Chapter 12
Damien
The Next Day
The bike rumbles beneath me as I cruise down the street, and the afternoon sun beats down on my bare arms. The streets are finally starting to fill out with people walking down the sidewalks and going shopping at the local stores again.
It’s all beginning to go back to normal.
At least, what the citizens deem as normal.
While they’re all trying to move past a single tragedy, I’m trying to navigate through months’ worth, and I find myself looking at each person as a potential threat—even when I shouldn’t.
The few hours of therapy this morning actually has me feeling a little lighter, and even though I’ll be sore as hell the next few days, it’s worth it.
After our big blow-up last night, things really started to come into focus for me.
She needs me more than ever, and she needs me in my right mind.
I can’t keep allowing myself to slip into whatever these short dazes are, and while this morning may not have actually been labeled as ‘therapy,’ it’s as close as I can get for now, and if anything, it only further proves my devotion to her.
I thought about stopping by to see Ashia at the barber shop before I came out this way, but the appointment took longer than expected, and the last thing we need is the MC getting even angrier with us.
Zeke is with her again, and even though I know he’s not exactly in his right mind either, I know in my fucked-up head that she’s okay.
It always makes me feel better to see it for myself, though.
The other option is to have her permanently attached to my hip, but something tells me she wouldn’t be to happy if I made that happen.
And that would only make me look crazier, wouldn’t it?
That thought really pisses me off. Satori sure had a lot to say last night.
In the explosive fight outside of the conference room, he made sure to paint me as every bit of insane as he could to my men.
He called me unstable and said it was clear after the mission that I wasn’t capable of making sound decisions.
I wasn’t even mad at Zeke when I heard that he delivered a precise hit to the bridge of his nose, and I still wasn’t angry when I heard he hit him again for good measure.
As much as I would’ve loved to see that, it was imperative that I shielded Ashia from the things he was saying.
It would only upset her further if she heard his accusations.
It’s one thing to insult me or claim that I’m insane—I mean, I am—but it’s a whole other thing to trouble my wife with words like that.
He got one thing wrong, though. I sure as fuck am not a danger to my men.
Or to my wife. Out of all of the hateful shit that came flying out of his mouth, that’s what got to me the most. Have I been a little reckless with my own life?
Absolutely, but with my men? Ashia? Never.
Just when I thought things were starting to turn around with this partnership, he said exactly how he truly felt, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to work alongside one another again.
Davidson’s Bar and Billiards comes into view, and the rows of motorcycles cast a harsh glare.
Any normal person might take that light as a good sign.
‘The sun is shining’ and all of that shit, but all I feel is reluctance.
I know this is necessary. It won’t take many more of these meetings, and hopefully soon, we can get back to a friendly truce, but hanging out with Grease is not on my want-to-do list.
As I pull into the bar parking lot, all eyes turn to me.
This is my third meeting with the Chaos and Mayhem Motorcycle Club since I helped them retrieve one of their women, and thankfully, things are starting to settle down.
Tensions were high for a while, and while Grease, who is their President, has a done a good job of keeping the peace, I can tell most of them are still on edge.
I mean, rightfully so. Their VP was shot twice, once by me, and the MC thought it was Dust that took his wife in the first place.
Which was my fault somehow. Now that we know that's not exactly true, it's made reconciliation a little easier.
Grease and I have had some good talks, and a few of his chairmen have even started to join in.
But by the look on their faces right now? Today is about to be very different.
Without hesitation, I pull into the first spot available and put the bike in park. Some of the club members standing outside have stern faces, like I don’t have any business being on their property, but the others have more of a worried look.
I slide my helmet off, about to ask them what the issue is, when Viking bursts out of the front door with his gun drawn.
He’s the dumbass that intentionally put my wife in the line of fire, and he’ll always have a special place on my shit-list. My already-paranoid mindset switches to full throttle, and I reach for my own pistol as Grease emerges—looking just as pissed off.
