Chapter 1
Chapter One
TWELVE YEARS LATER
The Mermaid’s Shanty was hoppin’ tonight. They’d had to call in all their servers to keep up with orders.
Merry fuckin’ Christmas.
Jude twisted the caps off six ice-cold beers and set them on a tray.
Before grabbing it, the server slapped a cocktail napkin on the counter. “This is from the blonde at table nine. She wants to know if you’re single.”
He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. Ignoring the napkin, he dropped lime wedges onto the rim of two mojitos and handed them off.
He’d been working at this bar in the Florida Keys for a few weeks and had a running list of pros and cons.
The owners of the bar wanted to retire, so they’d neglected some upkeep.
But the shitty speakers and broken faucet were easy fixes.
The pros were the great location and demographics.
If he flipped this place, he’d bring in live bands and host events.
Make it the social focal point of the area.
He’d wait for the financials, but it seemed like a winner.
The worried expression of the woman at table six caught his attention. A while ago, some guys had joined the group of nurses. It had taken a matter of minutes for them to couple up. Lots of laughter, lots of flirting.
Except for that one woman. She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself. He lined up glasses for espresso martinis. He poured vodka into the shaker but kept his eye on her as she got up, grabbed money from her wallet, and threw it on the table.
The guy who’d been hitting on her watched her walk away. Jude didn’t like the hard look in his eyes as he tracked her progress toward the exit.
But his skin went tight when the asshole got up to follow her out.
Jude set the coffee liqueur down. “Take over for me,” he said to another bartender before lifting the bridge. He came out from behind the bar and strode across the room. By the time he caught sight of her, she was outside and heading for her car. The guy lagged just a little behind.
“Hey,” Jude called.
Both of them whipped around at his harsh tone.
The woman noticed the creep not five feet from her, and her eyes went wide in fear.
“What’s up?” Jude asked the guy.
“Just came out for a smoke.” His gaze slanted sideways, as if looking for a way out of the conversation.
“Yeah? Where are the cigarettes?” The guy clearly didn’t have any, so Jude got right up in his face. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back.”
After giving Jude a quick once-over—taking in his height, ink, and muscles—the guy pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed off to his truck.
“You okay?” Jude asked the woman.
Relief softened her features. “Yes.” She hitched her purse onto her shoulder.
“I had no idea he was following me. God, if you hadn’t noticed…
” She hit the button on her remote, and the lights flashed on her car.
She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat before turning to face him. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“No problem. Have a good night.” As he hustled to get back inside, he took a moment to check his phone. The family chat was on fire tonight.
Boone: Nice catch, butterfingers.
Jude smiled at his youngest brother’s comment, but it also reminded him that he’d missed Decker’s game against Cincinnati.
Decker: Fuck off. We won. That’s all that matters.
Times like this, he regretted the distance. With Decker in the NFL and Jude in Florida, their schedules rarely aligned for family get-togethers.
Ava: Congratulations, Decker. It was a nail-biter.
Dad: Who the fuck took my work gloves?
Decker: Oh, hey, thanks, Dad! Appreciate the support!
Dad: After you pulled your head out of your ass, it was a good game. That was a nice forty-five-yard strike on a third-and-fifteen play. Now, who took my fucking work gloves?
Boone:
Wyatt: Me. Remember, we had to sedate that wolf with the abscessed thigh? You helped me crate it.
Dad: Oh yeah. Well, bring them back. Half my fence came down with that last snowstorm.
Boone: Should he wash the pus off first? Or just leave them on the kitchen counter for you?
Dad: Fair point. Keep them. I’ll get a new pair.
Ava: Decker and Jude, will you boys be home for Christmas?
Boone: One of you guys better be. We lost Snowfest for the first time last year ’cause you both fucked off.
Decker: No, got a game in Detroit.
Ava: Oh shoot. I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll miss you.
Ava: Give me an address where I can mail you something. I hate to think of you alone in a hotel room.
Boone: I don’t know what lies he’s telling you, but that’s not what life on the road is like for a football player.
Decker: Says the guy who plays circle jerk with his hotshot buddies out in the forest.
