Chapter 8 #2
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Turner, the chief of police, says as he comes jogging down the sidewalk from the station.
I breathe in deep through my nose and spit out towards the so-called leader of the church.
Turner is looking around the street and nearby buildings for witnesses. He and two other officers bend down to check the pulses of the men sprawled out.
“Just a friendly church gathering, Turner, nothing else,” Riot says, shaking out of the hold of the men holding onto his arms. Brass follows suit, discreetly pocketing his brass knuckles in his cut, but I don’t trust myself not to start attacking again, so I stand there waiting for the asshole to say another word that’ll sign his already secured death certificate.
“Friendly? Jesus Christ, there’s teeth on the steps of the church.”
The officers leave Brass and Riot and go to help lift the men up from the ground.
There’s a lot of groaning and crying, but my focus is on one man.
I watch as Walter starts to come around, and I love the satisfaction of seeing all their bright white shirts stained blood red, which causes the corner of my mouth to kick up.
It takes about ten minutes before everyone is coherent.
“Officer, they attacked us for no reason. I want them arrested,” Walter declares playing the helpless victim to Turner. “I was preaching the gospel to a woman when he assaulted me. It was a hate crime.”
Turner angles his head our way then nods to the officer. “Take them over there and get their statements.”
Three men walk us about ten yards down the sidewalk by our bikes.
“Do any of you want to tell us what happened?”
“Like my brother said earlier, just a friendly church gathering,” Brass chimes in with a smirk.
“So how the hell did they all end up on the ground?”
“Praying, I guess. Said something about needing to confess their sins or something,” Riot says shrugging, making Brass and I chuckle.
Turner comes down the sidewalk and instructs the three officers to go and ask around if anyone saw anything.
“I was on the phone with Stone when I heard the call come through. How in the hell am I supposed to do my job when y’all pull this shit?
I need more than five minutes to research something before you take matters into your own hands.
” He runs his hand through his hair and blows out a frustrated breath.
We don’t say a word and let him fume for a few minutes.
“You know I’m going to have to take y’all in, right? ”
“I mean, they look a little frazzled. Are they sure it wasn’t the hand of God that did this to them?” Riot spouts off, and Brass and I can’t help cracking up.
“Shut the fuck up, you guys are always putting me in the worst positions,” Turner says, not liking our jokes. “Turn around and put your hands behind your backs. I’ll let Stone know to come get y’all at the station.”
“Come on, Chief, they started it,” Brass said, mocking like a whiney kid.
“Yeah. Right,” he scoffs. “Is that why they are covered in blood and there’s not a scratch on y’all?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of divine intervention, Chief?” Riot asks.
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Now start walking towards the station,” he tells us once he has all three of us in loose fitting cuffs.
As we make our way down the sidewalk, we walk by the church where the men are now standing, and I slow my steps.
“I’ll see you soon, preacher,” I say to Walter. “The next confessional will make sure you never lay another hand on anyone else.”
“You have her, don’t you?” he asks of Sutton.
“She’s long gone, and you’ll never find her,” I divulge and keep walking. He starts yelling for an officer, and I can only wonder what’s got him in a tizzy.
After walking in, Turner leads us to an empty jail cell.
“Try not to cause any more problems, will ya?”
“Now, Chief, let’s not start placing blame until found guilty by a jury of our peers,” Brass taunts, making Turner roll his eyes as he locks the metal door.
I’m not sure how much times passes until Stone appears with Chains, one of our enforcers, next to him.
“How come I didn’t get the invite to the brawl, VP?” Chain asks sounding a little offended.
“What part of lying low, didn’t you understand?” Stone utters, his face locked up tight.
“Why doesn’t anyone believe that the holy rollers started it? I could be the victim here, geez,” Riot remarks from the bench he’s stretched out on.
“I have a good mind to leave you brothers here for a few days until I know you won’t go all cowboy again,” Stone growls.
“This is all on me,” I say standing up and walking over to where they are perched by the door. I lower my voice, “Shepherd Walter was meeting with someone who had quite the entourage. I think this might be bigger than we think.”
Stone gives a slight nod in acknowledgement then shoves off the metal bars.
“Turner issued each of you a ticket for disorderly conduct since there were no witnesses. Donald is paying the tickets as we speak,” Stone says about our club’s attorney while producing a key from his pocket.
