by J Bree
"Just spit it out, Aves. You know you can say anything to me."
She sighs dramatically. "I think it's time. I think it's time for you to go and confront the Boar.”
I stare at her for a second as I wind the pasta onto my fork. It's not like I haven't been expecting this, it’s not like I haven’t been expecting her to call me out on my own bullshit, but I guess I've just been waiting for the shove in the back to actually go do it. I normally confront everything headfirst no matter how much pain it will cause me. But there's something about this, there's something about the idea of having a dad, that terrifies me.
My mom dying was the best and worst day of my life. Not having her poison was such a relief but it also delivered me into the hands of the Jackal, creating the mess I'm in right the fuck now.
What will my dad give me? What bullshit am I going to have to face for sharing DNA with this guy?
I shove more food into my mouth like a sullen child, chewing and swallowing it without really tasting the deliciousness anymore. “Yeah, I know. I guess I have to bite the bullet and just go fucking do it."
Avery nods and we both eat for a moment in silence as we think over what exactly this is going to entail.
"I'm going by myself. I don't want the boys starting their bullshit. Ash is likely to stick a bullet between his eyes the second he tells me he's my dad just because he doesn't trust fathers, not that we can blame him for that. Harley will want to have an argument with him over the whole fucking thing in my defense, and Blaise… Blaise will crack some joke about our relationship and I don't know what sort of father the Boar might be but I don't need that shit in my life. Fuck that.“
Avery smirks at me. "I think if he had a problem with it he would've said something by now. If it is him sending the boxes of heads, don't you think one of the boys would've shown up in there by now if he didn’t approve of your relationships?”
A full body shudder takes over me. I cannot imagine the feeling of opening one of those fucking boxes to find one of my guys in there.
Avery grimaces at the look I give her. "Sorry, I didn't even think before I spoke. Do you think it's him sending them?"
I poke at my dinner. “I guess if this is a blood thing. It just freaks me out to think how much of my life he must know about if he's the one sending them. I mean, my full name is just the tip of that fucked up iceberg.“
She nods. "To know that much about your life and to not have helped you this far is disgusting. Sending you the heads of your enemies now is too little too late. Are you going to tell him that?"
I shrugged. "I have to be careful about what I say. Clearly sending the heads of enemies means he's a little bit fucking deranged. What if I reject him and his attempts at forming a relationship and he goes psychotic on us? We already have enough of that going on with the Jackal and Senior. The boxes are inconvenient but they're not currently a danger to us. I think I'll play it by ear, see how the conversation goes, and if he wants to keep in touch in a permanent, fatherly way I guess I can pick a phone up every now and then, even if I don’t fucking want to.“
Avery hums. "Phone calls are easy. It's just if he wants to join us for family dinner, then we’ll have a problem. I don't think we can contain the guys from being absolute dickheads to him over a nice meal. What do bikers even eat?”
I laugh at the look on her face and her use of the word dickhead. It's still funny to hear the girl curse.
We fall into our usual topic of choice these days, college because fuck my life, and it’s not until we’re starting in on dessert and coffee that she brings up the other taboo topic, the one we can’t talk about around the guys.
“Explain to me the Crow’s empire,” she says, sipping at her coffee delicately but I know it’s an act. She wants to look like she’s completely in control, even as her whole world is kind of crumbling away at the thought of the guy. Ugh, I hate it.
“Like I said before, it’s all information and money. A bit of influence too. He does a lot of what you do.”
She nods and drums her fingers against the countertop. “Explain the difference between his information and Illi’s. And the Coyote, you always call the three of them.”
I hum under my breath, searching for the right way to explain something that’s now so ingrained in me that I don’t even have to think about it. “Illi is the man to go to for the word on the street. Like, stuff that isn’t written down, stuff no one is willing to pass on with their name attached to it. The Coyote is all hacking and data. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything except the numbers and the inboxes he digs into.”