Decker: But yeah, I won’t be alone. We’ll have a team dinner. And then, family members can come over for the team snack after we do a walkthrough on Friday night.
Ava: What about you, Jude?
He’d just started to type his reply when his phone rang. He didn’t get many calls. Every now and then, one of his Marine buddies needed to talk. He’d drop everything for them. Same with his family. But that was about it. He didn’t stay anywhere long enough to make friends.
He might’ve ignored it, but the area code was Calamity. Just in case it was important, he answered. “Yeah?”
“Are you Jude?” It was a kid’s voice.
What the hell? “Who’s this?”
“It’s Cody. Will you get me a bike? Please?”
“What?” Jude wanted to hang up, but it was a kid. He could at least figure out what was going on.
“I got to go to school, or I’m gonna get in trouble, and Amy’s my friend, and she doesn’t got any other friends ’cept me, and if I’m not there, she’s sad.”
Wait a minute. Am I being pranked? “Did Boone set you up for this?” Jude pulled the phone away to check the number again. He had no idea what was going on.
“Who’s Boone?” the kid asked.
“My brother.”
“Oh. I don’t got a brother. So will you get me one?”
“Kid, you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Are you Jude?” the boy asked. “My dad’s friend?”
“Who’s your dad?”
As he crossed the patio, the roar of conversation drowned out the kid’s voice, but a familiar name snagged his attention. “Say that again.”
“My dad said to call you. You’re his friend.”
“You said Marco? He was your dad?”
“Yeah. My dad’s dead.”
Holy shit. “Hang on.” Instead of entering the bar, he hurried around to the side of the building, where it was quieter. His boots sank into the sand, and he leaned against the rough wood siding. “Say that again. Marco Rossi’s your dad?”
“Yeah. He died. And now, I live with my grampa.”
“Okay, but how’d you get my number?” He hadn’t talked to his old friend in years.
“My dad gave me a picture of you and him together. On the back, it says, ‘If I’m not around, call Jude. He’s me just in another place.’”
The words echoed inside his brainpan.
Me in another place.
Sorrow sliced through him.
Regret.
That was the thing about Marco. He could be a total fuckup—he had the worst judgment of anyone Jude knew—but then, he’d say something like that. Something insightful. Sensitive. And it exposed a whole other side of him.
A side worth knowing.
The side that saved his ass when he was the soft new kid dropped into a strange and scary biker world.
His eyes squeezed shut, and he dropped to a crouch, lowering his head into his hands and letting the pain engulf him.
After the Marines, Jude made the decision not to go home. As much as he loved his family, he knew there was no way to reinvent himself in a small town. So he’d hit the road. He’d seen a lot of this country. It was easy to get bartending jobs. Hell, his dad owned Wild Billy’s. He’d grown up in one.
It was only last year, when he’d heard Marco had died, that Jude wished he hadn’t cut him out so completely.
And yeah, he’d known about a son. He just hadn’t given it much thought. Having a kid was outside his realm of understanding.
“Mister?” the kid asked. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. So you need a bike, huh?”
“Yeah. Can you get me one?”
The waves crashed and dragged on the shore, and a salty breeze cut through the humidity. Things just weren’t adding up. “Where’s your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
A couple staggered past him, heading for the shore. “Where are you right now?”
“In the club.”
Marco’s son was living in the bike club? “And you’re with your grandpa?”
“Yeah, but he’s sick and can’t take me to school, and I really need to go.”
Jude watched moonlight hit the surface of the ocean and splinter. A group gathered around a bonfire. A couple humped each other in the shadowy space underneath a house on stilts.
Marco’s son. It was taking him a minute to wrap his head around it. “How old are you?”
“Five.”
In Calamity, all grade levels were housed in one complex. The club was a good fifteen miles from the school. Yeah, not a chance a kid could ride a bike there.
“Please, Mister? Will you get me a bike?”
The urgency in his tone had Jude standing. “Yeah, I’ll get you one.”
“Thanks.”
Before he could ask to speak to the grandfather, the kid disconnected.
He’d give the guy a call in the morning, get a better understanding of the situation.
But he guessed he had an answer for Ava.
Jude: Yeah, I’ll be there.