Wanderer (The Nomad Series Book 2)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Standing still, his eyes are blank as they stare at me. There is no rebuttal, no emotion. Just the cold stare of a man that agrees with the ugly truth he’s been handed.

  “The truth is she may have missed having a father, but she was better off,” I hiss angrily. I know he’s hurting and I should stop, but I can’t. I need to usher the blame onto someone. I need someone else to shoulder the grief and mourn my mistakes.

  “Say what you want, but don’t you dare talk like she ain’t coming back,” he seethes. Signs of life spark as his jaw clenches and he rolls his neck from side to side. “You’re entitled to feel every damn thing you’re feeling. Give it to me, Cel. If it makes you feel better, give it all to me. I can take it. What I can’t take…what I won’t take is you talking about her like she’s not alive and well as you wait for her failure of a father to bring her back to you.”

  “I didn’t,” I argue.

  “Didn’t you just say she was better off? Maybe she is better off without me, but at least I’m not giving up on her,” he sneers.

  I lose it.

  I fucking lose it.

  Lunging for him, I beat my fists against his chest as a scream vibrates from my throat.

  “I hate you,” I shout. “I’m not giving up on her. I’m giving up on you!”

  “Big mistake, baby,” he mutters. “Don’t count me out until my final breath is drawn.”

  “Right, and they have to catch you to kill you,” I retort, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Let’s just pray to God they don’t catch Skylar instead.”

  Tragedy changes people and each tragedy changes you more and more. The first time tragedy and I became one, I pushed forward. I made every day count so that I lived for the memory of my friend. This time I’m too beaten down to push forward. I’m too broken to get back on the horse and believe in something as simple as hope. This time, tragedy has left me hollow.

  Except that’s not true.

  There’s life inside of me.

  Another innocent child I’m responsible for.

  Another innocent child that will be born into a world of sin.

  Tragedy changes people.

  It turns lovers against one another.

  It makes everything you thought was beautiful, ugly.

  “Please leave,” I sob. “And please don’t come back unless you have my baby.”

  In another life, Cobra would have reached for me. He would have ignored the malicious words I spat at him, knowing every word I uttered was out of angst. He would have whispered all the reassuring things I needed to hear. In another life, I’d believe them too.

  I’d believe in him.

  In this life, he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks away without a word.

  In this life, we’re strangers pushed aside by the cold, cold world.

  Everything she said is true.

  I failed her.

  I failed Skylar.

  Bracing my hands on the counter I lift my head and stare through the dirt and grime covering the mirror, at my face…at the eyes I inherited from my old man.

  I remember looking into his eyes when I was a boy and thought he was a warrior. He was a true superhero. He was my dad, the man who showed me how to throw a football. My dad, the guy who taught me how to sprint down the field. My dad, the man I hoped to be when it was my turn to be a husband and a father.

  That was before Alexandria.

  After the tragedy I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but misery. He wasn’t my dad. He was a man trying to be a hero. A man who suffered failure after failure. He was desperate.

  Desperation never wears well on a man.

  It doesn’t wear well on me.

  Sound rattles from the other side of the bathroom door and jolts me back to the moment. I push off the small sink and open the door to step into Pipe’s garage. Spotting Jack and Blackie in the corner, I head straight for them.

  “Oh good, you’re here—”

  I cut him off, pull my gun from my shoulder holster and watch as their eyes drift toward my piece. Blackie reaches for his but Jack holds out his arm.

  “What’s going on, Cobra?” he asks, treading cautiously. Almost like I’m the crazy motherfucker and not him.

  “This is your fault,” I sneer, piercing my desperate eyes on him. “It’s just like Pipe said. You don’t give a fuck about any of us; all you care about is yours. I bet if it was your daughter or your newborn boy you’d be pulling out all the fucking stops. Your kid would already be returned safely to your wife’s arms.”

  “Just like Pipe said,” Jack repeats as he narrows his eyes. “What else did Pipe tell you about me?”

  “Stop avoiding the issue.”

  “You’re bouncing all over the place, boy. You want to remind me of the issue and why you got a gun pointed at me?” Jack sneers.

  “I thought I could trust you guys. I gave you my nomad patch and my word I’d do my share to pull this club out of the shit it was resting in when I parked my bike at your turf. You’re supposed to have my back. You’re supposed to have my daughter’s back. You were so hell bent on delivering your word to Stryker you forgot about me. For all I know you’re just as greedy as fucking Rush. None of you can be trusted.”

  “You’re making some pretty bold accusations, Cobra. You need to step the fuck back or this will get ugly.”

  “It already is!” My hand shakes as I aim the gun between the both of them. “Rick warned you he would trick us. He told you there would be two shipments. We know when and where those shipments will go down and you’re standing here like two fucking assholes instead of making a plan of attack.”

  “We’re working on it,” Blackie argues. “None of us want anything to happen to your daughter. We want to be sure.”

  “Fuck that, you want to intercept his shipment so the club can profit. You think it’ll get you out of the red, hoping there’s enough to cover the construction on the clubhouse and Linc’s medical bills.”