I take another deep sip. “Atticus deals in the type of information that can bring down businessmen, politicians, and entire countries. The stuff that happens in soundproof conference rooms and in the back of chauffeur-driven Rolls Royces. Now we have access to all three sources there should be less gaps in our information. We won’t have the same problems we did with Atticus in the first place.”
Avery hums under her breath. “So his information is like mine. I guess I knew that, but he seems to know everything before me so I did wonder who his sources were. Do you have any names?”
I shake my head. “To be honest, before I knew who he was I stayed the fuck away from him. He’s kind of… infamous.”
Avery arches an eyebrow. “For information? Were you afraid he’d dig up your middle name?”
I groan at her, ignoring the cackle that tears out of her, except that I freaking love the sound. “No. He and the Jackal… they came in a tie. They won the same year, two members were killed in the same incident. The Jackal fucking hates that he didn’t come out on top of the Game. No one else even remembers it but I guess he’s always been deranged.”
Avery’s head tilts. “So this rivalry comes from the Jackal not wanting a joint win? Jesus H. Christ.”
I nod. “Yep. He thinks it makes a difference even though it really doesn’t. He’s been after the Crow from day one, it’s why their empires are always about the same size, if the Jackal gets bigger than the Crow he’ll be more likely to take him out.”
Avery’s fingers drum out a pattern on the countertop again, the sound soothing to her. “That’s all the more reason to take the psycho out then, isn’t it?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I step into the Boar’s clubhouse and do my best not to let the disgust show on my face. The whole place smells like cigarettes, cheap whiskey, and gun powder, with the underlying smell of sex covering every flat surface. Fucking gross.
A lot of eyes track me as I make my way up to the bar. I ignore them, totally unconcerned with their interest and secure in my status as the Wolf of Mounts Bay. They all know what I can do.
“You lost, little girl?” Someone calls out, and I slide onto one of the bar stools.
“I need to speak to the Boar,” I say to the bartender, a biker bitch with a low cut tank barely covering her chest. Fuck, I think I can see the tops of her freaking nipples which was not on my plans for tonight.
She nods at me, sliding a glass of whiskey my way and jerking her head to one of the other girls. “Just excuse the boys, your type don’t come in here much and they’re not really used to acting like gentlemen.”
My type? Fuck me, I’m wearing booty shorts and a Vanth tee not a Chanel fucking dress.
I’m saved from saying any of this by the Boar arriving, a deep frown on his face. The bartender grimaces and steps away as if being next to me is going to make her guilty of something.
“Wolf. I wasn’t expecting you.”
I shrug. “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I should pop in for a chat.”
He stares at me for a second, then gestures at me to follow him. I leave the glass of whiskey, happy to see more of this place. I like to know my way around places, just in case. If the Boar isn’t my dad, maybe someday I’ll need to get in here and take him out. Fuck, even if we are related I might slit the fucker’s throat someday.
It’s not like he’s given a shit abo
ut me so far.
He leads me to a large meeting room with a huge table and at least fifty chairs, all hand carved out of a deep rich wood. Someone around here has some serious talent. The Boar dismisses two of his bikers and shuts the door behind them until we’re alone.
“This is where we hold church; never been a woman in here for anything except cleaning. Some of the boys might take offense to that.”
I roll my eyes. “They are welcome to come and voice their concerns with me. I’m not as selective with who I kill for insulting me.”
He huffs out a laugh and takes a seat across from me, leaning back in the chair like he’s on a fucking beach somewhere and this is all so relaxing. I’m sitting like I have an iron rod rammed up my ass, I’m that freaking tense.
We stare at each other for a moment, the silence thick but not exactly uncomfortable.
There’s no point in beating around the bush, I cut straight to the point. “I want to know why you sided with the Crow.”
There’s a pause for a second while he eyes me like he’s trying to decide if I’m worthy enough for a real answer. I try not to let my irritation show.
“You’re a smart kid, what’s the going theory?” he asks and I study him to try and find some sort of tell, some resemblance I’ve missed before but there’s nothing.
