Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Willow
Dinner was eventful until my dad finally showed up, an hour late.
He and Max have always had a strained relationship, but it’s never been more present.
Max doesn’t take any of Dad’s shit to heart.
He’s a free spirit with an open mind, so he never lets stuff get to him — and I can see over the years nothing has changed.
Dad may disapprove of his lifestyle, but Max isn’t letting Dad rule his life. Not now, not ever.
“Everything okay?” I ask Dad, noticing how quiet he’s been. Not that it’s unusual, but he’s lost in thought.
“I’m just tired,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”
I nod, glancing at Max, hoeing into some ribs. “Yes, it has.”
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me,” Max says, wiping his mouth with a handful of napkins. “I just got here.”
“Let’s not even get into it,” Dad sighs. “We both know it’ll end in us arguing, and it’s your sister’s night. We’re here to celebrate.”
I frown, looking over at my dad. Is he okay? This isn’t his normal behavior at all. Usually he’s quick to point out what our next strategy is, and how I can improve myself and be a better captain for my team. He notices my stare and his eyebrows shoot up.
“Willow, is something on your mind?” Dad prompts.
I brush it off. “It’s nothing.”
“Speak,” he gruffs. “I didn’t teach either of my children to be wallflowers.”
I steel myself. It’s always hard telling him exactly how I feel. “It’s just you’re not usually so… present.” Well, it’s the truth, and I’ve had a glass of wine.
He tucks back into his dinner. “No offense taken.”
“Dad, you know what I mean. You’re being strangely compliant, and that’s not like you.”
It’s more than he’d normally let me get away with, even as an adult. My father is the strictest man I know, and the fact he’s just sitting here, being this agreeable — knowing Max joined a motorcycle club to boot — makes me think he’s got bad news.
“I have no clue what you mean.”
“Did you get your checkup?” I blurt out. “Because if you didn’t—”
His eyebrows knit together once more. “Yes, I did, and I’m fine.”
“So, there’s no bad news?”
“No, there isn’t. Now can we enjoy a meal together before I get the Spanish Inquisition on my prostate exam?”
“Ew, Dad.” Max screws up his nose, wiping his hands on more napkins. He’s such a pig. “I’m tryin’ to eat here.”
This is surreal in the most confusing of ways. I’m sitting here not only with my dad but also my long-lost brother, and we’re just acting like we’re the damn Brady Bunch. Like, can someone wake me when it’s all over?
Something is going on. Max just showing up here on my ceremony day, and now Dad? Call it the detective in me, I can’t help it.
“In fact, I’ve only got good news. I’m planning on staying in town for a few more weeks,” Dad declares.
“A few more weeks?” Max and I say in unison.
Dad shifts in his chair. “Nice to know you’re both happy to hear that glorious news,” he mutters.
“It’s not that, Dad. I agree with sis. You just seem… I don’t know, kinda laid back,” Max says. “Retirement suits you.”
“Well, I’m not a hundred percent retired,” he says. “In fact, I’ve been donating a lot of my time to some cold cases back home. Thought I’d help out while I’m here.”
I blink. “You’re not serious?”
“Deadly. Do you know how many unsolved cases there are in this city alone?”
“Dad, you don’t have to do that, really,” I start.
“Let him.” Max shrugs. I could kick him in the shin. In fact, that isn’t a bad idea. “Ow, what did you just kick me for?” My brother leans down to rub his shin like a baby.
Good going, asswipe.
“Jesus, Max,” I mutter.
“If you two are quite done,” Dad says. “It’s already arranged — first thing Monday.”
“With who?” I demand. I am the fucking captain and I had no heads up about this. Not that I can stop Tornado Cameron Sinclair when he’s on the warpath.
“The hierarchy, I thought you’d be happy.
An extra pair of hands and a set of eyes.
It’ll keep me busy.” The man is not deterred, and that infuriates me more.
I don’t mind Dad being around for a little while, but poking around at work?
