slip my leather vest on and meet my brothers at the garage. We drive for hours until we arrive at Stryker’s old stomping ground.
He kisses Gina goodbye, leaves her in his mother’s capable hands and we take off, back to our turf, to the harbor we call our own. It’s unlike any other ride. It’s different from the final ride when we rode to Boston to reclaim our club.
This is Stryker’s ride.
This is Gina’s ride.
And we’re all just there to make sure no one interferes with that.
We arrive at the shipping yard and head to the dock where the three men who attacked Gina are about to meet the devil. Jack hands Stryker a rusted pipe and a dirty knife, signaling it’s time for our brother to get to work.
As promised Rocco is already there. He opens the door to the container and lifts his cold eyes to us. The mobster who prides himself on designer clothes and
appearances is a mess. He’s shed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and painted himself in the blood of the three men who violated his sister.
“They’re all yours,” he sneers as he steps to the side and allows us room to enter the container.
Staring at the three men who lay chained on top of one another with nothing but their cocks between them, I realize there is nothing normal about today. Buck naked, bloodied and beaten the three Russian cocksuckers cry out. Stryker walks over to them and everything goes silent.
Revenge.
For some it’s everything.
For others it’s justice.
Stryker raises the rusted pipe over his head.
“You asked for this,” he sneers. “The way you were dressed, you asked for this,” he rasps, before slamming the pipe violently inside one man’s ass.
Justice is served.
-Thirty-seven-
Cobra
By the time the holes were filled, and the dirt was turned, it was nearly four in the morning. We drove back to Albany and had breakfast with Stryker’s mother. It was like a scene out of Goodfellas, only instead of three mobsters, Claire Kincaid fed seven bikers. She didn’t feed us spaghetti she gave us pancakes. Thank fuck she didn’t pull out a painting she was working on or I would’ve expected Joe Pesci to come flying through the door. Instead, she pulled out a book she’d published—a romance novel.
After breakfast we straddled our bikes and bid Claire farewell. Wolf got her number and told her anytime she wanted inspiration for her next novel he’d be happy to oblige. Of course he would. Man’s dying to put a ring on someone’s finger. I’m just glad he’s moved on from Celeste.
Now back in Brooklyn, Deuce grabs the keys to one of the trucks parked at Pipe’s garage and drives me to the hospital. Missing my little girl, I decide I’m going to pull her from day care early and take her to the park across from the hospital.
“You should invest in a sidecar,” Deuce suggests as he pulls out of the lot.
“I think Celeste might have a problem with Skylar riding a motorcycle just yet,” I reply with a laugh.
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