I ignore his question. “Why did you say no to the Jackal?”
He grunts and scratches at his beard. “Because he’s a fuckin’ psycho. Something just not right in that kid's head.”
I nod and say, “Why did you tell him it was a blood thing?”
He grimaces and cuts me a look, finally dropping his bullshit. “I’ve heard about the Crow sniffing around my bloodlines, kid, I ain’t your daddy.”
I should feel relief but, fuck, now we have to start at square one again. “I didn’t say you were. I just don’t understand why blood comes into it and I’m kind of on a time crunch here.”
He frowns and turns in his chair, placing the bottle of beer down to focus entirely on me. “Why? Someone bothering you?”
I snort. “Uh, yeah. Lots of people are bothering me. The Jackal is only about a third of my overall problems, believe it or not.”
“And why is asking me about blood going to help you with the rest?”
Fuck, I hate the secrecy bullshit. I hate the half-truths and twisting of words. Answering questions by asking another. I should’ve asked Avery to come here and do it for me.
I pull myself into the Avery Beaumont Power Pose, hoping it’ll help me keep my damn head, and I make sure my voice is level as I reply, “Someone is killing people who have wronged me. Sending me their heads in fucking boxes. There’s only ever been one note and it mentioned blood, the same way you did.”
The Boar blinks at me.
Then he swears viciously under his breath. It’s pretty clear this motherfucker knows who it is. Maybe the trip wasn’t completely wasted after all.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I ain’t your daddy but I know who is. He’s a miserable excuse of a human and I wish to God I’d killed him when I had the chance long before you were born. He ain’t the one sending you the boxes, he doesn’t give a shit about any of the poor bastards he’s fathered, but I know who’s sending them. I’ll… stop it from happening.”
Two very important things stand out to me from his little speech; my father is definitely scum, and I have siblings. The Boar knows about my siblings.
I manage to find my voice, but it’s no longer calm and even. I rasp out, “Don’t. Just tell me who it is and give me my father’s real name. Please. I’ll call in a favor if I have to.”
He shakes his head at me and grabs the beer bottle, draining the last of the liquid in one go. “No favors, kid. Your father is my older half-brother. He’s the President of the Chaos Demons MC up in Indiana, and he’s a piece of fucking shit. Don’t go looking for him, he’ll only find a way to break you open and sell you for parts. You have two brothers in the MC and five other bastard siblings around the country because your pop doesn’t like wrapping up. He tells women a fake name so they can’t come knocking for child support. I took one look at you when you showed up at the Game as a scrawny little kid and knew you were one of his. You look just fucking like… never mind. Just don’t go looking. I’ll back you in this fight, and any others you might have because of blood.”
Seven fucking siblings?!
I need to sit down before I pass the fuck out. Wait, my ass is already planted. Sweet lord, how the fuck am I going to track them all down? Do I want to? Fuck!
The Boar gives me a wry grin. “The boys in the MC are good enough, but they’re under your pop’s thumb so don’t bother going looking for them. Three of the bastard kids are fine. Grown up with decent moms, going to college, living white collar lives.”
I clear my throat but it doesn’t help. “And the other two?”
The smirk turns into a grimace. “I watch out for them, like I do for you. I do what I can.”
I don’t see how he’s watched out for me, not really, and I scrub my face with a palm, groaning. “Why? If you hate him so much then why bother?”
The Boar leans back in his seat and glances around the room, rubbing his jaw. I study him but I still can’t find any resemblance. Fuck, he’s my uncle. Today couldn’t get any fucking weirder.
He glances back. “I went to visit your pops years ago for something. Don’t matter what it was for, but when I got there two of his biker sluts were there too, dragging kids behind them. I looked at them and… it wasn’t good kid. Bad situation. But I did nothing. Not my business, not my problem. I was a stupid fucking kid myself. Three days later one of the kids was dead, the other was… worse than dead. Your pops doesn’t give a shit, but I’m not that fucking evil. You look… just like our mom. She was a biker slut, switched up MCs when she’d pissed off enough of the brothers, but she was a good woman. I can’t look at you and not try to fucking help.”