  “Dude, he’s snapped,” Riggs says from behind me.

  Keeping my gun aimed high, I spin around to lash into Riggs when Blackie grabs me from behind and puts me in a headlock. Jack strips me of my gun, throws on the safety and hands it to Riggs.

  “I’ve had about enough crazy to last me a fucking lifetime,” he shouts as I struggle to break out of Blackie’s grip. “Now shut the fuck up and listen to me. I think Rick is right. I think one shipment is a farce, something to distract us from what he’s really planning. However, Yankovich didn’t plan on your kid being a part of this mix. I don’t think he’s willing to fuck up whatever he’s moving through the harbor. We’re going to go with our gut and we’re going to intercept the road shipment.”

  “We’ll make the motherfucker think we’re taking the docks by wiring them with explosives. Riggs is already working on it,” Blackie says from behind me, tightening his grip.

  “That’s right, bro, I’m going to light that dock up like the fourth of fucking July.”

  “You’re wrong,” I hiss. “If he’s looking to get rid of Skylar like you said before then he’s going to bring her back to where it’s easier to drop her. He’s going to bring her closer to home which is the docks.”

  “No,” Jack insists. “That means Rush would be making his way to Brooklyn. We’d be able to tap him on our grid. Bas and Needles are working on a lead to where he might be. We need to be prepared because if we’re a minute late Yankovich is dragging your girl over the border and then there ain’t shit we can do once she’s in another fucking country.”

  Feeling Blackie’s grip loosen, I kick back and elbow him straight in the gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

  “I don’t trust your fucking gut, I trust mine,” I sneer. Pushing Jack out of my way, I stride out of the garage and head for my bike.

  My father’s advice sounds loudly as I rev my engine and peel away from my club and the men I once thought of as brothers.

  Intuition knows the game and has your best interest at heart.<
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  Chapter Forty-two

  Clutching the bottle of lithium in my hand, I stare up at the three story house I’m parked in front of and spot a black crow perched high on the gutters. His eyes burn into mine and I wonder if he sees my sins and if he can read my soul.

  Years ago a bird similar to the one I’m staring at now spoke to me. I had been young, real fucking young. My body didn’t feel as tired as it does now but my mind wasn’t right. It never truly was, but back then I didn’t have the lithium to help stabilize me. I didn’t have a means to silence my maker.

  I was sitting outside, pretending I wasn’t crazy, when I saw the black bird. He whispered in my ear, enticing me to fly with him. He promised a safe haven where I could be myself. He promised me freedom and told me I’d one day sit at the throne of a different kind of darkness. All I had to do was watch him spread his wings and follow him.

  I followed that bird through the streets of Brooklyn, to a broken down warehouse downtown that sat in a lot owned by the Satan’s Knights MC. In the shadows stood the emperor of darkness himself, a man that went by the name of Cain. That man saved me from the depths of insanity that day. He took me into his clubhouse and gave me religion in the form of a brotherhood.

  He later became the man that saved me from taking my own life after my son was killed.

  The crow spreads his wings and takes off, flying high above the clouds, to a place I’m so tempted to follow him to.

  “Everything okay?” Blackie questions beside me. His eyes dip down to the bottle in my hand before rising to find mine. “Keep her silent,” he orders.

  He’s referring to my mind—to the maker who controls me.

  Twisting off the top of the orange prescription bottle, I tip my head back and shake the pills into my mouth, down my throat.

  Shut up, cunt. No one’s got time for you.

  “Let’s go,” I grunt as I shake off the bitterness the pills leave in my mouth. We climb the steps of the house and ring the bell. I glance down at the street below and the dozen or so bikes sitting idly by the curb, straddled by the men I call my family, ready to ride at my command.

  We have a long road ahead of us and a battle waiting for us at the end of it. But after I got a call from Bas, I spotted the black bird perched outside the garage. Like all those years ago, he called to me. Only this time he didn’t make me promises. This time when his amber eyes burned through me he reminded me of what I’d lost. He cried to me and begged me to follow him one more time.

  And so here I am, climbing the steps to an apartment leased by a woman I barely know. Well, that’s not true. I probably know her better than she knows herself right now.

  Ignoring the two cops stationed in front of her door, Blackie knocks firmly. The girl with the green eyes opens the door. Another tortured soul, another beauty disguising anguish. To her I am not the devil, I am the man that delivered the devil to the man she loves. I am the man that gave her the peace she so badly needed to continue her journey, and I am the man that will deliver peace to the other broken soul living within these walls.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  “Oh God,” I hear Celeste shriek. Turning to her, I watch her knees tremble as she grabs onto the back of the couch and stares back at me in fear. “What’s the matter? Did you find her? Oh God.”

  “No bad news to report, sweetheart. I just want a minute of your time before we hit the road,” I tell her. A man, who I assume is her father, steps next to her and eyes me suspiciously. I know my reputation, I don’t pretend I’m something I’m not, but before everything, before the leather, I am a father and I understand his worry. I respect it.

