Page 59 of Parrish

Chapter Twenty-one

Jack Parrish

After Ritzer made his power play and carted Blackie out of the hospital in cuffs, Lacey threw a fucking fit. Desperate to get her out of the hospital, I was torn between my wife and daughter. Not to mention, Danny had suffered a traumatic ordeal and needed me too. If I could split myself in two, I’d have left a piece of me with Reina and the other with Lacey and Danny.

Knowing Reina would expect me to take care of my children, I asked Grace if she’d mind staying with her until I could pick up Danny and get him and Lacey back home. I figured if my wife woke up the only face other than mine, she’d want to see is Grace’s. She sure as fuck wouldn’t want to see Pipe or Wolf’s ugly mug. Hell, she probably wouldn’t want to see anyone with a patch.

To be fair, neither did I.

None of them believed me. As far as I was concerned, having Needles take Nico down to the shop to identify the ink was just the club’s way of pacifying me.

“What’s the plan?” Lacey questions, pulling me away from my thoughts. It’s the first words she’s uttered since she regretfully handed me the keys to her car and agreed to leave the hospital with me.

“I’ll go in and get Danny from Maria and take you both home to my house. I’m sure one of the guys wouldn’t mind going to your house to pick up whatever you need. Once Danny is settled, I’ll go back to the hospital.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” she accuses, slicing her eyes to me. “I’m not the young girl I was the last time Blackie went to prison, and you kept me in the dark. I’m his pregnant wife.”

My hands tighten around the steering wheel and I remain silent as I turn onto Wolf’s block. I don’t have an answer for her. There was no time to get inside Blackie’s head before they carted him off. I don’t know if he retained Schwartz because he expected Ritzer to go after him or if he offered himself on a silver platter to take the heat off me.

“Answer me,” she demands, slamming her palm against the dashboard. “I’m not your wife, dad. I won’t keep quiet while you and my husband decide the fate of my family.”

Pulling into Wolf’s driveway, I shift the car into park and turn my attention to her.

“I don’t have a plan,” I admit.

“Bullshit,” she calls. “The two of you always have something up your sleeve.”

“Lace—”

“He’s not himself, dad,” she interrupts. “He’s fragile. The stress of my illness, the pregnancy and all the changes within the club have affected his recovery. He won’t survive prison. Not this time,” she cries.

Again, I remain silent. She’s right. It’s another reason I was quick to make the deal in the first place. Right before we walked into that paper factory to meet with the cartel, Blackie revealed Lacey was pregnant and for the first time in years, I saw fear in his eyes. At the time I thought he was worried we wouldn’t make it out of the meeting alive. I soon realized he was afraid of failing his wife and child.

Something I was all too familiar with.

I later learned he was drinking again. One poison was never enough to sustain Blackie, and I didn’t think it’d be long until he took the streets looking to get high. Back in the day, I never figured how to control his addiction. No matter how many times I tried to return the favor and talk him off the ledge, he always turned to drugs. Then, I told myself he had a death wish. That he was grieving his wife, Christine. Now, I know the poor bastard is his own worst enemy.

Our prison system is as corrupt as City fucking Hall. An inmate can score drugs simply by trading toothpaste or greasing the palm of a correction officer. It makes me wonder about his intentions. Maybe he did offer himself up but not as a distraction. Maybe the bastard wanted a reprieve and figured if he was in a cell and not under the watchful eye of his wife or his brothers, he could ruin himself. He could snort and shoot himself into oblivion.

The thought makes my jaw clench.

All that talk about being my right and trusting my gut---bullshit. The motherfucker is on a suicide mission.

“So who’s it going to be this time?” Lacey questions. “The last time he got locked up, you sent Stryker in there to watch him and pulled strings so he’d end up in the same prison as Victor.”

“Things were different then,” I grind out.

Victor was alive, and I had time to devise a plan. I also had control. Now, Wolf has the gavel, and I got dick.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she shrieks. “You’re just going to let him rot there? Were you not standing right next to me when they read him his rights? They arrested him for a slew of charges. If they stick, he’s facing two counts of murder, a possession charge and aiding in the disappearance of that paramedic.”

Blackie’s print on the gun is circumstantial at best. The only proof they have placing him at the scene of the ambush was Javier’s guy's word. In a court of law, that shit will never stick. One fucking criminal pointing a finger at another is bullshit and let’s be real, it wouldn’t take a whole lot of effort to make that motherfucker disappear before the trial. A snap of the neck and a shallow grave can be arranged.

The paramedic is a problem. So is aiding in the disappearance of the other one. It doesn’t matter that I confessed to putting the fucking bullet in that paramedic’s head or that I might as well have given his partner the rope she used to hang herself, Ritzer knows I’ll pull the insanity card now. However, a case against Blackie will make or break his career.

“You know I was heartbroken that you were going away for thirteen years,” she continues. “But we had a little time to prepare. This came out of nowhere, dad. I thought he’d be with me. That he’d help me deal with losing you and somehow, someway, we’d be okay. I know that sounds callous like I’m choosing him over you, but I can’t help it.”

Turning the ignition off, I twist in my seat and face her, watching as tears stream down her pretty face.

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