Chapter One #2
I turned away, something hollow opening up in my chest. I’d forgotten what families looked like. Forgotten I used to want one of my own.
Tiny and Rancor returned to the truck, Tiny sliding behind the wheel while Rancor passed a plastic bag over the seat to me.
“Got you some water, a sandwich, chips,” he said. “Wasn’t sure what you’d want.”
I took the bag, not meeting his eyes. The scent of barbecue sauce wafted from the bag as I opened it. “Thanks.” The word came out rusty, unused.
I opened the water first, taking a quick pull before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite, nearly closing my eyes in bliss as rich barbecued pork exploded across my tongue. “Christ,” I muttered.
Rancor chuckled softly. “Yeah, man. I think I had basically the same reaction to my first good meal on the outside.”
“Ain’t sure that qualifies as a good meal,” Tiny muttered.
“A ham sandwich would be better than what we got in that place.” Rancor waved off Tiny’s words. I agreed with him.
“Still fuckin’ good.” I took another bite, fumbling with the napkin when I realized I probably looked like some kind of primitive who didn’t know how to eat in civilized company. One more thing to add to the list of things to get used to again.
Another hour and we entered the outskirts of Nashville. Tiny made a call and the sound came through the car radio.
“We got a room ready for him.” I’d recognize Knuckles’ voice anywhere. The man had literally saved my sanity the short time we’d been cellies. “He’s gonna want some time to himself to transition, but I don’t want him isolated.”
“You just assume he came with us,” Rancor said, shooting Tiny an amused grin. “Maybe he said fuck off.”
Knuckles barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he told you to fuck off. Just maybe not out loud. But yeah. I’m sure he came. I know my people, Rancor.”
“I came.” Not sure why I thought I had to speak up, but Knuckles only grunted.
“Of course you did. This is your home. Rat Man did you dirty.”
“Almost there, Prez,” Tiny said. “Ten minutes.”
“Good. I’ll meet you at the main warehouse.
” There was a pause. “Hannah made sure you’d have everything you need,” he continued.
“She talked to every fucking guy in the place, so she and the other women could give you as comfortable a place as they could. I know you’re not a man who’d want a fuss made or anything, but expect the old ladies to make sure you have plenty of home-cooked food in your fridge for when you’re hungry. ”
“I -- what?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, and I guess I’m not sure which surprises me more.”
Knuckles grunted again. “The fact that you have your own fridge, or the fact the girls bothered to stock it?”
“Both, I guess.”
“See you soon.” The call disconnected.
“Expect them to drop by often because our women can be mother hens.” Rancor continued the conversation as we turned onto a narrow, paved but crumbling road that cut between abandoned warehouses.
“They won’t let you suffer in silence, no matter how often you tell them to leave.
They don’t get their feelings hurt with big, surly bikers, but oddly, they usually know when to back off before they get irritating. It’s the weirdest fucking thing.”
That got a laugh from Tiny. “My two hellions haven’t figured out when to back off. Don’t expect they will either.”
“Oh, your girls know where the line is. They simply refuse to let a little thing like an imaginary line in the sand stop them.” Rancor’s grin said he enjoyed the show on more than one occasion.
I thought I might see irritation in Tiny’s expression, but instead I saw fondness and pride. Tiny loved whoever he was talking about. Likely loved the fact they didn’t stop when they should. The revelation settled something else inside me and my respect for the men grew a little more.
“Why?” I asked softly. “I feel like I’m bein’ set up or some shit. Most of you guys don’t know me, and the few who do know I ain’t a kind man.”
“Club takes care of its own,” Rancor said quietly. “Whether our own want it or not.”
Something twisted in my chest -- not pain exactly, but its close cousin.
Why would anyone prepare for me? I was nobody to these people.
The club had changed since I’d been a member.
I doubted anyone knew me from anywhere but Terre Haute.
Maybe not even then. The idea that someone had thought about what I might need, had taken time to prepare for my arrival didn’t compute with the world as I understood it.
“Don’t need special treatment,” I managed, voice rough.
Tiny chuckled, a deep, low rumble. “Ain’t special, brother. It’s baseline. You’ll see.”
The Kiss of Death compound emerged from the industrial wasteland like a fortress.
Which was exactly what it was. Camo netting stretched between warehouses arranged in a defensive square, breaking up sight lines and confusing surveillance.
I counted four visible cameras covering the entrance alone, probably a dozen more I couldn’t see.
Smart setup. Defensible. And it was designed to keep people out. Not to hold them inside.