  “Jack Parrish.” I introduce myself as I offer him my hand. He grips my hand firmly and gives it a good shake.

  “Salvatore Spinelli,” he rasps, releasing my hand to press a kiss to his daughter’s head.

  I respect that too.

  Tucking her hair behind her ears, she ushers me into the kitchen and tells me to sit down.

  “If you’re here about Cobra, I don’t know where he is,” she whispers as she looks up at the ceiling and wills the tears not to come. “I said some awful things to him and he left.”

  “I’m not here for Cobra,” I tell her, reaching across to lay my hand over hers. “I’m here for you.”

  Her gaze drops to me and her features soften. She’s pretty, very pretty. Blonde like my, Reina. She’s Cobra’s sunshine.

  “Me?”

  “I know you don’t know me very well or that you have any reason to believe me when I tell you I will bring your daughter back to you. I thought maybe if you understood a little bit about who I am and not who society wants you to think I am…well, I thought it would help you to trust my word.”

  She stares back at me silently looking very confused. I take that as my cue to continue.

  “Before I became the president of the club I was a soldier just like Cobra. I was a little wild, a whole lot reckless, but I was also mentally ill.” I pause as her eyes widen then give her my smile. “I am mentally ill, sweetheart,” I amend, reaching into my pocket to show her my prescription. “This here is my salvation. However, I didn’t always have it. I was too blind, too stubborn to believe I was sick and when everyone pleaded for me to get help, I ignored them.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  Sweet girl.

  Makes me real happy I followed that birdie.

  Will make me even happier to deliver her little girl to her.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. I made my own bed and I sleep in it every night. Every night I lay my head down and I think of my son,” I tell her, smiling at the mention of the angel Heaven gained the day I lost my mind. “He was two years old and his mama left him in my care. She didn’t know I was having a nervous breakdown, she couldn’t have. I had been doing such a damn good job at pretending. No one knew when I was sane or when I was the Bulldog. Anyway, I wasn’t paying attention when he ran out of the house. My daughter was just a kid at the time but she tried to warn me. She begged me to listen, but I wasn’t myself and by the time I realized anything was wrong, it was already too late.”

  Her gasp comes as a whisper and I reach into my pocket for a handkerchief to dry her tears.

  “I didn’t come here to make you cry any more than you already have. I came here today to tell you I know how you’re feeling. I know what Cobra is feeling and I also know you’re ahead of the game. You got me in your corner, girl, and if there is any way I can keep another parent in this world from knowing my loss, I will move Heaven and Hell to do that. I’ll lay down and die for my club, but I’ll lay in a pit of flames for an innocent child too. I promise you, I swear to you on my son, may he rest in peace, I will bring your girl home and she will be breathing. She’ll be safe. Now dry your eyes and fix your face or else you’ll scare her when she comes running to you.”

  I am not a good man.

  I am a criminal.

  A man who prides himself on being an outlaw.

  I’ve shot, maimed, and torched my enemies and I’m sure there is a special place in Hell reserved just for me.

  But I believe in the innocence of children.

  I believe in putting good into the world where it’s merited.

  I am Jack Parrish, and I am a father that lost his son before I am anything else.

  Celeste pushes out her chair and steps around the table before she wraps her arms around my neck.

  “Thank you, thank you so much,” she cries.

  Give good and you will get it back. If I never see the good, I hope my children will.

  “Prez, we need to move,” Blackie calls from the living room, forcing me to inch back from Celeste.

  “Duty calls, sweetheart,” I say with a wink and rise from my chair. “See you on the other side. I’ll be the guy holding your daughter when you open the door.”

  Stepping out of the kitchen, I tip my head toward Celeste’s parents, wink at the pretty girl with the green eyes and give the two pigs
standing outside the door, like a bunch of chumps, my middle finger.

  In this world when you want something done, you do it yourself. You tell law enforcement they are not worth a red cent of your tax dollars. If you’re me, you don’t pay taxes at all.

  Hustling down the Brooklyn stoop, I stare at the sea of chrome and a smile ticks at the corners of my mouth.

  Glory be, motherfuckers.

  Here we come.

  I throw my leg over my Harley, forget my age, and do what the fuck I was born to do.

  Raise hell.

  Flicking my headlights on, I flash them at my boys and peel away from the curb. From my side-view mirrors I watch as each bike follows my lead. Behind all the chrome, a white Suburban truck trails behind with Wolf behind the wheel. In times like these we usually take a cage with us. We’re transporting precious cargo these days so I made the old fuck stop off at that baby store and get us a car seat.

  The times man, they’re fucking changing.

  I got a truck with a car seat and a meat mallet in my pocket to prove it.

  It takes us three and a half hours to get our asses back to Albany where we meet with Bas, Needles and the rest of their crew. Albany joins Brooklyn and Bas rides alongside me, guiding me to the location Rush’s old lady gave up.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

  Another four hours on the road before we’re dragging our pipes down a deserted road. Like I assumed, the cabin Rush uses as a safe house is close to the Canadian border, making it pretty fucking obvious they were going to use the intermodal shipment to move Cobra’s little girl.