Page 31 of Brave as It

The two men study each other. “There wasn’t supposed to be a kid. Just two women. She was supposed to send the kid back.” They are talking like we aren’t standing right here.

Dia is the one to pipe up still wiggling trying to get free. “Alright fellas, take me and Emmalee. Leave Maritza and the kid.” She’s talking like they didn’t just shoot a woman in the head in front of us. “She’s gonna bleed out and he’s in shock won’t be saying shit.”

Before I can try to argue another man rounds the corner also wearing dress pants and button up shirt. I don’t know who comes to kidnap and kill dressed for church but I’m not about to ask them.

“Take that one,” he points to Dia, “she’s our ticket out of town after. The Hellions will give anything for her.”

Shit.

“Emmalee Van Etten,” he looks to me and approaches. “I have been waiting to meet you. You and I need to take a little trip together. After which I know your mother is dying to see you.”

“Umm, I haven’t seen my mother and I’m not sure what you think I can do for you, mister?” I try to look dumbfounded.

“Patrick O’Leary dear. I’ve tried to let other people handle you and it seems you are quite clever.”

What the fuck am I going to do now?

TEN

WESSON

Boomerism: There is no peace in chaos.

Livinglife on the edge both in my military career and as a Hellion, I have never been this consumed by fear. Even with my accident, I wasn’t this anxious. Some of the people I love the most are in danger, and I can’t simply fix it.

Truthfully, we are both anxious as we get off the plane. I can only imagine the level of emotions plaguing Karma right now. Hollis is his whole world even above the club. He is the man he is today because he’s Hollis’s dad.

In these couple of hours, we have been out of reach, what may have changed? We have to get out of here, get an update, and make a plan. Having no carry-ons or luggage we don’t have to go to baggage claim. Grab a ride share or taxi and get to our family. My adrenaline pumps knowing we are close, not only to Emmalee, but to getting Dia, Maritza, and Hollis.

Family is everything.

I just hope my chair doesn’t hold Karma up more than it already has. Time is everything in these situations and dealingwith the stops for me to transfer matter. It kills me inside. I want nothing more than to take off running right into the situation.

I can’t.

And that kills me more than anything.

Growing up, we used to chant,“can’t never could.”Never in my wildest nightmares did I envision truly experiencing a can’t. I was the man who believed everything was possible.

Until it wasn’t.

I can’t fail these people and I can’t let my limitations hold anyone back. This one matters more than any mission I’ve ever been a part of both in the Army and on the home front. Even now, years after my accident, there are times things pop up and fuck with my head more than the usual.

Flying as a person in a wheelchair is a problem. I don’t care what airline it is and how inclusive they intend to be, there is always, and most likely will always be hiccups in flying compared to an able-bodied person. The aisles aren’t fit for standard wheelchairs and while I have a custom, smaller one, it still doesn’t work easily through planes. Due to the position of the locks for my chair I am always forced to be the last one off. Normally it’s fine, but right now every second counts, and my lack of legs is causing Karma delays. The guilt gnaws at me, but I don’t have time to dwell.

Everyone around us ceases to exist. One focus pushes us both. We are coming out of the airport to catch a taxi or try to book a ride share when we see a man in a cut. We aren’t home, this isn’t our territory, but neither of us are about to take off our colors. If our cuts piss this man and his club off, he can get in line until we are done with our business here.

Most clubs, even the Hellions, don’t react when someone passes through. It’s when an outsider stays, or trouble is stirred that problems begin, and we do whatever is necessary to protect our own. However, not every MC is the same. Some kill forfucking sport. I don’t know what we are coming into with another club already present at a fucking airport.

Getting closer, he twists looking around him with his sign and we see the prospect patch on the back. At least he has no power. He won’t shoot first and ask questions later, that will cost him his rocker regardless of the level of risk any club plays at. The sign has my name on it making me wonder how he knows to look for me. He catches my eye taking in my chair. His stare lingers a bit and I feel the acid burn in my stomach.

Same look most people give and right now that pity makes me want to throat punch this motherfucker. Territories be damned, fuck my code, and take out my aggression wherever I can. Right now, that feels like him.

“Busted?” he asks as we approach.

“What’s it to ya?” I counter even knowing my cut states my name in plain sight for him.

He motions behind him, and a van begins to pull up. “I’m Tubs and a prospect for Sinister Sons. Supposed to take you with me.”

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