He slides it in the door and pushes it open after turning the key.
Having the police in your back pocket does have its advantages sometimes.
We pile out of the back room and out the front, but Turner stops us before we make it too far.
“Walter thinks you kidnapped his daughter and filed a missing person’s report on her,” he tells us.
I scoff, shoving my hands in the front of my jeans. “She’s not missing.”
“Told him I’d look into it.”
“We’ll have her give you a call,” Stone tells him as we walk down the pavement towards our bikes.
We mount our rides, flipping our ballcaps backwards. Stone spins his pointer finger in the air. “All gas, no grave,” he calls out, and we follow behind his lead as we make our way back to the clubhouse.
When I arrive home later that evening, the house is dark, and my son is nowhere to be seen.
My muscles ache, and my tired bones are ready to crash for the night.
When I pass through the living room, I see the back gate open which tells me that my little man is at my favorite girl’s place.
Why she won’t stay here still infuriates me as I haul my ass across the backyard, dodging the landmines of toys he has strung out everywhere.
As I get closer to Sutton’s backdoor, I can smell the delicious scent of food, and it makes my mouth water.
From the windowpanes on the door, I watch as my son stands on a chair stirring something at the stove.
Sutton is right behind him keeping him at a safe distance from the hot pots.
They have some kid music on, and my chest constricts at the sight.
When I found out that Debbie was pregnant, I thought this was how it was going to be for our son.
A present mom who cared more about her child than herself, but I was wrong.
Debbie only cares about one thing and that is money and her next fix.
I was lucky she stopped snorting through her pregnancy because I made her take a drug test every week with the incentive of giving her a fat stack of cash if she quit.
After giving birth, I didn’t give a shit.
Zane looks over and sees me through the glass as Martha comes in with a sack full of items.
“Daddy!” he calls out, and it makes them turn their heads.
I walk in and greet them like it’s the most natural thing for us. Stepping over to Sutton, I’m careful to wrap an arm around her waist to not touch her back and plant a kiss on her plump pink lips.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say and see the spark in her eyes that wasn’t there a few days ago.
“Hi,” she greets, tucking a section of hair behind her ear.
“Daddy!”
Leaning down I lift Zane up in the air. “Hey, buddy, did you have fun today?”
He giggles and screams a yes as I toss him up and catch him.
“How was your day? Feeling better?” I ask Sutton after setting my boy down on the ground, taking off for Martha.
“I’m sore but getting better. Martha’s been making sure I take my meds,” she says.
“What are you cooking? You’re supposed to be resting not feeding an army,” I tell her.
“I needed to start being productive. Laying around isn’t something I’ve ever been good at.”
“Just take it easy and relax for a bit. If you want, I can keep Zane away a couple days if he becomes too much.” I step into her space, leaving only inches between us.
“I love spending time with him. It’s the highlight of my day,” she says with a genuine smile.
I lean down, pressing my lips over hers and encase my hands on her hips. She steps closer to my chest, closing the gap. My hands slide down her tight ass, thrusting her up against my hard cock as my tongue sweeps into her mouth.
“Sutton, I care a lot about you and want us to make a go of this,” I whisper as my mouth descends to her jaw then neck. “I want you. I know you feel the same.”
“Mmm,” she moans, and I take that as her agreeance.
Pulling away, I snag her hands and drag her out of the kitchen.
“Wait, the food,” she tries to halt me, but my dick is running the show.
“Martha, take Zane outside and listen for the timer,” I yell out as we pass the living room where my boy and Martha are watching some dog on the TV.
The layout of the house is the same as mine except I’ve got more square footage and more garage space.
We enter the master bedroom, and I shut the door and lock it. When I turn, I find her standing at the foot of the bed staring back at me with her bottom lip between her luscious lips.
“Strip,” I command and watch as her eyes widen, but she only hesitates for a moment. I’m trying to be very careful with my tone and words after everything I’ve learned about her South America trip. I don’t want any triggers to bubble up.
I slowly pull my cut off and toe off my boots, never breaking eye contact. She watches me with the same hunger. Sutton pushes down her leggings and panties as my belt and jeans drop to the ground. The only article of clothing she has on is an oversized shirt.