Chapter Forty-One – Easton
Every time his hospital room door opened, Easton expected Cleaner to walk in and finish him off, so when that fuckhead did saunter in, Easton was relieved the suspense was finally over. Cleaner could fucking kill him and get it over with.
Instead, the asshole sat in the chair in Easton’s room and smirked. Before Easton told him to either fucking kill him or get the fuck out, Bash walked in.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Easton said, too shocked to ask anything else.
“Good to see you too, boy,” Bash said dryly.
“I don’t mean that, Bash,” Easton said. “This is Dweller territory. They will shoot the fuck out of you.”
Cleaner clasped his hands in front of him. “Tried to tell him that Outlaw’s invitation was probably a set-up.”
Bash tsked and shook his head at Cleaner. “Ye of little faith, fuckhead.”
“I’m just looking out for you, Bash,” Cleaner said.
“Look out for me outside this fucking room.” Bash nodded to the door. “Get the fuck out. I need to talk to my kid.”
Glowering at Easton, Cleaner stood and stalked out.
“That sent a bee up his asshole.” Snickering, Bash took the seat Cleaner vacated. “How are you, Eastie?”
Bash and his fucking nicknames.
Easton let it go and shrugged. “Still in a lot of pain.”
“And up here?” Bash tapped his temple. “Straightened shit out in your fucking head?”
“If you mean me sleeping with Molly, I’ve had other shit on my mind. Like healing. When I’m better, I’m sure—”
“You’ll let that shit go. You achieved what the fuck you set out to do. She’s free,” he said, sing-song. “She’s back in Dweller hands.”
Easton hadn’t known that. No one would tell him. This was the first day they’d really scaled back on his pain meds, even though they’d forced him out of bed the day after he awakened. “I’m glad. I can die happy.”
Leaning forward, Bash rested his elbows on his knees. “Who the fuck shot you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Think long and fucking hard before you fucking lie to me, boy.”
Telling the truth wasn’t a fucking option.
If Cleaner escaped Bash’s wrath, that motherfucker would hunt Easton for exposing him.
Cleaner’s friends at the clubhouse would torture Easton.
On the other hand, Wally, Jr. only had his sons in his corner.
It was better to take on three, rather than half the fucking club.
“Wally, Jr.”
Bash stared at him, then a small smile tipped his lips. “Same fucking thing Cleaner said. Just wanted you to confirm it.”
Easton cleared his throat. “Glad I could be of help.”
“Don’t really believe either of you motherfuckers, but I’m a fair man and Cleaner’s family.
Daddy took him when he was eight and I was twenty.
I won’t just fuck him up unless I got a reason.
Daddy thought of him as another son, so that would be a betrayal if I shot the fuck out of him on suspicion alone. ”
Not knowing how to respond, Easton remained silent.
When the jingle of spurs reached his ears, he realized Bash wasn’t wearing any. A moment later, Outlaw walked in, followed by Diesel and a handsome, well-dressed man that Easton didn’t recognize.
Panic flashed across Bash’s face, but he pasted a smile on his face and stood.
“I’m touched that you brought a little crowd to visit my kid, brother,” he said.
Had Bash snorted coke? He’d just fucking admitted—
“Ain’t rippin’ your fuckin’ head off, Easton,” Outlaw snapped. “You look fuckin’ sick cuz you know you fuckin’ played me.”
“I can explain—”
Bash smacked his head. “Don’t offer explanations to a motherfucker, especially if he didn’t fucking ask for it, fuckhead.”
“I know, but—”
“Ain’t nothin’ a fuckin’ explanation’ll do except piss me the fuck off, so I suggest you listen to your old man and snap your trap the fuck up.”
Trap duly snapped.
“This is Cox.” Outlaw nodded to the man who’d been standing next to Diesel. “Hospital staff and a liaison between the Dwellers and the hospital suits.”
“No shit?” Bash sounded truly awed.
Outlaw ignored him and looked at Cox. “This my brother and my nephew. Easton need a room on our wing. Close to the fuckin’ door.
That motherfucker outside? Cleaner—Roddie Banks—ain’t fuckin’ allowed back there.
Bash can see Easton but he can’t walk the fuckin’ wing.