I nod, but it’s weird to hear this sort of family history. My own mom was bad enough, but to hear that my father was worse? Jesus, could I be more cliche? The kid from the slums with a million fucking siblings. I need a drink. I need a whole fucking bottle of whiskey and maybe some tequila. Fuck it, being angry and drunk is where I need to be.
“Thank you for telling me. Once I’ve dealt with this mess I’d like to meet… some of my siblings. Whichever ones you think I should.” I say as I stand, and he nods his head while he stares at the empty bottle on the table.
“I could use your help with one of them. I think you might be able to if… yeah. I need your help too, kid.”
I nod because apparently I also would do anything for blood, imagine fucking that?!
I make it to the door before I turn back to him and say, “What’s your real name? What’s my father’s real last name?”
I can give it to Avery and she can work her magic, give me a whole fucking file on this family of mine so we will never be caught unaware again.
He scoffs at me. “Breaking all the rules tonight, little Wolf? Daniel Durack. Your pops is a Graves.”
Eclipse Starbright Graves.
Nope.
Don’t like that at all.
Is the whole fucking universe playing a joke on me? I’m sticking with Anderson, even if it is a fake name from a fucking asshole. Ugh.
I turn back to the door to walk out and find two of his biker men, brothers, whatever they call them, are standing in the hall and their eyes are on me.
Do they know about my blood?
“I need some fucking whiskey,” I croak, and the Boar lets out a wry chuckle behind me.
“That’s a blood thing too, kid. Call me if you need anything.”
Nope.
I don’t like that either. I bolt out of the door and into the cool Mounts Bay night air.
I drive the entire way back to Hannaford with a head full of clouds and air.
What the actual fuck has happened to my perfectly empty life? I mean, I’m
happy with the family I’ve made, I don’t need anymore showing up. This is bad, this is really fucking bad.
I park, make my way up the stairs and into my room only to find my bed full of Harley, Ash lounging on Avery’s bed, and Blaise sprawled out on the floor. I think about bitching them out for taking over my space but I decide to leave that for later, when I don’t feel like my whole fucking life has been a lie. Oh, there it is; the Blaise Morrison Pity Party has just taken ahold of me and I’m going to need to start drinking before I throw a freaking tantrum.
“I need whiskey. I’m freaking the fuck out and I need to drink my body weight in, like, an expensive aged whiskey that will get me wasted super fucking quick,” I say, and they all look up at me.
Avery stands from where she was sitting at the table doing homework and comes over to me, but it’s Blaise who speaks first.
“So, do we have to explain ourselves to your daddy? Tell him about our intentions?”
Sweet merciful lord.
I could fucking swoon at the thought of any of them speaking to my biker pops.
“Alcohol, Avery. Non-negotiable. 911. We have entered an emergency state.” I could go on but she grabs my wrist and looks at me, all concerned and shit, and I feel light-headed.
“You need to breathe, whatever you found out can’t be that bad. Do you want ice cream too?”
“Fuck ice cream.”
Avery’s eyes widen as she nods and she cuts Blaise a severe look. “No more jokes.”
He grumbles at her but he’s sitting up to get a better look at me and frowning. I stumble over to my bed and half collapse on it, my skin crawling with extra energy like I need to run a fucking marathon to get it out.
Harley gets up and snags some whiskey from fuck-knows-where and I crack it open to take long, deep gulps straight from the bottle.
I know I’m panicking for no real reason but I’ve been alone for so long. No family, no one who gives a shit, I’ve only had myself to deal with. Now I have my family, my real family, and it’s hard fucking work keeping us all happy and alive. To find out I have siblings is too much. A father. A fucking uncle who’s been looking out for me… though I don’t know what the hell he’s been doing for me. It’s not like he got me away from the Jackal.