Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Zeke jackknifed straight up and sputtered, “What the fuck?”
Getting hit by something cold and wet was enough to wake the fucking dead.
And with the way his head was splitting wide open, Zeke would rather remain a corpse.
Who the fuck—
He blinked the water out of his eyes to see exactly who.
Shit.
It looked like the conversation he wanted to avoid would happen sooner than expected.
His father, Zak, tossed the now empty plastic bucket to the side. “Out in the fuckin’ courtyard, laid out on a picnic table with your goddamn jeans ‘round your fuckin’ ankles, your panties ‘round your knees, and your fuckin’ limp dick flappin’ in the breeze. Nobody wants to see that shit.”
Zeke begged to differ. If he remembered correctly, Shimmer had a good time, even if they had to do it out in the open because no one had a key to unlock his goddamn room upstairs.
Luckily, Shimmer wasn’t shy.
But then, neither was Zeke.
“Goddamn embarrassment.” Zak jabbed his chest hard with his index finger. Before Zeke could say anything, his old man growled, “Don’t want to fuckin’ hear it. Did this latest stint in the joint make you lose your goddamn mind? And your fuckin’ memory?”
Zeke ground his teeth.
Zak jabbed him again. “You forget what that goddamn patch says on your cut?”
Zeke glanced down before he could stop himself. Where the fuck was his cut?
“You forget you’re the fuckin’ president of this goddamn club?”
Zeke winced. His father’s shouting, combined with his hangover, was making his head throb even worse. “No, didn’t forget. Also didn’t forget you ain’t.” With another wince, he massaged his pounding temples.
“Hope you wore a goddamn wrap. The fuck if you’re ready to be a father. And I sure as fuck ain’t ready to raise any grandbabies. ‘Specially when you keep provin’ that we did a shit job of raisin’ you.”
Zeke gingerly climbed off the picnic table and yanked up his boxer briefs and jeans, not bothering to fasten them. “Since we’re conveniently forgettin’ shit, did you also forget I’m thirty-two-fuckin’-years old? Ain’t a kid no more.” He certainly didn’t need to be scolded by his old man.
Zeke glanced around, relieved to see no one else was outside to witness it.
Including Shimmer.
The sweet butt must’ve split as soon as he passed out.
“Then stop actin’ like it. Grow the fuck up and take your responsibility to this club, our brotherhood, and our family seriously.”
“That ain’t no fun,” Zeke grumbled.
“You want fun, join a fuckin’ circus since you’re actin’ like a goddamn clown.” With a shake of his head, his old man spun on his heel and strode back toward Church.
“Hey,” he called out, then groaned in pain. “You got my keys?”
Zak turned and whipped a set of keys in his direction. They landed in the beaten down grass ten feet from Zeke.
“Delivered your sled, too, in order to spare your fuckin’ mother more disappointment.” As he strode away, he tossed over his shoulder, “You’re goddamn welcome.”
Zeke glanced around, found his cut nearby, then patted the pockets until he found the cigarette case Vi gave him. He slid out a joint, lit it, and pulled in a long hit.
He settled his ass back on top of the picnic table and set his boots on the attached bench, propped his elbow on his thighs, and dropped his head in his hands while waiting for his world to stop spinning.
“Hey, dickhead.”
Great. Zeke’s head twisted toward the very familiar voice.
“You certainly perfected pissin’ off our old man.”
“Can’t all be a fuckin’ brown-noser like you.”
Zane chuckled, dropped his head, and shook it. “Mom wants to see you.”
“Seems like Daddy Dearest don’t want me to see her.”
“Don’t think it’s up to him.” Zeke’s younger brother stopped directly in front of him. “Rough night?”
Zeke lifted his head. “Rough last eight months.”
“That’s what you get for violatin’ parole, dumbass.”
“Should be able to defend myself,” Zeke grumbled under his breath.
“Maybe you shouldn’t try to steal someone’s girl from right under their nose so that someone pulls a fuckin’ gun on you.”