Tiny slowed at a reinforced gate. A guard in a booth nodded recognition, and the gate slid open. We rolled through to a big warehouse well away from the entrance to the compound.
Knuckles stood waiting at the inner entrance, arms crossed over his chest. He was built solid, heavily muscled but leaner and shorter than Tiny.
Tiny parked the truck in front of the warehouse, cutting the engine. I stepped out of the cage, feet planted firmly on the gravel. The air smelled of motor oil, leather, and something delicious cooking.
“Good to see you breathing free air,” Knuckles said, extending his hand.
I took his hand, the handshake brief but firm.
His eyes held mine, assessing but not demanding.
He didn’t try to establish dominance through the handshake, didn’t pump my arm or crush my fingers.
Just a simple acknowledgment between equals which surprised me.
Even if I were technically still part of Kiss of Death, Knuckles, as the president, outranked me significantly.
“Appreciate the welcome,” I said, the words coming easier than I expected.
Knuckles nodded, seeming to understand all I wasn’t saying. “Let’s get you settled.”
He led the way through the compound, Tiny and Rancor falling in behind us. A few club members moved about their business. They looked up as we passed, nodding respectfully but didn’t approach.
“Bottom floors of the outer buildings are club business,” Knuckles explained, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Upper floors are apartments for patched members. Inner buildings are all living quarters.
“Hannah, my woman, assigned you a unit in the east building, second floor,” Knuckles continued. “Quieter side of the compound.”
Knuckles stopped at a door at the corner of the back side of the building. He handed me a keycard. “Room’s yours as long as you want to stay. Old ladies will make sure you’re stocked. Don’t ask them to do your laundry. They will shank you.”
That got a bark of laughter out of me when I hadn’t expected to feel like smiling so soon. “I appreciate the place to crash.”
“No thanks necessary.”
The apartment was simple but far larger than any space I’d occupied in nearly four decades. A main room with a couch and coffee table. Small kitchen area with actual appliances. A window overlooking the compound below.
“Basics are all here,” Knuckles said, remaining by the door.
Giving me room. “The girls brought linens and shit, so you’ve got bedding and towels.
There’s probably a box of toiletries in the bathroom.
” He motioned to a set of doors next to each other on one end of the room.
“Bedroom and bathroom.” He pointed in the other direction.
“Spare room for whatever the fuck you want to do with it.”
I moved farther into the space, checking the place out. Clean surfaces. No dust. The faint scent of something lemon. Someone had prepared this place recently, anticipating my arrival. The thought was unsettling in its kindness.
“Bathroom’s got everything you need,” Knuckles continued.
“Hot water takes about thirty seconds to kick in. Pressure’s good and the shower is large.
There’s also a bathtub. Anything else you need, just say the word.
” He paused, watching me carefully. “When the old ladies come by to bring you more food, let them in, please.”
My head snapped up, surprised by his insight. I’d been calculating how long I could go without opening that door, how to minimize contact until I’d found my bearings.
Knuckles gave me a knowing look. “They mean well. And trust me, you don’t want to be on their bad side.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips again before I could suppress it. “Noted.”
“I’ll leave you to get settled,” Knuckles said, stepping back into the hallway.
“Club meeting tomorrow at noon if you want to join. No pressure. Just know you’re welcome.
When or if you’re ready to take an active role in the club, we would all welcome you to find your place with us.
” He gave me another grin. “Welcome home, brother.”
He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and I was alone.
Truly alone for the first time in years outside of AdSeg -- what most people call solitary confinement, or Administrative Segregation.
Whatever you call it, AdSeg was the only time I didn’t have a cellmate breathing in the bunk below.
No guards passing by at regular intervals.
No constant background noise of men living in forced proximity.
Just silence.
I stood motionless in the center of the room. The space felt impossibly large after my cell, the silence deafening after years of constant noise.
I moved to the window, drawn by the natural light. Below, club members moved about their business. Two men working on a Harley. A woman carrying what looked like groceries toward another building. Normal life continuing in its rhythm.
My reflection stared back at me from the glass, superimposed over the scene below.
A man caught between worlds, belonging to neither.
The prison had released my body but kept pieces of my soul.
The club had offered shelter but couldn’t give me back what I’d lost to them before.
I thought I should move on, put this chapter of my life behind me, but the thought made my insides twist. Knuckles was right.
Though the compound had moved location, the spirit of the club I’d first joined was within this fenced-off land.
I could feel the energy all around me and it felt like home.
I placed my palm against the cool glass, watching my breath fog a small circle. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the compound. The stranger in the glass looked back at me, equally lost in a world he no longer understood.