Page 33 of Blackout

“Says who?” Jack grunts. “Give me a flip phone any day of the fucking week.”

“Riggs you there?” I ask, ignoring the ungrateful bastard.

“Am I late? Did I miss anything?” Riggs replies.

“Is he phoning in for church?” Deuce says.

“You bet your fucking ass I am,” Riggs hollers into the phone. “Turn me around, Black.”

Scratching my jaw, I flip the screen and shake my head. The next time someone asks me why I drink, I’m going to point to my kutte and give them directions to this fucking hell hole.

“Don’t even pretend like you motherfuckers aren’t missing me right now,” Riggs says.

My brothers take turns congratulating him on the birth of his son and vow to come see the baby soon. After everyone speaks their piece, Riggs tells us he has an announcement to make. Fearing he’s knocked up his wife again, Jack tells him to give Lauren’s uterus a break. Pipe takes the opportunity to share some news of his own and reveals that him and Layla are expecting a baby.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Riggs booms.

“I’m serious,” Pipe says. “She just hit the mark on twelve weeks.”

His eyes find mine again and it all clicks into place. With a baby on the way and second chance at a good life, he’s scared of losing everything. I can’t say that I blame him. I’m just not sure when we all became a bunch of pussies. Back in the day we rode to live and fucked the law. If there were consequences to be had, we didn’t care. Nothing scared us.

Riggs is the last to congratulate Pipe, telling him his kid can sit with his cubs before he springs his news on us.

“Kiss the garage goodbye, Parrish, the Tiger has found us a new place to hang our hats.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jack barks.

“Now, hold on Prezzy, I can see the crazy creeping in,” Riggs tells him. “Hear me out before you pop a vein in your forehead.”

Knowing he’s right, that Jack’s about to blow his top, I order Riggs to explain himself.

“The garage has served its purpose as an acting clubhouse but let’s be honest, we all know it’s taking away from business. Wolf can show you the ledger—”

“Wolf ain’t here to show shit,” Jack interrupts, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “He turned in his patch.”

More fucking revelations.

My eyes snap to Jack but before I can encourage him to explain, Pipe loses his shit.

“What do you mean Wolf turned in his patch?” Pipe roars, setting his elbows on top of the table as he leans forward.

“Of all people, I have to explain that to you?” Jack fires back, throwing the past in his face. “Apparently, having his son shot and getting doused in gasoline by a man he considered his brother was too much for him,” he reveals. “He wants out and I can’t say I blame him.”

There are vital organs to the human body. When one doesn’t work, the rest begin to shut down, and it’s only a matter of time before someone is signing off on a death certificate. Wolf isn’t just a vital organ, he’s the fucking heart. Without him, well, we’re as good as dead.

“Whoa,” I say, dropping the phone on the table.

“Hey,” Riggs calls.

I ignore him and keep my eyes pinned to Jack. There are two ways I can play this. One, I pacify him and keep the crazy at bay, buying myself time to make sense of everything and possibly pay Wolf a visit in which I then get on my knees and beg the bastard to take back his patch. Or, two, I throw Wolf under the bus. With any luck, Jack will be pissed and instead of walking with his tail between his legs, thinking he wronged his brother, he goes and orders Wolf to get over it, telling him this club sinks without him.

Taking a gamble, I go with option two.

“Nico getting shot was not the clubs fault. As for the gasoline thing, he knows how you operate. He knows your head and still, he kept shit from you…from all of us.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Jack argues.

“The fuck it is,” I hiss, turning to Linc. “How old are you?”

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