Chapter 19
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Jack
Work doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’m not as comfortable as Jay and Cloudy are, though. They do this every day. I won’t lie. After two years of wandering, I’ve gotten lazy. I love Jay and want to help out, but I’m tired. My first day felt more like three. Seeing the ’57 Chevy was worth my time.
Thank goodness I only have to do this three days a week. I can choose any three days I want from Monday to Thursday unless Jay needs me. Since I’m expected to be the next club president, Dad wants me with him or out doing club business from Friday to Sunday. Club business is every day, all day, and it comes first. Dad has his work or school rule, so here I am.
The tension at the clubhouse was still on edge. Maci and Ember come home from college every weekend. Mom’s running ragged between Dad and Harley. My older sister is dead set on destroying herself and the entire family. Everly, Logan, and Granddad are helping as much as they can. Nana’s overseeing the kitchen at The Den. Everybody’s spread thin.
Dad and I haven’t spoken since things exploded between us. It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for the rough night with Harley. My family has a lot to deal with, and none of us seems to know how to navigate through any of it. Changes are definitely coming, though. We can’t keep going like this.
For three weeks, I’ve worked at the shop with Jay. Lily’s doing okay at the bakery, not great but okay. She and Emily have become good friends, but she doesn’t enjoy working there. Emily keeps her in the back doing prep work and teaching her to bake. Lily’s passion is being a nurse. This job is slowly draining her. A little piece of her seems to die every day. I’m struggling, too.
For three weeks, I’ve followed the advice from Mom, Nana, and the counselors we secretly employ for Ariel’s Angels. I’ve been gentle and soft-spoken with Lily. For every step I make forward with her, a memory hits, and things are thrown ten steps back.
Mom insists Lily needs gentleness and time. The pull I feel with Lily is more than attraction. I haven’t admitted it, but my family and brothers see it. Jay thinks it’s downright funny. I may have to hurt my cousin.
Lily’s slipping into depression. Mom mentioned our counselors to her, but she refuses to speak to one of them. I may need to, though. This soft, sweet, gentle side I have to show around Lily is driving me insane. I care about her, so I do it. I feel like a caged bear ready to explode at any moment. I definitely have a split personality now.
The thundering sounds of bikes on Main Street fill the air. Hearing them has me itching to ride. I drove my truck again today. Lily’s still not ready to live dangerously enough to get on the back of my bike. She wants to. Her eyes fill with excitement for a moment every time I mention going for a ride. Fear pushes her excitement away too quickly. Eventually, I’ll get her behind me.
“We might get some work done if everybody wasn’t coming to see you. It’s not like they all haven’t seen you already.” Cloudy throws a shop towel at me and walks toward the street to see who’s coming this time.
“Those aren’t ours.” Jay steps beside me in the open bay door.
How he knows those bikes aren’t our members just from the sound is a mystery to me. Sure, I can recognize a few of our guys’ bikes, but most of those are custom designs. The sounds of the engines get louder, sending an eerie cold feeling up my spine. If Jay’s right, does it mean we have trouble coming?
I glance at my cousin. There’s not a doubt in his mind those aren’t our brothers. He’s never been wrong on this before. He and I walk across the drive to where Cloudy’s watching Main Street.
A few weeks ago at The Cupcake Cottage flashes in my mind. My eyes dart toward the bakery. If Willow Creek Market wasn’t on the corner, I could see the front of the bakery. Surly, Trace went home after our little run-in. My first thought is to run across Main Street. Lily’s safe. Emily knows what to do if trouble starts.
The three of us watch as four bikes, and not our brothers, travel east on Main Street toward the center of town. Every bone in my body stiffens, and my hands ball into fists. The only reason I’m not running across the street now is because they kept going.
“Well, I be darn.” Cloudy’s eyes harden. “Midnight Mavericks.”
Trace didn’t listen. He should’ve gone home and stayed there. Chattanooga is about three hours away. What’s got him hanging out in Willow Creek?
“That’s not good.” Jay pops the top on a soda.
“Why? The Mavericks up to something?” I take a step closer to the street, straining to hear their engines.
“Sounds like they stopped at Angie’s.” Cloudy’s listening, too.
Jay leans against the side of my truck on the edge of the drive. “Rumor in the vine says Trace’s family’s pissed about something. No word on why or who at.”
“I had a run-in with him at the bakery a few weeks ago. Told him to go home.” I look toward the direction of the bakery again. The Mavericks aren’t there. They’ve stopped, but they haven’t killed their engines yet.
“Trace is here?” Jay asks.
“Yeah. Brock, Diesel, and Buck were with him.” I should’ve had one of our brothers follow them out of town.
“If Trace is here, guess that means they’re pissed at us.” Cloudy joins Jay against the truck.
