Chapter Fifteen
Zane
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Big John stood at the end of the table in the office of Gem Haven Motorcycle Club clubhouse. His officers sat on the right side, and those with twenty years of seniority within the club stood at the back of the room. Zane waited to see if anyone had questions about the updates on the fire and then dismissed the meeting.
"Go ahead and talk with Big John. We'll take volunteers first before we assign anyone to the job." He stood and walked away from the table.
"Where's Kingsley?"
He turned around, scanning the crowd and spotted Smoker lifting his finger. "I sent him out on a different job."
"What job?" Smoker stepped forward.
"When I feel like everyone should know, then you'll know." He stood his ground. "Do you have a problem with how I run Gem Haven?"
Smoker backed down and shook his head. "No, Prez."
"If you're so interested in what the fuck goes on around here, I'd suggest being the first in line to volunteer for fire watch." He looked around, ready in case anyone else wanted to question him.
He wasn't in the fucking mood to have his actions questioned, especially by his officers.
Razz smacked him on the arm, holding his hand over the phone. "Call from prison."
Jesus Christ. What now?
He took the phone. "This is Zane Stafford."
"Mr. Stafford, this is a courtesy call regarding Ridge Stafford; you're the emergency contact in his folder. We're informing you he's in Inmate Medical Care with a laceration received during a fight with other inmates in the exercise yard. He'll be kept overnight and then put in solitary until his stitches are removed. At that time, he will reenter Block B. Do you have any questions?"
He turned his back to the men in the room and closed his eyes. "I have visitation approved for next Sunday. Can you tell me if that is still on?"
"Hold, please."
He gritted his teeth. There was no need to ask if his dad was okay. He was in medical care, not the morgue. He was more upset that this would probably fuck up his dad's parole hearing.
"Mr. Stafford?"
"Yes, I'm still here."
"The visitation is approved."
After thanking the caller, he disconnected, found Razz, and gave him back the phone. It was past time to meet River at the bar.
He rode his Harley down the hill, parked, and walked inside. Not seeing River, he checked the kitchen and found her talking with Lori. The moment she spotted him, she hurried over.
All he wanted to do was take her back to the house, fuck her over and over, and then get eight hours of sleep. Hell, he'd give up sleep to have time with River.
Taking her to the booth in the back, he slid into the same side as her and trapped her against the wall. It was his fucking time. He wasn't going to waste it.
"Is everything okay?" she whispered.
He put his hand under the table and squeezed her thigh. Unable to stop, he kept his hand there and stroked her bare leg with his thumb.
"I've got a lot of shit going on." He stretched his legs out and kicked the other side of the booth. "To top it off, I got a call from the prison. My dad was taken to medical."
"Oh my God, what happened? Is he okay?"
He shrugged. "He's alive. I'm not sure what happened beyond there was a fight in the exercise yard, and he has a laceration and stitches."
"Can you go see him?"
"I've got a visitation with him on Sunday," he said.
"I hope he's okay." She leaned against him. "I can see why you're upset. The thought of someone you love hurt and in pain is an awful feeling, especially when you know there isn't anything you can do."
Pain is what his dad inflicted on others. Ridge Stafford could hold his own. Getting sliced in prison came with the game his dad played. It wasn't the first time he collected damage, and it wouldn't be the last.
"He'll be fine. He always is."
Rebecca approached the table and took their orders. Once she left, he slipped his hand between River's thighs again. He couldn't keep from touching her.
When he got weak, caved, and ended up visiting River, he made sure to keep their relationship confined to the privacy of the house. He tried hard never to put her in a position where she had to explain and defend their relationship.
He exhaled, wishing to go back in time to tell his dad to go to hell when he asked for the favor. His dad knew that he would die before he failed. It was the way he was raised. Kingsley was the same way.
He had no idea the little girl who lost her whole family would become more important to him than his own life. Loving her was sweet torture.
"Earlier, you mentioned Kenna could be running away instead of to you." He grabbed the water glass to put some distance between them.
He should've sat on the other side of the table. His exhaustion caused mistakes he couldn't afford.
"I don't know what I was saying or if it would have anything to do with Kenna. I haven't seen her since she was twelve years old." She sighed. "It seems like a lifetime ago."
"Go on with the thought," he urged.
River bowed her head and stared at her lap. He wanted to change his mind and tell her to forget about it. He could sense the pain it caused her. The search for Kenna would go on with or without River's help.
"Kenna was always much braver than I was. No matter what happened, she always cared for me, but..." She frowned.
He waited for her to continue, but she shook her head as if changing her mind. "Anything you know that could help Kingsley—"
"She closed herself off after my dad died." River blew out her breath. "If someone tells her something she doesn't want to hear, she would rather run away than hear the truth."
"Do you think she'd run from Kingsley?"
She looked at him. "I don't know."
"She used to talk to Kingsley when he visited her."
Movement on his right stopped him from saying more. Rebecca handed them their food and left again.
"I'm probably wrong." River frowned. "Sometimes, I'll lay in bed and think about everything Kenna and I have gone through, and I wish I had known that she was hurting and scared. I leaned on her as my older sister, but she was a child like me. She was just as scared as I was about the changes in our lives after Dad died."
He swallowed the guilt of taking part in the secret that kept her from knowing her dad was alive. Tom Pruitt had been alive for the last nine years, and she'd missed out on that time of knowing he was on death row. She could've visited him. She could've said goodbye.
But would knowing the truth save her from further pain when her dad was given a lethal injection to end his life?
"I think Kingsley is going to have to figure out if Kenna's running from her problems or him before he stands a damn chance of catching up to her," he muttered.
Needing her to eat, he motioned at the plate and took a bite out of his burger, even though he was too exhausted to have an appetite.
Several minutes later, she said, "The best thing in my life was having you there the day the social worker took Kenna away. If you hadn't been there or if you would've ignored the pleas of a child, I don't know what would've happened to me."
He shoved his plate away. "I need to get out of here."
"You're not going to eat?" She frowned. "I thought we were having dinner together."
"Too much shit going on." He slid out of the booth. "I'll talk to you later."
He walked out of the bar without looking back. The only relief he'd find tonight was to shut himself in the office of the clubhouse with a whole bottle of rum and a liter of Coke.