Chapter 11 Jj
Jj
Harper has been brushing her hair for the last nineteen minutes.
I don’t think she’s aware she is still brushing it.
I know my old lady, so I know she’s zoned out and is trapped in her thoughts.
It's been a couple of days since she held up the bar and she has refused to speak to me about it. I look over my grazed knuckles and stretch the broken skin as I flex my hand into a fist. Every punch was worth it. The fucker should have kept his mouth shut. I'm aware old ladies are treated differently depending on the brother, but my old lady can do what she likes, even if it’s holding up the club at gun point when there’s a rat amongst us.
I might not like it or try to talk her out of it if I gain prior knowledge, but I wouldn’t stop her if something’s causing her worry and stress.
Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t think about it, but she’s suffering.
She's lost her mother and now her uncle.
To say I'm keeping a close eye on her is an understatement.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you were thinking holding up the bar?”
She blinks, once, then rapidly, and finally looks at me. “I was thinking someone in this club got my uncle killed and Leo wasn’t getting anywhere finding out who.”
“So you took it upon yourself to do something about it?”
Frowning, she asks, “Are you angry with me?”
I laugh. “I’m more than angry. I’d never tell you what to do, but tension is on a knife’s edge in the club right now, what do you think would’ve happened if someone had shot you, or you shot them?”
“But no one did,” she argues.
“Harper, don’t be so naive,” I mutter, adding, “You know better, especially when the club has been hit hard like this.”
Her face reddens and I prepare myself for her anger. “I know better?” she mimics. “What I do know is the only man I had growing up was taken from me, I'm never going to see him again, Gunner will never remember him, how great he is. All because someone wearing your patch needed money!”
Climbing off the bed, I step closer to her, but she rises from the chair and puts more distance between us. “I just need time to process,” she cries.
“Don’t shut me out, babe. Please.”
She sighs. “I’m not. I just need some time to myself. I can’t think when you’re hovering over me.”
“It’s my job, I am your husband,” I remind her.
“And I love you for it, but the only thing I need to get through the worst is time. I need quiet.”
“We’re living in a house with four kids, two of which are babies. If quiet is what you need, this ain’t the place.”
“Kids can’t help making noise.”
It’s a sucker punch but I hear her loud and clear.
“It’s me, I’m the problem.”
She sighs in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not about you!”
Losing patience, I tell her, “You weren’t the only one who lost him, two other brothers were killed and a prospect! We all lost them!”
I expect her anger to blow, but she laughs.
Which is worse. “You’ve never been able to understand how our lives were so different growing up.
Sparky was a dad you had around every day.
You could rely on him. You knew if you needed him, he’d be there.
I could only rely on Slade when my mom chose to bring us to town, or when I would call him and then had to wait till he rode out to wherever we were.
Do you know how many times I begged my mom to let us live with him.
He was the father to me I’d always wanted, and I wanted it everyday.
” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“You’ve lost brothers, but I’ve lost family.
Do you know that I’m now the oldest McCarthy blood wise.
It’s me and Zach and a couple of kids between us.
There won’t be any big family parties for us anymore. ”
Losing the fight, I go to step closer to her, but she backs off.
“Like I said, I just need time to get through this.”
She closes herself in the bathroom, thankfully not slamming the door, and I head over to the bar, grab a beer, and light a cigarette as I make myself comfortable. I should have stayed with her, but we would have gone around in circles until one of us said something we’d later regret.
I’m not alone long before Mason joins me and steals my pack of cigarettes, lighting one for himself.
“Where’s Leo?” I ask him.
“Saw him ride out about half an hour ago.”
“He didn’t say where he was going?”
“Not to me.” The prospect places a beer in front of Mason and fucks off again. Staring at the only prospect we have left, I realise I don’t know his name. I’m sure I would have heard it around but I’ve never taken an interest, nor with the one that recently burned to death.
“I heard a few of the brothers talking before they left.”
“Of course they were.” I sigh. “What were they saying?” I ask though I can already imagine.
“They think Leo is too impulsive, reckless. After the last few days, they’re losing trust in him.”
I drain my beer and suck hard on my cigarette. “Through the bad and the good, brothers should remember that.”
It would certainly be fucking easier if they did.
He nods, and asks, “You’re his VP, do you still trust him?”
My brows knit together as I glare at him. “The fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me and it’s a valid question.”
I answer without hesitation. “Of course I fuckin’ do.”
Raising my brow, I ask, “Do you?”
“My trust in him has never wavered. I’ve been waiting for him to make moves like this.”
The asshole is probably loving this, him and his brother. They are never happier than when the club is on violent terms.
“Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Not tonight. Leo's gonna wanna talk to everyone tomorrow, though. Be here early.”
