CHAPTER EIGHT
Release Day
Rio—
My elbows on my knees, I sit on the side of my bunk, staring at the concrete floor, rubbing my palms together, my foot bouncing a mile a minute. Today’s the day I max out of the system. By completing my full prison term, I won’t have to worry about being stuck under the rules of probation. That’s the way I wanted it. This way, the Bureau of Prisons has no say over my life for one more goddamn day.
Footsteps approach, and I look up. A guard comes to stand on the other side of the iron bars.
The cell door swings open with a clank, and I stand, sweeping up my meager possessions—the photo of Shelby and the small stack of letters she wrote me. I turn and shake the hand of the man who has been my cellmate for the last nine years.
“Take care of yourself, Pete.”
“You, too, Rio.”
I follow the guard down the row of cells and through several doors until we come to processing where a prison guard hands me a bag. It contains the items I picked out yesterday from the prison clothing room which contains a bunch of second-hand items donated by charities. I dress in the khaki pants, white t-shirt, and black sneakers.
The paperwork I have to fill out seems endless, then I sit in another cell for what seems like hours until they come to get me.
I’m led into the warden’s office. He gives me a spiel about staying out of trouble, not associating with known felons, yadda, yadda, yadda. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in the nine years I’ve been here. He looks as bored reeling off the memorized statement as I am listening to it.
Finally, I’m led out and down a hall. The smart-ass guard smirks. “We’ll leave the light on for you.”
I grit my teeth. He’s baiting me, and I don’t dare risk reacting. I’m not letting anything fuck up my release.
At last, I’m led through a series of doors, a loud buzzing sound ringing each time one is opened, until I’m through the last door and stepping outside. A narrow path surrounded by chain-link fence leads to the last guard, who verifies my identity, then unlocks the last gate, and then I’m out.
For real. I’m out.
My entire body slumps with relief. It’s done. It’s over. Finally.
I spot the club just the other side of a guard post about fifty yards away on the road leading in, and I start walking. I want to run, but it wouldn’t be wise. As I get closer, I see they’ve got four bikes and a pickup truck.
All our bikes were crushed, so I’m not sure if I’m on one of those or in the truck. Hell, I haven’t ridden in years.
I walk past the guard post, and Zig embraces me. I hold on tight, overcome with more emotion than I expected.
We pull apart, and Zig is grinning. He looks older, with a few more lines on his face, but that smile is so sweet to see.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, and my gaze swings around. Blue, Bandit, Mauler, and Bagger.
“I wondered who I’d see. I wasn’t sure.”
“We all came, boss. Wouldn’t miss it,” Blue says.
I nod.
“You feel up to riding?” Zig asks. “If not, we can take the truck.”
“This one mine?” My gaze lingers over the sleek lines of a new black Harley.
“I know how you like your Road Glides.”
There’s a helmet on the seat, waiting. None of the boys are in their colors. Smart. I don’t want to blow this after everything I did to keep the club out of it. Instead, they wear black hoodies.
Zig tosses me one, and I slip it over my shoulders.
“We’re meeting Ghost in Cloudcroft, and it gets cold in the mountains,” Zig tells me.
Ghost is here to see me? I’m surprised, but I don’t let it show.
“My driver’s license is expired, and they know it.” I jerk my chin to the guard tower. I’m not giving them a reason to stop me. “I’ll ride in the truck until we’re out of sight.”
Zig glances at the guard tower. “Sure, boss. Sorry, I didn’t think of that.”
“We’ll switch once we get a couple miles away,” I say.
“Sure. You ready?” Zig cocks his head.
More than ready. I’ve waited what seems like a lifetime for this. “Yeah. Let’s go, boys.”
Zig slides behind the wheel on the pickup, and I climb into the passenger seat.
I power down the window and flip off the guard tower as Zig pulls out, and my boys do the same. We haul ass, roaring out the long dirt road. Memories of the bouncing prison bus ride that brought me here wash over me. Christ, it feels like a lifetime ago.
I relax back into the leather seat. It all seems surreal.