“What have we done?” I’ve only been home for a month. Whatever it is, it happened before that.
Jay shakes his head. “No clue. We haven’t done anything major in months.”
I turn to face him. “What was the last thing you did?”
My cousin knows an enemy can take months, sometimes years, to plot revenge. If you want to do it right, you want to serve it up cold. The colder the better.
“Concerning the Mavericks?” Jay thinks for a moment. “Just racing in The Valley.”
The Valley is an open field the owner turned into a racing track over sixty years ago. He and his buddies started the races during their high school days. It’s not an official race track by any means. It’s about fifty miles south of us and Dades Creek. The Valley gets raided ever so often. The staged raids let the locals believe the cops are monitoring it. They aren’t. The cops are paid to look the other way.
“What did they lose?”
“Just cash. Nobody put up slips or anything else against them.” Jay finishes his soda and tosses the can into the back of my truck.
I point my finger at him. “That’s not a trash can.” With my thumb, I point to the shop. He’s got plenty of trash cans in there.
Jay rolls his eyes and laughs. He gets that can out of my truck bed, though.
“Bring me a soda,” Cloudy calls out.
Jay comes back with two sodas. Cloudy walks to the middle of the drive with his. I don’t want a soda, but my hands need something to do before my mind goes crazy.
“Losing a couple thousand dollars isn’t enough to make them come after us,” Jay says.
It’s not. Everyone who goes to The Valley knows it. The rules at The Valley are straightforward. Whatever happens at The Valley stays in that field. Cash doesn’t usually cause problems. It’s when they bet slips and other things that cause fights. A few guys have been so wasted that they bet their women. That’s against the rules. In fact, it’s rule number two. However, side bets happen without the people running the races knowing about them.
“They’re moving,” Cloudy calls out.
Jay and I walk out to the middle of the drive, not as close to the street as Cloudy. The roar of the engines gets louder. The sounds bounce off the buildings.
“They aren’t on Main Street.” Jay points to our right. “They’re using the back streets and coming this way.”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “You armed?” Stupid question.
“Absolutely.”
“I mean more than just knives.” Still stupid.
“Absolutely.” Jay grins, and his eyes dance. My insane cousin lives for moments like this.
It’s beyond bold, cocky, and stupid for Trace to come to Jay’s shop, no matter how mad he is. Everybody knows Jay can come unhinged in the blink of an eye. Sadly, for a lot of men, they didn’t realize it until it was too late.
There’s no time to call for backup. It’s just the three of us today. We’re more than enough to handle four Mavericks.
Four bikes come around the curve two blocks down the street. The lead rider, without a doubt, is Trace. I’d know that low-life piece of crap and his bike anywhere. Tracy Coombs and I were born hating each other. Our families' clubs have been rivals long before we were born. We’ll die hating each other, too.
Jay, Cloudy, and I stand firm, waiting for their arrival. Jay already has a knife hidden in his palm. I should have known he’d go for a knife first. The Mavericks slow but don’t pull into the drive. Jay and I keep our eyes on Trace as he rolls by.
“Hit the deck!” Cloudy shouts.
I snap my head toward our brother. Cloudy throws his soda toward the street and dives into the grass between two cars on the other side of the drive. The last rider throws something toward us. The ball of smoke sends Jay and me scrambling to the other side of my truck. Was that a bomb? The sounds of gunfire echo through the streets. Customers at the market scream and run for their cars or back inside.
“That’s not gunfire.” Jay’s on his feet and heads to the center of the smoke.
“Jay, wait!”
He doesn’t listen. He’s not wrong, either. The last couple of pops come, leaving only a cloud of smoke. Cloudy walks through the smoke, waving his arms. It’s not that bad. The wind’s already carrying it across the street.
Jay meets me at the back of my truck. He places a brick in my hands. “They had at least two or three strands of firecrackers around this.”
“That’s a lot of smoke for firecrackers.” Cloudy glares down the street. Trace is long gone.
“From the ashes on the pavement, I think they had paper wrapped around the brick.” Jay leans back against the truck and shakes his head.
“What does this mean?” Cloudy takes the brick and looks it over. “Why are the M&Ms messing with us?”
“It means they’re toying with us.” I rub the back of my neck. This is a childish prank.
“It means we call Uncle Jacob and have church. I’m closing the shop.” Jay storms away.
“Guess this confirms we’re who they’re pissed at.” Cloudy places the brick back in my hands and follows Jay.
Once again, my cousin isn’t wrong. I haven’t apologized to my father yet. As much as I don’t want to do this, I pull my phone from my back pocket and make the call. Within seconds of ending the call, a text demanding church went out to every member in Willow Creek.