“Cool. Freddie and Frankie ain’t sleeping at the moment so Aspen would rather me be home.”
I don’t blame him. I would rather deal with two crying babies than this shit at the moment.
“How’s Harper doing?” he asks.
“She’s dealing.”
Tapping the table, he takes his beer and calls it a night.
Now the chapters have gone home, I look around the empty bar.
A few club girls, bored, are sat around, and the prospect.
Zach will be with Kristen. Myles with Emma.
Mason just left. And Leo, who the fuck knows where.
Dad is at home. And Cas was heading for his bike a few hours ago.
I had heard Luca was in town, but I haven’t seen the asshole.
I hold my empty beer bottle up, signalling to the prospect for another and then dig my phone out.
I call Leo and it goes to his voicemail.
I put my phone down on the table and it starts ringing.
I don’t recognise the number but I answer and press it to my ear.
“Who’s this?”
“It’s the Sheriff.”
“What do you want?” I grunt.
“Just letting you know Cas Jackson is passed out at Josie’s. He needs picking up before he spends the rest of the night in my holding cell.”
“Don’t fuckin’ touch him. I'm on my way.”
Pushing up out of my seat, I meet the prospect halfway to the bar and ignore the beer he holds out for me. “If you see Leo, tell him I've gone into town to get his dad.”
“Will do.”
“And tell him to turn his fuckin’ phone on.”
I jog over to my bike and make a sharp turn and head for Shane’s truck instead. He always left the keys in the ignition. There's no chance of riding with Cas and making it home in one piece.
During the drive, I try to recall if I’ve ever seen Cas drunk before, and I can’t.
I’ve seen him with a beer thousands of times but never drunk.
Occasionally he would have a measure of whiskey, but most of the time, it was beer.
I call Luca as I approach town and get his voicemail after it rings out.
I try Leo one more time and still, I get his voicemail.
I swing the truck into the parking lot and shut the engine off.
Walking into Josie’s, it’s not difficult to track down Cas. He's slumped over at the bar with a deputy stood guard farther up the bar. His eyes narrow my way, and I refrain from rolling mine.
“You can fuck off now,” I tell him and not having to be told twice, he leaves.
“How many has he had?” I ask Josie.
“I lost track after he went through the bottle in an hour.”
Shit.
“Cas?” I say, shaking his shoulder.
“You won’t get any sense outta him tonight,” Josie tells me. “I’ve been trying to wake him for the last hour.”
Pulling him back so he’s sat up straight, he falls forward and I catch him before he face plants the bar top.
“Cas!” I repeat raising my voice. “You either wake your ass up, or you’re going over my shoulder like a bitch.”
There's nothing from him. This is the last thing I want to deal with tonight, but I’d never leave him here, alone and vulnerable.
I would have called dad to come deal with him, but he’s been buried in a tequila bottle since Slade was killed. He’d only make shit worse.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter rearranging the man I’ve known my whole life, and bend to throw him over my shoulder. Once I get him in place, Josie runs around the bar and opens the door for me. She jogs over to the truck and opens the passenger door.
“Thanks,” I grunt.
I throw him down on the seat and rearrange his legs so they’re in front of him so I can close the door.
“What the fuck?” he roars, and I step back in case he throws a punch.
“Calm down, it’s me. JJ. I came to take you home.”
Blinking, he looks around and relaxes back into the seat. “Where am I?”
I jerk my chin to Josie’s, and he sighs.
“My bike?”
He takes his pack of smokes out of his cut pocket, his movements heavy and slow.
“I’ll get the prospect to come pick it up once I get you home.” I start the truck and pull away from the bar. “It’s not like you to drink alone in town, let alone get wasted,” I point out.
He's quiet for so long, I glance over and check if he’s fallen asleep again.
“I’m not usually grieving my brother,” he finally mutters.
“True.” I hit the gas and push the speed once we’re out of town. “We’re going to take them all out, Hopper will get what’s owed.”
“Yeah,” is all he says.
He stares out of the window and passes out again by the time he makes it home. It takes an age to get him out of the truck and up onto his porch. Alannah must hear the commotion and opens the door. I manage to get him inside and drop him on the couch before I step back and sigh with relief.
“I can take over from here,” she tells me.
Over at Leo’s, the house is asleep and there’s no sign of my brother. I head up to the room Harper and I are sharing and undress. I slip into bed and pull my old lady against me. Her warmth sends a chill through me, and I kiss the back of her shoulder.
She stirs and I whisper, “I’m sorry I walked out earlier.”
“It’s okay. I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry it came between us.”
“What’s done is done, it’s over.”
But, it’s only just begun. None of us will breathe easier until every Hog is dead and buried far beneath the ground.