It’s fishy. It’s like he’s keeping an eye on me, or expects me to fail.
“I’m not unhappy,” I say, “but I can do the job.”
“I know that,” Dad replies. “But like I said — another set of eyes on a cold case isn’t a bad thing.”
“Next thing you’re gonna say is you’re movin’ here,” Max chuckles. Great, let’s just go giving Dad some more weird ideas.
“Oh, I’m sure the two of you would love that.” Dad folds the napkin over his lap.
“I’ll be in Mississippi,” Max points out. “But it’s only a few hours. We should do this every Sunday. It’s kinda nice catchin’ up.”
No, it isn’t nice. Why does my brother insist on being Mr. Unobservant? Seriously. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
“Nice?” I sputter, unable to contain myself anymore.
He points a fork at me. “You’re more like Dad, and I’m more like Mom.”
“That’s debatable,” I mutter.
“It’s true. I’m the talker, charmer, better looking and we all know it. Tryin’ to get anythin’ out of the two of you is like squeezin’ blood from a stone.”
“Let’s not get dramatic,” Dad sighs. “Max, for Christ’s sake, get your elbows off the table, are you twelve?”
“Yeah, Max. Come to think of it, I believe the real question here is what have you been doing with yourself all this time?” I smile smugly. Nothing like turning the tables on him for a change.
If he’s annoyed with my tactic, he of course doesn’t show it.
“Well, you know about my little stint in the slammer.” Dad winces just a touch at his words. “Ever since then, I’m a changed man. Honestly, prison changed me. I got clean. Healthy. I work out. I’m feelin’ good. Got a decent job—”
“Doing what?” I look from him to Dad back to him again as our father stays silent.
“Truck mechanic. I’m qualified.” He beams.
I almost fall off my chair. “You went to school?”
“For the last couple of years, yeah, that surprise you, sis? You’re not the only scholar in the family.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dad mutters.
“No, it’s just you kept all of this from us.” I look down at my plate. “It would’ve been nice to have been included.”
“Hey.” I look up at him. “I was gettin’ my shit together. I’m a better person because of it. I’m sorry. I don’t expect either of you to forgive me, but I’ll work on gainin’ your trust back.”
Dad looks skeptical, but I want to believe him.
I clear my throat. “I’m proud of you,” I say. “For sticking it out.” He’s right, I am surprised, not that he isn’t smart. But Max has always had an attention deficit, not that he’d ever get tested. The fact that he stuck to something and finished it is a wonder in itself.
He ruffles my hair in that annoying brotherly way as I try to shrug him off. “Aww, thanks, sis.”
“What are the MC paying you to do work for them?” Dad asks as Max glances at him. “What? They do pay you, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a business owned by the club, I prospected while I finished my apprenticeship,” he explains. “Hornet is a diesel mechanic, he let me tag along a few times until I realized I really enjoy heavy machinery.”
“Who’s Hornet?” I ask.
“The club’s Enforcer,” Max says.
Of course. What is it with MC club enforcers and garages?
Tag does the exact same job, except they only service Harleys and vehicles.
Rock, who has the Truck n’ Haulage business, let the MC buy in, and now their towing and truck mechanic business is through the roof.
If Max were working here, it’d be easier to keep my eye on him, not that he’s gonna jump ship from the Hellions. I know how deep biker’s loyalties lie…
“Have you looked into this club?” Dad directs that question at me.
“The Hellions?” I balk.
“Yes, the Hellions? Who are we dealing with here?”
I shrug. “How would I know? They’re in Mississippi. Not my jurisdiction. I also just found out Max is part of their MC today.” I emphasize that last part.
“You could just ask me.” Max offers.
“We’d only get a biased answer,” Dad replies. “And I know for sure they’re nothing like the NOLA Rebels.”
“How do you know that?” Max fires back. “Bane is a good man, and he took me in when I had nowhere else to go—”
“Which is exactly what these cult-like clubs do,” Dad says, his nose in the air.
