Chapter 39 #2
Not sure why Halo is Niro’s babysitter, but I step toward him. “My old lady, Maren, runs an airboat tour company. Get through tomorrow night, and I’ll ask her to take you out on one.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Niro says, throwing a fist pump.
The dock erupts into noise. Boots stomp, chairs scrape, bottles knock. Someone whoops, and laughter and chatter take over. A day like today is for catching up with friends we only usually see at the massive biker meet up in Sturgis each year.
The plans start to form fast, after that.
Halo coordinates with Vex back in Jersey to do an even deeper dive into Lock’s intelligence.
Jackal messages with Wren. He provides detailed maps and schematics of the docks and waterways around it.
Ridge takes point on routes and logistics, with help from Mallow.
Havoc and Saint work through the weapons details, discussing distribution and what vehicles beyond bikes are necessary to carry the artillery we’ve curated that will at least match Alvarez’s.
And Niro, well, he’s telling anyone who’ll listen that the first airboat was called the Ugly Duckling and was built by a team, including Alexander Graham Bell, the dude who invented the telephone. Which, who the fuck knows that shit?
Lock takes an ongoing barrage of abuse as bikers grill him on his relationship with the FBI agent.
“Make sure you text your girl thank you,” Ridge says.
“She’s not my—”
“Maybe send her flowers too,” North adds. “FBI chicks must love flowers, right?”
“Jesus Christ,” Lock mutters.
“Maybe I should call her,” Saint says, even though he barely knows Lock and has never met the girl. “I’m sure she’d take a character reference about you from me, a former FBI agent.”
Lock just walks behind the bar, grabs himself a massive glass of whiskey, and drinks the whole thing in one shot. “Fuck my life.”
But, somehow, Mallow manages to get Lock to admit that she’s his childhood best friend’s little sister.
By the time the plan is made, and the nominated member of each chapter has shared the information with their club brothers, it’s gone dark over the dock.
I look at the time on my phone. It’s midnight. And my thoughts have drunkenly shifted to going to bed without Maren in my arms.
It’s too late to change that.
And to be honest, given the club full of men, some of whom I don’t know all that well, I’m not sure how comfortable I would be with her walking around here either.
But I miss her deep in my fucking bones.
A loud and heavy bass rattles through the walls. The grill has been working overtime outside. And so have some of the club girls who are in and out of our guest quarters like they’ve got revolving doors. Laughter rises as bodies drift closer and closer.
Some of the married guys still party hard when they’re on a run. Some have open relationships; some are more don’t ask, don’t tell.
Some of the men have a moral code, keeping their dicks in their pants for their old ladies.
Once upon a time, I felt that was truly emasculated behavior.
But now, I can’t imagine dipping my cock in anyone else’s pussy.
How can I go from something as sacred as trying to create a life with Maren that involves making kids, then go shoot my load into a condom inside some pussy I don’t even care about?
And I realize just how unfulfilling the pre-Maren version of my life was.
“So, you and Maren Caldwell,” Jackal says in a tone that suggests he wants details.
Halo’s smile drops. “The daughter of the guy who…”
I nod. “Yeah. No one more surprised by that than I am.”
Halo strokes a hand through his beard. “And I thought the origins of some of our club relationships were fucked up. Not quite sure you beat King kidnapping Saint’s sister to keep him in line, but it’s up there.”
I look at the photograph of my brother on the wall of past members. “The irony is, Drew had this massive capacity for humor. In hindsight, I think he’d laugh about it. He wouldn’t have held Maren responsible for something her father did. I mean, she was about fifteen when it happened.”
Jackal chuckles. “How did I get sat at the dirty old bastard’s table?”
Shade raises an eyebrow at him, but it just makes Jackal laugh harder. I think there is at least ten years between the two of them, and I’ve no clue how old Isla is.
Halo grins. “There’s ten years between me and Ari. Is Maren ever your little?”
“My what?”
“You know. Little. Like, Daddy and little?”
I huff a laugh at that. “I can only imagine the look on Maren’s face if I tried to pull that shit with her. I like looking after her, but she constantly reminds me how she can look after herself.”
Halo stretches his legs out. “I got a theory about that.”
“This isn’t one of those incel bullshit ideas, is it?” Jackal asks.
He laughs. “Jesus. No. But I think women get the shitty end of the stick. Because they have all these amazing talents and shit, but when they’re on their own, they’re forced to change themselves to get shit done, which must be fucking exhausting some days.
So, when you meet a girl like that, they’ve become so used to doing it all on their own, it’s hard for them to let go and trust us.
Especially if every other man in their life has been a total douchebag. ”
Which is pretty much Maren. The schoolkids who bullied her. The teachers who didn’t support her. Her father. Even my club has generally not been kind. “Good insight, my friend.”
He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of Ari. It’s obviously a costume party, because Halo is dressed as some kind of video game warrior, and Ari is dressed in a cute babydoll dress that is so see-through, I almost feel like a voyeur.
“Ari’s ex abused her. Was scared of her own fucking shadow when we met.
But I gave her a safe place she could heal in.
Letting her regress to a time when she didn’t have any of the emotions she now carries.
Kink worked for us. Her being the little to my Daddy.
Someone might think I’m being sexist or some shit, but I honestly think my job as a man is to provide a life Ari feels safe in.
Where she knows she doesn’t need to worry about anything because I’ve got it but also knows I have faith in her that she can take care of everything herself. ”
Shade nods. “Sounds a lot like Isla. Not the Daddy and little thing. But the being used to doing it on your own. Wouldn’t let us help her with a thing on her house, even when she was struggling.”
“Sounds like Maren, to be fair,” I admit.
And talking about her makes me miss her even more.