Zig leans down in a cooler and pulls out a bottle of beer. Ice chips slide along the brown glass. He holds it out to me with a grin, and I take it.
Twisting off the top, I swallow down my first beer in so long, but I know better than to drink a lot tonight. My tolerance for alcohol is gone with the long years of abstinence. Sure, there was homemade hooch inside made by the prisoners who worked in the kitchen—ones who smuggled yeast and sugar and other ingredients to make the stuff. It tasted like kerosene and left a man with a pounding headache. No thanks.
We make it out of sight of the prison, turning off the grounds onto a state road, and Zig eases onto the shoulder, looking over at me.
“You ready to ride?” he asks with a grin.
“Damn straight,” I say, yanking the door handle.
Blue climbs from the black Road Glide and passes me the helmet. “She rides like a dream, boss.”
I put on the helmet and swing my leg over the seat, feeling the leather creak beneath my ass. I lift the weight of the big bike off the kickstand and feel the grips under my hands. “It feels good.”
Zig changes places with Bandit and rolls up alongside me. “Knew you’d like it.”
I fire it up and roar off, Zig at my side, followed by Mauler and Bagger, and Blue and Bandit bringing up the rear in the truck.
The bike feels good beneath me, and the wind in my face is like a dream.
It’s not long before my muscles stiffen. I’ve been lifting weights, but I’ve also been gone from the saddle way too long.
We hit a four-lane separated highway and climb into the mountains. The sun starts to set, and I spot a scenic overlook and pull over.
I climb from the bike and walk to the rail. My heart is pounding and my chest heaving.
“You okay, boss?” Zig eases up on my side like maybe I have PTSD.
I breathe in the clean mountain air and the scent of pine. The weirdness of being out of prison hits me.
“Zig, it’s been nine fucking years since I’ve seen a tree. I think I missed the sky most of all. I haven’t seen a sunset in all that time. It’s funny the things you miss.” My eyes are watery, but only Zig is here to see it. “There were times I didn’t think I’d make it out of there, brother.”
Zig puts his hand on my shoulder. “But you did. You’ve got a whole new life now, Rio, and it starts right now.”
I study the colors of the sunset. “The boys? They wanted to come to New Mexico?”
“Sure did. Jumped at the chance. We’re all here for you, Rio.”
“There’s so much I need to tell you.”
“Me, too. There’s a lot to catch up on.”
“I suppose so.” I stare at the sky, vivid with streaks of pink and gold. “You remember that teller, the one who testified against me?”
“Yeah.”
“She wrote me in prison. Said she was sorry.”
Zig leans a hip on the rail and crosses his arms. “She should be. You saved her life.”
“I almost got her killed.”
“Guess so. She was the same girl from the ice cream place, wasn’t she?”
“Yep.” I swallow and reveal the rest. “She begged me to let her visit.”
“In prison?” His arms unfold.
“Yep. Wouldn’t let up. Her birthday rolled around, and she said it was all she wanted. To come see me. You believe that?”
He whistles low. “Damn. So, you let her?”
“Yeah. She came again on my birthday. Christmas, too. Three times I saw her.” I take my wallet from my back pocket and dig the photo out. “That picture and her letters were the only things that kept me going.”
Zig leans to look at it, then stares at me. “You got feelings for this girl?”
“She stopped coming to see me. Stopped writing. Happened out of the blue. I never understood why. But someone started putting money in my prison account. Not a lot, but enough. The club’s attorney said it wasn’t you guys.”
“You think it was her?”
“There’s no one else.”
“What are you planning to do, boss?”
“I’m going to get revenge on that fucking sheriff, his deputy, and that DA. I want to take over that fucking town.”
“Figured as much. And the girl?”
“I’m going to find her.”
“She’s that important to you, Rio?”
“She’s everything to me, Zig. Everything.” My admission hangs in the air between us.
“We shouldn’t keep Ghost waiting,” Zig murmurs.
“Right. How old is he now?” I ask.
“Twenty-seven, I believe,” Zig replies.
“So damn young,” I mutter. “He doin’ a good job?”
“So far, yeah.”
I take in a long breath and turn to the bikes. “Let’s go meet the man.”