Jesus, here we go. His air of superiority always shows its ugly head.
“Cult like? Dad, you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yourself,” Max defends. “They’re a good bunch of guys, and legit.”
Dad focuses his attention on my brother. “How legit could they be? They’re a gray area. I know all about that cigar business they hide behind.”
I do, too. I don’t know what they do in that tobacco shop called Cigar Haven, but I’m sure there’s nothing legit about it.
“Dad, you watch too many movies,” Max says, licking his fingers. “I need more napkins.”
I toss some across to him, but my father isn’t done yet. Oh, no, he’s just warming up.
“Bro, just be careful, that’s all we’re saying, right, Dad?”
Dad looks less than impressed. “Their feud with the Skeltons leaves little to be desired,” Dad says, referring to the rival MC club in Mississippi.
From what I heard, the Skeletons were helping the Cut City Boys get across the state line, thus my undercover op when we busted their plan right open.
Of course, I have the MC to thank for that little hiccup.
They barged in before we were ready to make arrests, resulting in a massive investigation afterward.
Yes, we succeeded in arresting most of those implicated, but it was messy.
What the MC doesn’t realize is the implications of their actions when they rush in and try to take over official police business.
Granted, they didn’t know at the time I was undercover, but we’re the police for a reason.
They need to keep their noses out and let the cops run this city.
Not the MC. Not the fucking mafia — yes, they have ties with the Irish that hasn’t gone unnoticed, and let’s not even talk about the underworld.
They already took down the Carusos — a very old mob family who moved back to Louisiana some years ago to stake a claim.
They were trafficking from here to Texas and running drugs and guns through the city.
They were a hierarchy that had to be eliminated, we can all agree on that.
The Gulf Cartel still rules over most of Southern Texas, but the Stiletto Riders keep them in check, and the MC up to date. Those chicks are badass.
So the Rebels took the Carusos down, but the police got all the accolades. From the inside out, I see what’s been going on in this city, which is one of the reasons a shakeup in the force was necessary.
Too much corruption meant too many cops were looking the other way, and that divides the force. It was the biggest arrest in New Orleans in recent years.
At least with the Rebels, I know Cash has no agenda other than keeping this city safe.
The Hellions, however? Well, I know they were heavily involved in cracking a trafficking operation by some asshole called Monty Jefferson in Mississippi, out of my jurisdiction of course, but it was huge. Jefferson was never heard from again.
Bane and his MC not only helped, they more or less orchestrated the whole thing. Nevada,who was trying to find his ol’ lady’s kidnapped sister, Tilly, was heavily involved in the takedown.
Speaking of which, Dad also seems to know an awful lot about the Hellions all of a sudden, and I have no doubt he’s done his research the second he found out about Max. Now I’m kind of annoyed because he kept this to himself and didn’t tell me.
“Our beef with the Skeletons isn’t gonna reach you, or anybody,” Max says. “In fact, they’ve been quiet for a while now, so that’s good news.”
I love how Max just sweeps it all under the rug like everything is A-Okay. I worry about him. His fucking naive nature will get him hurt one day. Not everything is cut and dry. Maybe I’ve seen way too much as a cop, I don’t know, but I am concerned about him.
I know that the MC isn’t a cult like Dad suggested, but they are a brotherhood. And blood doesn’t always run as thick as water, despite what they say.
“MC’s like them are never quiet for long,” Dad says. “Just watch your back. Heaven knows I can’t convince you to come back home. Keep your head above water and your ass out of jail.”
I agree with those sentiments.
As the server clears, a text pops up on my phone. It’s from Haze.
Haze
Need to talk
I look up at my brother and Dad, both of them are looking at the dessert menu. I quickly thumb out a reply.
Me
Not tonight. Family night
Haze
Text SOS if you need help
I smile despite myself.
Me
I’ll be fine. I’m the one with a gun