“Maybe he shoulda treated his woman better.”
Zane laughed so loudly, Zeke winced. “Oh, and you think the person who’ll treat her better is you? Get the fuck outta here.” The club’s VP jerked his chin toward him. “Who’d you bang last night?”
“Last I remember, Shimmer.” But once she started riding his dick, he didn’t remember much of anything else. By that time, he’d been thoroughly pickled.
Zane held out his hand and Zeke stared at it for a second before handing over the half-kicked joint. “We’ve been coverin’ for your ass for the last eight months. You’re fuckin’ welcome.”
“We?” He already heard it from Vi, but he wanted to confirm.
The smoke rolled out of his younger brother’s open mouth as he answered, “Me and our old man. But warnin’ you now, brother, this is the last fuckin’ time. Next time there’ll be a vote to strip you of your rank. It was damn close this time.”
Fuck.
“You need to straighten your ass out and stop bein’ a selfish asshole.”
He kept telling himself the same, but unfortunately, kept failing.
“Need to call a damn meetin’ so I can get caught up.”
“Thought Rage was keepin’ you up to date.”
Zeke and Zane grew up with the club’s current sergeant at arms. Rage, AKA Ashton Dougherty, had been the only one visiting him on a regular basis to give him reports on any shit going on with the club while Zeke had been inconveniently “away.”
Zeke’s old man was tight with Rage’s father, Hawk, the club’s former VP.
In Zak’s and Hawk’s case, OG meant older generation, not an “original,” since they were both third generation Dirty Angels, not the first. Of fucking course, the true originals were all long gone and some of them displayed in the gas tanks on the shelf above the private club bar.
Speaking of the bar, he needed some hair of the dog.
“Call a meetin’,” Zeke ordered his VP.
“Already done. Unlike you, I take care of fuckin’ business.”
Zeke squinted up at his blood brother.
Zane held out the keys he had picked up from where they landed in the grass. “Gonna need those.”
“Yeah.”
“Bet your bed’s much more comfortable than that damn picnic table.”
“Ain’t much different from those piece-of-shit racks inside.”
One side of Zane’s mouth pulled up. “Wouldn’t fuckin’ know.”
“Better wipe that brown shit off your nose,” Zeke muttered.
“Got a good thing here, brother, but you keep fuckin’ it up.”
Zeke pulled a breath in through his flared nostrils but kept his thoughts to himself.
“Can’t even get a goddamn thank you for helpin’ hold down the fort.”
“Gonna buy you a beer.”
Zane shook his head. “Beer’s free.”
“Thank fuck for that since I don’t got any scratch.”
“Anyway, it’s too early for fuckin’ beer. Got shit to do. And after bein’ gone eight fuckin’ months, so do you.” Zane twisted on his heel and strode away.
Halfway to the parking lot, his brother paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Forgot to tell you, officer meetin’ is tomorrow night at eight. It’d be smart to stay sober for it so the rest of the rankin’ members don’t regret lettin’ you keep that patch.”
Zeke gave him a two finger salute.
“Oh, don’t forget…the jubilee is this Saturday. Everyone’s expected to show up and support the cause. It would be pretty fuckin’ bad if our own damn president is a damn no show.”
“What fuckin’ jubilee?”
Zane’s dark eyebrows shot up. “No one told you?”
“Wouldn’t fuckin’ ask if they did.”
“Taylor and Dakota are trying out a new fundraiser for the foundation. It’ll be like a carnival with food, rides, games, even a beer garden.”
Taylor Walker and Dakota Delgado both headed the Walker Foundation, named after Taylor’s father, a disabled vet and former Shadow. The non-profit was started by their mothers, Ellie Walker and Frankie Delgado, to financially assist amputees in getting prostheses.
It was one cause the club always rallied around, so yeah, his brother was right. Zeke needed to be there. But since it involved beer, food, and probably some other good shit, he didn’t mind going, anyway.
