Chapter One
Present Day
Jolting sideways, I barely catch myself from tumbling onto the floor. Damn, my head is pounding. It feels like a goddamn Mack Truck plowed right through the back of it. The sour feeling in my stomach isn’t helping much, either.
I freeze when I realize this isn’t my bed. Fuck! Where the hell am I?
Holding my breath, I listen for any clue of where I might have landed last night and completely deflate when I hear Bones. The sound of my dog snoring is music to my ears.
Thank fuck!
Admittedly, in the last year, I’ve woken up in some sketchy places. Usually, with no recollection of how I got there. Grief, even masked by alcohol, is a fickle bitch. She sucks you in when you want nothing more than to tell her to get gone and stay there.
My life was supposed to be different right now, but I fucked up. I fucked around and got a stripper pregnant, and I didn’t even know until it was too late.
There are rules we adhere to in this life. We have an unspoken code that we follow, a standard we use to hold ourselves accountable. For instance, we don’t target women and children. They’re off limits, not to mention it’s just a pussy thing to do.
A year ago, Pinball, the Cuban Kings’ former president, proved just how much of a pussy he was when he broke that code. He did the unthinkable by brutally attacking Tempy to hurt the club. She and our unborn child didn’t survive.
Needless to say, I haven’t handled any of it well. As usual, I turn to my old friend Jack as an escape.
I feel the darkness seeping in around me but am given a reprieve when someone slams my front door open. That reprieve is short-lived when Viper starts shouting in the kitchen.
“This place is a fucking mess!” I just know that when I pry my eyes open, I’ll be met with Viper’s anger. Not something I’m looking forward to. I wonder if I play possum long enough if he’ll just leave? We’ve been doing this same song and dance for a year, and I know he’s sick of it.
“What do you want?” Groaning, I open my eyes and heft myself into a seated position. I get a dose of vertigo for my troubles when the room starts to spin. When I chance a look at Viper, he’s scowling in disapproval.
What the fuck? Leaning to the side, I reach under my ass and pull an empty Whisky bottle from in between the cushions. How’d that get there?
“Sparrow,” Viper sighs. “You can’t keep living like this. You’re killing yourself one bottle at a time, and something has got to give. Enough is enough, brother. You’re going to dry up and . . . I don’t know. Find a fucking meeting or something. Anything! Just get fucking sober.”
“I only drink on the weekends. I have it under control, brother.”
“It’s fucking Thursday, Sparrow!”
“I could have sworn it was Saturday.” Huh, guess I lost a few days somewhere.
His growling does nothing but annoy me. “I know you mean well, but I don’t need your fucking help.”
“The hell you don't.” Viper swings his arm around, encasing the room and ending at me. “Look at you, Sparrow. When was the last time you changed clothes, shaved, or took a fucking shower? And don’t get me started on this fucking disaster. It fucking reeks in here.”
“I fucking told you. I've got it under fucking control. Back the fuck off.”
“That’s it! You’re either going to get sober, or you’re going to have to step down as VP. The choice is yours, Sparrow, but this shit you’ve been doing can’t continue. I’m not going to keep watching you fucking kill yourself.”
“What? Are you seriously threatening to take my patch?” He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’ll let him strip me of my title.
“I’m trying to save your fucking life, Sparrow.
Do you think I want to watch my best friend drink himself to death?
I know you’re hurting, but it wasn’t your fault Tempy died.
You weren’t even here, brother. You’ve gotta stop blaming yourself.
Life is going on all around you, but you’re stuck dwelling in the past. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child, but I do know what you’re doing isn’t helping. ”
“I didn’t know that Tempy was pregnant, but I wanted that baby once I did. I never thought I’d want things like kids and a family. But, watching you and Kierra with Xavier . . . it’s hard, brother.” It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud, but it feels good to get it off my chest.
“I’m sorry, brother, but it’s time, Sparrow. Gotta get your shit together, yeah?”
“Not your fault, Draven, and you’re right. It’s time.”
“I was going to send Rock on this run to New York for me, but I’m going to send you instead. You could use the distraction.”
“What’s in New York?” The gleam in his eye is making me nervous. Viper’s always been a sneaky fucker when he gets shit in his head.
“It’s personal. I just need you to go to NY and pick it up from Riddick. Oh, and you’ll need to take the truck for this one.” Well, that’s fucking cryptic.