You listen to fuckin’ Johnnie, ignore any of my fuckin’ rules, and Diesel fuckin’ you up.
If you want a gruesome death, fuckin’ test me. ”
The man shook his head. “My father just lost Gypsy. I don’t want him to suffer a double loss.”
“Good. Now, get the fuck. I’m leavin’ in twenty or thirty minutes. I expect orderlies outside this fuckin’ door in ten.”
Easton watched as the motherfucker almost ran into the fucking door, trying to rush to do Outlaw’s bidding.
“You called me your brother,” Bash said.
“Ain’t you?” Outlaw asked irritably.
“Never thought you’d acknowledge me.”
“Me neither, so shut the fuck up.”
He nodded to Diesel and for the first time, Easton noticed the briefcase. He set it on the rolling table. Easton couldn’t deny his moment of unease, wondering if Diesel was about to blow him away.
“Bash think you in danger if you remain a Scorpion,” Outlaw said. “You want to be a Dweller for real?”
If Easton showed his hope that Outlaw wasn’t bullshitting him, he’d offend the fuck out of Bash, so he shrugged, ready to do a fucking happy dance.
“Diesel your fuckin’ sponsor.”
Or, maybe, weep in fucking fear.
“I thought Johnnie—”
“You thought fucking wrong,” Diesel said flatly, and handed Bash a piece of paper. “If you have any contact with this motherfucker and you ask him anything about the Dwellers, I will personally kill him. I still haven’t perfected scalping.”
“What’s the paper for?” Bash pushed out.
“You sign the agreement that Easton’s only your son, on the threat of his gruesome death, and not your spy and definitely not a Scorpion.” Smiling, Diesel grabbed a pen from the briefcase and held it out to Bash. “Sign on the dotted line.”
Instead of taking the pen, he looked at Outlaw. “I don’t want him killed. I want him safe.”
Why that touched Easton, he wasn’t sure, but it was the first time Bash had ever expressed that type of concern.
“He ain’t dyin’, Bash,” Outlaw said. “As long as he on the up and up, I ain’t lettin’ Diesel kill him, but I trust Johnnie less than I trust your kid. It’s either Diesel or he ain’t gettin’ a fuckin’ sponsor.”
“Fuck.” Bash snatched the pen and scribbled his name. “There.”
Diesel smirked at Easton, his gray eyes promising pain. “Now, you.”
“What about me?”
“Sign. A private oath of allegiance.”
“To you?”
“To Outlaw. I don’t give a fuck what happens to you. You fuck over him, he reserves the right to decide how I kill you.”
Outlaw was much fairer than Cleaner and, in many instances, Bash. Diesel also respected the fuck out of him, so he’d rein that motherfucker in. Easton signed the oath, praying he wouldn’t regret that decision.
“We’re gonna have a formal meeting between our clubs, Bash. In the next month or so. We got to set it up.” Outlaw nodded to Diesel again. “Right now, I want to sign a preliminary agreement. You can have your club attorney read it first.”
Easton knew Bash had let their legal team go several years ago because of financial constraints, but he nodded.
“Kendall our new lead attorney,” Outlaw continued. “She drafted this. I think it’s fair—”
Bash signed. “If Kendall drafted it, then I know it’s fair.”
Outlaw smiled, then pinned his intense green gaze on Easton. “You got a finance degree?”
Easton nodded.
“Don’t offer my wife no fuckin’ advice or your fuckin’ services. Even if she fuckin’ ask. Underfuckinstand me?”
“Meggie—”
“Off limits to you. That’s the only fuckin’ time I’m repeatin’ that. You came to fuck her. You lucky I ain’t fuckin’ you up.”
He was right, so Easton nodded curtly. “Fine. Can I at least talk to her?”
“If you compliment her, ask her advice, tell her your life story, or ask for water–any fuckin’ drink–I’m cuttin’ your fuckin’ tongue out and lettin’ you bleed to death.”
“Is ‘hello’ okay with you?”
Outlaw frowned. “If you don’t greet my wife, Ima fuck you up. That’s fuckin’ disrespect.”
“Greet Meggie. Noted,” Easton said blandly.
“Look, motherfucker, if you ain’t usin’ your fuckin’ brain, you ain’t needin’ that motherfucker.
