Prologue Part II #2
Not just that, this might split the club. The Shaws are family folk. They’ll choose Tylee over me and where does that leave me and the kids? They’re more important to me than anyone or anything. More important than any revenge.
I want to hold them again. Max, Kyler, and Aimee. I miss each of them in a different way. I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to make this work with Tylee, but when they grow up, my kids will know that I fought hard for them and did everything that I could to keep them safe and happy.
Each time Tylee and I brought another kid into the world, I had plenty of questions, believe me.
I knew that she always took a few months off after giving birth when she was just too burnt out to do anything other than watch Real Housewives all day and give bottles.
Anna explained to me that it was post-partum depression, which I could understand just fine.
I couldn’t understand why she nearly scratched my eyes out and called me a bad father when I questioned her going to the bar on Max’s birthday. I shouldn’t be surprised when Wyatt takes me aside after everything with just Hunter, so I know it’s serious, and he tells me what they suspect.
“We didn’t want to reveal this publicly,” Hunter says. “But I did my own independent research after what Tamiya said… and…”
Wyatt is far too impatient to let Hunter ease me into the bad news.
“Tylee might be stepping out on you with some biker in St. Louis. We don’t know his club affiliation or anything like that.”
Hunter gives Wyatt a look that suggests “I’ll handle it”.
They might not share blood, but Hunter and Wyatt are just as much brothers as Hunter and his identical twin, Ryder are.
They can be eerily aware of each other’s thoughts without saying much.
I wouldn’t feel uneasy with it if this weren’t already such heavy, unpleasant news.
She ran off with my kids and for all I know they’re holed up in some motel with her and some pedophile biker bastard.
My chest hurts. It takes everything to hold back a violent outburst or an impulsive escape on the back of my bike to spray bullets through every biker club I can find between here and Chicago.
“We’re looking into him,” Hunter offers reassuringly. “Her having help would explain a lot, and it might mean that she’ll want to… put the kids somewhere safe.”
Like where? Everybody in this room knows that Deborah Hollingsworth Shaw remains fiercely loyal to the Rebel Barbarians, especially since her son Wyatt took the reins from Harlan Shaw as the club president a few years ago.
Her and Tylee are pretty close, but she would put the kids and the club over her daughter’s schemes any day of the week.
Most of their fights end up being about Deb taking either Wyatt or Ethan’s side too much.
“I don’t understand how she hasn’t turned up yet.”
“If she has a gang of bikers covering for her, it adds up,” Hunter says.
“Do you seriously think your sister brought my children into a den of criminal bikers?” I growl, my teeth clenching.
It’s one thing for me to bring my children near Barbarian headquarters, which I’ve never been stupid enough to do in the first place, but at least I could protect them.
Tylee might think she’s all-fucking-powerful, but if any of our enemies find out that they could use our children as leverage…
“He doesn’t look so good,” Wyatt says. “Listen. Isaac. I promise, I won’t let my sister hurt my nephews or my niece. They’re babies. Our families babies. I promise.”
“What if they’re already gone?”
I can only muster up the courage to express my deepest fears out loud because enough liquor runs through my body to destroy every sensible urge I have to bury these horrific thoughts of my own children. Dead.
“Get him some whiskey,” Hunter says. “Knock those worries right out of him.”
Wyatt nods, patting all the pockets of his cut until he turns up a white flask that doesn’t look all used up and grease-stained.
“Haven’t cracked into this one yet,” he says. “Spiced Hollingsworth bourbon.”
I wouldn’t care if it was rubbing alcohol at this point.
The ruse Wyatt and Hunter used to steal us some alone time comes to a close and the rest of the men return with enough fuel for us to have a basement rager that lasts well into the morning.
“If Anna knew I was doing this, she wouldn’t like it,” Wyatt says. “But… anybody up for a hand of poker? No real gambling.”
“It’s less fun without real gambling,” Ryder says. “But I understand.”
I’m too drunk to protest and I want to get even more drunk. None of this is good news, especially not the news of Tylee having an affair with some biker.
Winning a hand of poker could really boost my spirits. “I’m in.”
“Let’s do it then,” Hunter says. “But if you fall off the wagon, I’m telling Anna it was your fault.”
“I’ll be fine,” Wyatt says. “We have plenty of bullshit ahead. We’ll be better off getting drunk and blowing off steam now while we can.”
It’s hard logic to argue with, especially with this much alcohol in my bloodstream.