“Fine. When do I need to leave?”
“Not until tomorrow morning, but you need to get your ass sobered up first. Clean up this fucking pigsty too.” As I look around, I cringe. This place is unbelievably fucking dirty. I’ll text Sin in the morning and get her to stop by to clean.
“How does Kierra put up with your ass always barking orders? You’re a fucking harpy. You know that?”
“Don’t worry about my wife. She does what she’s fucking told. You could learn a thing or two from her,” he chuckles but has the good grace not to make eye contact. We both know he worships the ground that woman walks on.
“I’m going to tell her you said that.” He’s not so smug now.
“Pain in my ass,” he mumbles under his breath before slamming the door on his way out. The grouchy fucker didn’t even say goodbye.
As I stumble to my feet, I’m assaulted by the smell of rotten food and .
. . is that coming from me? Raising my black Tee to my nose, I take a whiff and then gag.
Fuck, it is. I’m starting to see what Viper was talking about.
As I pass through the kitchen, I grab the bottle of Jack and keep moving.
“Just a sip before I throw it all out tomorrow,” I mumble, unscrewing the lid and turning up the bottle.
I stumble down the hall to the bathroom and flip the nob for the shower.
Leaning against the counter, I sip the rest of the jack before finally climbing past the curtain and under the water.
I just need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be easier.
Rolling out of bed, I handle my morning business and pack a bag for this “personal” run Viper’s sending me on. I wonder what’s so important he didn’t just send a prospect.
“Come on, Bones. We gotta stop by the clubhouse.” I chuckle as the big guy barrels around the side of the truck, happy to be getting to go somewhere.
Coming up the lane, I wonder why the lot in front of the clubhouse is so empty. I don’t see Viper’s rig anywhere.
“Come on, buddy,” I call, standing in the doorway.
“Kidd, where’s Viper?” I wave him off when he goes to reach for a bottle of Jack. As much as I’d love nothing more than to have a few shots, I promised Viper I’d stop doing that shit, and I plan to keep my word.
“Xavier had a check-up, I think. Something I can help you with, brother?”
“Nah, just wanted to ask him what the fuck he’s got me going to New York to pick up.”
“Can’t help you there. Sorry.”
“Meh, fuck it. I’ll be back in a couple of days. Tell him I left when he gets back, will ya?”
“Will do. Godspeed.”
“Thanks.” Turning on my heel, I head back to the truck to get this show on the road.
The road to Rochester is long, but thankfully it’s scenic, which makes the trip somewhat bearable.
Last night Bones and I stayed in a hotel on the outskirts of Raleigh, and much to my dismay, there was a minibar.
It took a lot more strength than I realized to dump every one of those tiny bottles down the sink, but I did it.
My patch means everything to me, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of me keeping it.
When we rolled out this morning, I could feel my aggravation amping up.
Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I realize my bad mood is probably due to withdrawals, and that bothers me.
I was so lost in my grief that I didn’t realize how much of my self-control I’d given up to drinking.
This is going to be a long fucking road, and I don’t just mean to New York.
At 7 pm, Bones and I finally reach our destination. Rochester, New York. More specifically, our mother chapter’s clubhouse. I nod at the prospect as he waves me through the gate. There’s something about being here that always makes me proud to be a Saint. The history of this place is humbling.
I drive around to the back of the clubhouse and have to do a double-take at the woman standing on the clubhouse steps.
Kierra’s twin sister, Sierra, is front and center with her bags packed. Things are starting to make a lot more sense at this point. So, Sierra is the cryptic errand and mystery package that needs to be delivered.
As I take her in, I must admit she looks a lot different from the woman I saw a year ago. That woman was nothing but skin and bones. The night Knox hauled her off the property, she looked awfully bad.
The woman I’m looking at now is healthy and has a glow about her. She’s also curvier and has filled out in all the right places. As I take her in, from her perky tits to her plump ass, my cock finds this version much more appealing.
She’s a fucking knockout with all that dark hair that’s hanging almost to her ass.
Like her sister, she’s on the taller side for a woman, standing at 5’11.
Her subtle curves are perfection. As much as I don’t want to admit it, the woman is fucking gorgeous.
She’s the kind of beautiful that men like me fantasize about.
Everything I see is similar to Kierra, yet different.