24. Dutch
I paced my living room like a caged animal, wearing a shine into the wood floor, when my phone buzzing caught my attention. I snatched it up to see a text from Saint.
Saint:
On my way.
Just what I needed, more shit and judgment. I finished my beer and crumpled the can, heading to the kitchen to throw it away.
The knock at the door came sooner than I had expected. I opened it to find Saint. We exchanged a nod as I allowed him to pass. He moved by me, and I gestured to an armchair.
"Want a beer?" I offered.
"Nah, this isn't exactly a social call," he informed me.
I let out a humorless chuckle. "I figured as much. What shit's hitting the fan now?"
Saint's eyes narrowed. "What the hell's going on, man? Rumors are flying that Darian is making moves. He's not just coming for you. He's gunning for Makari on some 'because he can' bullshit."
I ran a hand over my head, noticing stubble. It was time for a shave. "It's complicated. You know, Darian has been trying to hit me beneath the belt ever since I left the force."
"The nigga can hold a grudge, can't he?" Saint asked.
"Well, shit, he finally got the ledger he'd been after, so I figured he'd leave me the fuck alone after that."
"I know you aren't letting him walk away with that shit?"
I smirked at his tone. "Hell, I hadn't had time to think it through, but now that you mentioned it."
"I don't know what you're thinking, but you can't do it alone. I know we don't always see eye to eye, but I've always had your back."
I was tempted, but I didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's involvement in this old vendetta against me.
Silence hung in the air for a minute.
"I think you should trap that motherfucker," Saint suggested.
My eyebrows shot up, waiting for more.
"I have a contact who'll feed him some bullshit intel, and when he shows up ready to gloat, we'll be ready."
Saint and I got busy planning out the details. My fists clenched. The thought of getting to that bastard set my blood on fire, but I couldn't let emotion cloud my judgment.
"If I pull this off, it will keep Makari and the club safe. However, one wrong move, and I'm fucked."
"You need to nip this shit in the bud once and for all," Saint said.
I nodded, contemplating our plans.
Saint leaned forward. "How are you holding up, man?"
Caught off guard, I blinked. "Da fuck you mean? I'm fine."
"Nah, ever since Makari's been back in your life, you've been different, and I don't mean that in a bad way."
I scoffed. "You trying to say I've gone soft or something?"
"Not soft, human is more the word I'm looking for. It's like you remembered there was more to life."
I wanted to deny Saint's words and tell him he was full of shit, but deep down, I knew he was right.
"Makari… our story is… complicated. Our history, it's?—"
"I know," Saint cut me off. "That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking how you're doing with all of this. The Dutch I knew a year ago would have burned shit down to get what he wanted, but now…"
I felt exposed. "Now what?" I questioned.
"Now you're actually thinking about the consequences. Weighing the risk for all of us."
I was silent, soaking up his words." He was right, but admitting it scared the shit out of me. "Yeah, I guess she's changed me."
"Sounds solid, boss."
Saint held my glare and then nodded. "All right, I'll hit you up when everything is in place. All you have to do is show up."
"Got it," I replied, feeling gratitude. I leaned forward. "I need you to do something for me, though, while I'm dealing with this shit."
Saint's eyebrows arched. "What up?"
"Hold down the fort. I'm taking a leave of absence and appointing you in charge while I'm gone."
Pride flicked Saint's face. "You got it, boss."
"No, 'you' got it, boss," I corrected him.
Saint cracked a smile. "We've been through some shit, haven't we?"
"And we aren't done yet."
I stood, signaling the end of our meeting. Saint followed, and I walked him to the door. There was so much more I could say, but the words were lodged in my throat. How do you thank someone who'd been your right hand for years?
Saint stepped on the porch, turned back, and clapped me on the shoulder. This silent gesture spoke volumes of support and brotherhood. I returned the sentiment. I watched him disappear as he mounted his bike and peeled off, but I was at peace, knowing the club was in good hands.
I shut the door, and I was alone with my thoughts. The silence around me was deafening.
I sat on the couch and passed out for about two hours. I woke up confused about what day it was. When I pulled myself together, I headed to the kitchen, washed my hands, and made myself a sandwich, which I demolished in four bites. I made another for Makari, needing to make sure she ate.
I put hers on a plate, cut it in half, grabbed a soda from the fridge, and headed upstairs. At the door, I balanced the sandwich in one hand as I pushed the door open and held the soda in the other. When I entered the room, Makari sat up.
"Hey, I made you a sandwich in case you're hungry." I set the items on the nightstand.
She nodded, avoiding my eyes. I set my phone on the bed and pulled my shirt over my head. I entered the ensuite bathroom, washed my face with a washcloth, hit my armpits, and brushed my teeth, hoping to hear back from Saint soon.
Back in the room, I noticed Makari had barely eaten. I grabbed a clean shirt and pulled it over my head. I picked my phone up from the bed, noticing the text from Saint with an address and time, so I shoved the phone in my pocket.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm going to figure out a way to clear my name and show you I'm not bullshitting you."
"It's not that deep," she stated.
"Apparently, it is. For this to work between us, we need full transparency."
"I don't want you going out there getting hurt. Darian is dangerous," Makari warned.
"I'm already at rock bottom if I lose you, so I have to make things right. Trust what I'm getting ready to do won't take long, and I'll be back, and we can talk. Eat that sandwich."
I exited the room, headed downstairs to the wooden cabinet in the living room, and tapped in the combination. Inside, my gear, from a life I tried to leave behind but could never fully escape, waited.
I was ready to fuck some shit up by any means necessary. I strapped my Kevlar vest on. "I'm getting too old for this shit," I grumbled. I grabbed my cut and zipped it up. I was about to end this shit one way or another.
I stepped outside, swung my leg over my bike, kicked up the stand, and peeled out. The wind whipped past me as I made my way to the meeting spot.