Greet Megan, Kendall, Zoann, Bunny, Ophelia, and Roxanne.
” Outlaw glared at Easton. “I suppose they your fuckin’ aunts and I expect you to respect them.
Except Roxanne. She like the grandma or some shit.
Ask Megan…fuck, don’t ask her nothin’. That requires too much fuckin’ interaction.
Now, if Celia there, greet her. Sometimes, Doc Will and Georgie Mason there. Greet them too.”
“You really are about family, aren’t you?” Bash asked.
“And my fuckin’ club, Bash. This not the outcome I expected. I thought I could kill you.”
Outlaw almost sounded disappointed.
Bash hooted with laughter.
“Shit change, assfuck. Instead of rippin’ you the fuck to pieces, I’m welcomin’ you and Easton to the fuckin’ family.” Outlaw looked at Easton again. “I might have a position open for you. I ain’t too sure yet. I gotta fuckin’ see how trustworthy you are.”
“What position do you have in mind for Easton?” Bash asked.
“Runnin’ Ridge Moore.”
Outlaw’s answer shocked the fuck out of Bash and Easton.
“Diesel had to fuck up the last principal cuz he was a motherfucker. I ain’t too fuckin’ sure where the fuck to put your fuckin’ ass so you’d get in on the family side of shit and not just the club side.”
“Is there a difference?” Easton asked.
“With Megan and her numbers,” Outlaw said. “Her tradin’ or whatever the fuck she does.”
“I’m family,” Bash inserted.
Outlaw ignored him. “It’s the administrative side of things, Easton. Unfortunately, you got to know how to handle kids. Unless I kill Johnnie, then you can head my pharmaceutical company if I approve of you.”
“Do these positions come with a salary?” Easton asked.
“No, fuckhead, Ima expect you to work for fuckin’ free,” Outlaw spat, briming with hostility. “What the fuck you think?”
“How much?” Easton wanted to know.
Outlaw and Diesel frowned at each other, then shrugged, throwing numbers back and forth.
“I think Marvey was gettin’ one hundred fifty Gs,” Outlaw announced. “Don’t fuckin’ quote me. It might’ve been two fifty.”
“Between twelve and twenty grand a month?” Easton managed, forgetting his pain, his reservations, and everything. He’d never earned that type of money in his fucking life.
“About that,” Outlaw said casually. “Marvey forgot who the fuck was payin’ him. Johnnie worked out the deals, but me or Megan also signed the fuckin’ paychecks. If I give you that position, don’t fuckin’ forget that.”
“I won’t. And you know you can pay electronically.”
“I know,” Outlaw grumbled, then looked at Diesel. “Ready, boy?”
“Wait, I have a question. Does the agreement include our clubs working together?” Bash decided to ask, too fucking late, but Easton kept that to himself.
“You should’ve read that motherfucker before you fuckin’ signed it, assfuck,” Outlaw snapped.
“I trust Kendall.”
“It ain’t misplaced, but you still should’ve read that motherfucker. She put in everything you and her talked about. If you willin’, I can give the Scorpions a fuckin’ job by Monday.”
“What might that be?”
“Runnin’ a shipment of guns south.”
“Drugs are more lucrative.”
“They could be if I fuckin’ trusted you wouldn’t fuck with the merchandise, so shut the fuck up.”
“Suppose I get into rehab?”
“Then I’d think about it. No fuckin’ guarantees unless you stay fuckin’ clean, but then again I ain’t thought this was fuckin’ possible.”
Bash smiled.
Outlaw nodded to Diesel, who withdrew an envelope and held it out to Bash.
“Use that motherfucker wisely, Bash. You get one fuckin’ check a month as the son of a foundin’ member and one fuckin’ check a month when you start doin’ jobs for us.
No more,” Outlaw warned. “Share it with who the fuck ever. Spend it. Put it back into the club. I ain’t givin’ a good fuck.
Megan gonna send you and Celia a cut for this quarter for her shit in a week.
She just gotta get you two set the fuck up.
I just handed you a fuckin’ mint and my wife sendin’ you another one.
Use it fuckin’ wisely.” He swept Bash with a look, then signaled Diesel and sauntered out.