“Let’s fucking go. Woo!” I cheer drunkenly and let the night take my worries as everything fades to black.
13 Days After Zebulon’s Wedding
Missouri
Wyatt drags my ass to his dining room table at eight in the morning with a stiff announcement.
“We got her.”
He means Tylee. But judging by the look on his face, this isn’t all good news.
It could be the fact that he’s been up all night, but Wyatt doesn’t look happy at all.
His beard is overgrown and looks like he hasn’t groomed in a while.
The baseball cap on his head smells from where I’m sitting, and there are deep dark bags beneath his eyes.
No sign of Owen, which means he’s probably holding Tylee prisoner. They don’t get along as well as Wyatt and Tylee used to.
“Are my kids okay?”
“According to Oske, they’re safe.”
“I want to see them.”
I stand up, but Wyatt gestures back to the chair.
“Sit. They’re not here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Oske and Brinley are doing their best.”
“Brinley? What the fuck does she have to do with this?” I haven’t heard that name in a while. She’s one of the Shaw girls who manages whichever gas station needs her the most along the highway. The only reason she’s not more trouble than Tylee is because she swings for the other team.
“She’s helping us, thanks to Oske.”
“What the fuck?”
“None of our business,” Wyatt says. “I got Tylee to agree to some mediation. Owen will bring her to the club house and I’m supposed to bring you to the club house. We talk with Oske and Brinley as mediators. Apparently.”
“I see. That explains a lot.”
“Yes. Oske has her hand in some trouble. But she’s on our side.”
Wyatt sounds confident, but I can’t trust the fate of my children’s lives to Oske without more information.
“Meaning?”
“She’s pissed that Tylee took your kids. She’s doing a good job of playing both sides, but this will go our way as long as you’re willing to take a little bullying.”
I can believe that there’s some type of moral thing going on there.
Oske might not have children of her own, but it’s a real thing that Indians are more spiritual and family-oriented.
I put up with Oske’s bullying for free. I don’t have any room to argue anymore.
Tylee’s holding our kids hostage and they need to know no matter what happens that I fought for them.
“I don’t care what I have to do as long as I can see my kids before the end of the week.”
“We just have to hope that Tylee doesn’t up the ante.”
“Meaning?”
Wyatt shrugs. “I don’t know who exactly has your kids, and that troubles me, Isaac. I can’t lie to you.”
“I’m not fucking thrilled about it either.”
“Who do you think she would trust?”
“Is it Selma?”
“No,” Wyatt says pensively, “I checked. I don’t mean to piss you off but… Could be someone she’s sleeping with.”
My throat tightens and a deep instinctive knowing rises in my gut. I quickly suppress the feeling, because I have no proof. She’s pissed at me because I want a divorce over the Damara thing. But she hasn’t been having an affair recently…
She changed.
“She’s not sleeping with anyone else.”
“Are you sure?” Wyatt asks gently. He rolls that stupid pair of green dice over the tops of his knuckles.
He knows something. Hot shame burns my face that I try not to let show.
It’s bad enough that Tylee cheats, she can’t even keep it a secret.
I stayed with her so our kids wouldn’t come from a broken home but all she ever does is throw shit my way.
This time I’ve had it. But I don’t have a good answer to Wyatt’s question.
“No. I’m not sure.”
“I’ve been wondering if it has something to do with the folks who attacked Zeb and Janelle.”
“Where did you folks land on that?”
I’ve been too preoccupied with my own shit to worry much about Zeb’s problems. He was an Army Ranger – he can handle himself.
“Those guys might still be a problem,” Wyatt explains.
“Bunch of guys, former disgraced DHS and cops… People like that. The only thing is, what are their motives? Do they want some kind of revenge on the people who kicked them out or are they still after immigrants? Black people. That kind of thing.”
“Fuck if I know.”
Neither Wyatt’s expression nor posture have eased even slightly. There’s more he has to say about this and his poker face is as good as ever even without practice because I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Tylee might be sleeping with one of them.”
“One of who?”
Bikers? Immigrants? Cops?
I meet Wyatt’s gaze, even if I wish I didn’t have to. But if he’s going to tell me that his sister, and my wife, is sleeping with another man, I want to look him directly in the eye and believe that it’s the truth.
“Biker. Guy who goes by the name of Gore.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“He’s the right hand to whoever the leader is but… Tamiya and Gideon haven’t turned up anything yet.”