“Vike! What the fuck did I say?” Grease yells and grabs Viking’s shoulder to jerk him back just before he can raise his gun. I pause with my hand on my own and try to gauge how this is going to go. “?Ya hemos pasado por esto!”
Viking whips around and shoves his face into Grease’s. They stand only a few inches apart, and even though Grease is about a head shorter than Viking’s monstrous form, he doesn’t back down.
“He fucking shot me!” Viking yells.
“So did I! You forced his wife into a gun fight! You fucking deserved it! If you still want a place in this club, you'll fucking listen!” Grease yells back, and Viking’s face only seems to get angrier. His jaw is clenched, and while I can’t see his entire face, his eyes are clearly narrowed.
As they stare each other down, I take a look around to see the rest of their members on the same edge as us.
They all seem tense and ready to fight, but instead of looking either at me or at their two heads, they’re staring at each other.
It’s obvious that some of them side with Grease, but unfortunately, others side with Viking.
Viking then looks around, and once he meets eyes with all of his men, he turns back to face me. The defeat in his eyes is clear, but I can also see that this isn't over. There’s a maliciousness there that tells me we’re going to continue having problems, even though the show is over for today.
“Come on, D. Let's talk.” Grease jerks his head towards the door, and I don't waste time hesitating.
This isn't my shit show, and I just need to make sure that we don't end up in some kind of turf war.
I slip past Viking, and lock eyes with him until I pass through the door—silently telling him I won't back down either.
The atmosphere is more tense than the last time I was here, and the rest of the club is clearly turning towards Viking’s side of things. There wasn’t this level of hostility before. While I may think he's a dumbass, the club clearly respects him. So, I need to tread this carefully.
“I tried to call and warn you about his tantrum before you got here, but it went straight to voicemail.” Grease throws over his shoulder.
I pull my phone from my pocket to check, and there’s no missed call. My messages and notification are obviously refreshing fine because I received one from Ashia just a few minutes ago. So, at least the phone is working like it should.
“Huh, I didn’t get it. Must have been driving through a dead spot.”
Grease just shrugs in response as I follow him through the bar and down the hall to his office. It’s not full of angry bikers this time, thankfully, but the atmosphere still lingers with hard decisions and heightened emotions. I don't miss Grease’s heavy sigh as he closes the door behind us.
“Tough day?” I ask.
“That's an understatement,” he replies with a tired tone and makes his way to the desk. I sit down in the chair in front of it, noticing his stressed posture as he sits behind the wooden top. His hands run down his face, and I’m shocked he’s showing this type of distress in front of me.
“Is Viking causing more trouble?” I know his aggravation isn’t at me, and as the head of a complicated organization, I understand his struggles. It’s not the exact same, of course. But being responsible for dozens of men that fight each other as much as the enemy? It’s hard to deal with.
“He wasn't until he heard you were coming. I thought he was past this, but he's back to being a crazy fuck today.”
“Yeah, he’s a little unhinged, that one,” I say in a smartass tone and try to lighten the mood. Grease looks up at me with an eyebrow raised, like that was the weirdest thing I’ve ever said.
“You’re one to talk.”
I chuckle lightly.
“Exactly. It’s from experience.” That actually makes Grease smirk and shake his head.
Despite the heavy situation I’ve found myself in, it’s nice to know that Grease and I are still on good terms. “Seriously, though. Is that going to be a problem?” I nudge my head back towards the door and imply Viking’s pull within the club. Grease just shakes his head again.
“I think after today, things will calm back down. He’s only been back a couple of days, and he’s been dealing with a lot between recovering and dealing with Maria.”
“How is she doing?” I ask genuinely. By the time we saved her, Maria was gone almost a full twenty-four hours, and it’s hard to know for sure what she went through in that time.
She was a little bruised and banged up when we found her, but she definitely had some resolve.
So, I’ve imagined that she held it together pretty well since then.
“She’s alright. Maria is one tough woman. It was a little rough there at first, but she’s okay. Thanks to you.” He gestures towards me with his hand, and I just nod back. “How’s Ashia?”