Page 12 of Parrish

Again, I laugh at the kid and push my stool back. The legs scrape against the floor as I stand tall. I’m about to wish the kid well and say my goodbyes when someone at the other end of the bar calls for a refill.

“Calm your tits, man,” Nico growls in response before turning his attention back to me. “I don’t know who thought having me serve the general public was a good idea.”

The kid has no idea how lucky he is. In my day, a prospect didn’t pour drinks. If Nico ever feels slighted, he should talk to Riggs. I put that guy through hell while he earned his colors.

“Be safe, Nico,” I say instead.

“Always.”

With a nod, I let my gaze linger on the eldest of Wolf’s three boys. After a moment, I drag my feet down the narrow hallway that leads to the new chapel of the Satan’s Knights. Standing in front of the closed door, I lift my knuckles to the wood and knock. My temples start to throb and my maker fights for control.

The door swings open and Linc stands in front of me with a grim expression. He quickly moves to the side, allowing me room to enter. Silence falls around the table and all eyes fixate on me as I take a seat opposite Wolf.

Ignoring everyone’s stare, I meet Wolf’s gaze and flash him a smile.

“You look good sitting there,” I tell him.

He doesn’t acknowledge his position and to be fair, I didn’t expect him to. Wolf never wanted to rule and I’m thinking the new rank couldn’t have come at a worse time in his life. The poor bastard finally finds his heart and with a woman who is battling breast cancer. He needed the stress of ruling as much as one needs a hole in the head.

Still, he rose to the occasion because that’s Wolf—always putting everyone and everything before himself. The man will drive himself into an early grave taking on everyone’s troubles, but he’ll do it with a full heart.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” I say with a sigh.

Peeling my eyes away from Wolf, I glance around the table.

“I told Reina I would go with her to pick Danny up from school and I don’t want to be late so, I’ll just cut to the chase. Tomorrow, after I sign those papers, the mess with the gun goes away. The Mexican bastard’s statement is retracted, and Blackie’s prints are dissolved. However, we’re on the Sinaloa Cartel’s radar and I’m not sure how that works. All I know is we killed the men they were grooming to filtrate their product and brought the heat on Javier. Now, he’s got no means to push the cartel’s product north and seeing as no man associated with Sinaloa has a reputation for being a choir boy, you need to be prepared.”

“We’re working on it,” Pipe says. “Bas is going back to Kentucky. Since his brother was working with Sinaloa, he’s going to try to find whatever intel he can.”

“Let’s not forget, the reason we’re in this mess is because of his brother’s involvement with Sinaloa,” I say, turning to Bas. “No offense, kid, but your brother fucked shit up and nearly got your girl and that boy of yours killed. I wouldn’t trust anyone down there. Especially after your mother went fucking buck wild and dropped the cartel’s guys.”

“There’s one guy I trust down there,” Bas reveals. “Mooney’s always had my back and if he’s got any kind of intel, it’s solid.”

Turning my attention back to Wolf, I lean forward and fold my hands as I stare at him.

“You remember a couple of years back, we were in Texas doing a run for B.A.C.A. and we linked up with the Charon MC?”

“Vaguely,” Wolf responds, narrowing his eyes as he strokes his hand over his beard.

“I remember,” Pipe interjects, slapping Wolf on the shoulder. “How the fuck don’t you remember the dog that looks just like you. The two of you fucking traded beard secrets. It was like watching a live ad for Rogaine,” he says.

It’s true. The president of the Charon MC and Wolf share a striking resemblance to one another. The both of them are bearded villains but back then, Wolf had an easy fifty pounds on Scout.

“What was his name again?” Wolf questions. “Scott?

“Scout,” I correct.

“Same shit,” he says, waving a hand. “Anyway, what about him?”

“Should this shit come crashing down and you find yourself in need of an ally, give him a call,” I reply.

“Should this shit come crashing down you think we’re going to have time for a bunch of Texans to ride to our rescue?” Pipe questions.

“Yeah, man,” Deuce, the original cowboy, interjects. “The Lonestar state isn’t exactly a hop, skip and a jump away.”

“Just give the man a call,” I argue. “He and I have an understanding. If he can’t send his guys, there are other ways he can deliver,” I add.

I purposely leave out the details of the arrangement Scout and I came to and make a mental note to call the president of the Charon MC before I surrender. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I draw out a breath and slice my gaze to Blackie.

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