Other clubs always showed up for support, too, like their close allies, the Dark Knights and the Blood Fury. Even the Blue Avengers, a local MC made up of pigs, showed up.
“Where’s it gonna be?”
“At the Washington County Fairgrounds.”
“Why the fuck out there?”
Zane stared at him for a few seconds too long. “Shimmer fuck your brains out? Or d’you just get dumber every time you go inside?” He shook his head and lifted a palm. “Sure it’s door number two ‘cause you never fuckin’ learn.” With that, his brother continued toward the back lot.
“What-fuckin’-ever,” Zeke muttered under his breath as he stared at his brother’s retreating back. Just as Zane was about to disappear behind the thick wall of shrubs separating the parking lot and the courtyard, he called out, “Hey, Chill, need a phone. Pigs fuckin’ stole mine.”
“Figure it out for your fuckin’ self, Trouble.”
He glanced down at the keys in his hand. He now had his sled and access to his room. First order of business should be getting his phone replaced.
Fuck that, they had prospects for a reason. To be the patched members’ bitches.
They could go buy him one while he crawled into his own bed and slept off the rest of his hangover.
Zeke groaned and rolled over, burying himself deeper under the covers.
“Zeke.”
Was he having another weird dream? He always had a shitload of them whenever he was locked up. That was, when he actually slept.
“Zeke.” Soft fingertips brushed the hair out of his face.
His cellmate better not be fucking touching him. Though, that motherfucker’s fingers couldn’t be soft. He had to have thick callouses from all the jerking off he did.
“LZ.”
Oh fuck.
Not too many people used that nickname anymore. His mother, Sophie, was one of the few, confirming he was no longer in his cell.
He blinked open his eyes and sat up, expecting her to ream him a new asshole.
She only stared at him with sadness and disappointment.
For fuck’s sake. That was even worse. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Checking up on you. Are you okay?”
He pulled himself up straighter and made sure his dick was covered. “Yeah, Mom, I’m good.”
“Well, I can’t say you’re good. Because if you were, you’d stop getting arrested.”
Damn. “Was defendin’ myself.”
“You had your father all riled up. And you know that takes a lot.”
Zeke had a knack for that.
“You’re lucky you had your cut with you. Otherwise, I think he would’ve ripped your patch off himself.”
“Vi said he fought for me to keep my spot.”
“Well…”
“Did she fuckin’ lie?”
“No. But he would’ve made you earn it back.”
“He don’t got that power anymore.”
He liked to think he did, but the truth was he didn’t.
“He worked to keep this club on the straight and narrow for a reason, Zeke. Don’t ruin his hard work.”
“Probably did it to keep you happy.”
“He was determined to keep the club aboveboard long before I met him. It keeps the club stronger and—”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom. He’s already drilled that shit into me too many times to fuckin’ count.”
Her lips flattened out. “You don’t have to be perfect, Zeke, but you need to do better. For the club. Your father wanted everyone’s lives to be better. Don’t destroy everything he built.”
Seriously, her soft scolding laced with disappointment was worse than if she had raged at him. Though, his mother had never raised her voice to either him or his brother. If he ever drove her to that point, his old man would never forgive him.
“Anyway, I just came over to make sure you’re okay and I wanted to give you this…” She dug in her purse and pulled out his cell phone. “Laney found it after you were arrested and gave it to me for safekeeping.”
“Thought those pigs stole it.”
She frowned. “Don’t call your cousin a pig. And you should thank her for returning it.”
Cousin or not, Zeke wasn’t thanking anyone who wore a Shadow Valley PD uniform. Or hell, any pig skin.
“Sure you already thanked her.”
“Of course I did, but I’m sure she’d appreciate it from you.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re out and that it was the last time you’ll be getting arrested. Stop over for dinner this week. The family hasn’t sat down to a meal together in…I don’t know…eight months?”
Damn, his mother knew how to make a point without it being in his face.
She leaned in and hugged him. “Do better, Zeke. Prove everyone who doubts you wrong by being the best president this MC ever had. Or just do it for me.”