Page 2 of Brick's Redemption

“We’ve got a message from the Crimson Skulls.”

That bit of information has us all focusing on Thorn and what he’ll say next. “Keep shit tight. No one rides alone.”

Brick frowns. “What’s the message?”

“I quote, ‘An eye for an eye.’”

Rumbles from the others at the table follow as every member states how he wants to proceed. I listen to the officers give their opinions on how to handle the CSMC and their threats. Things have come to a boiling point, and most of the club members want to take this to the streets. It’s time we shut the Crimson Skulls down for good.

They’ve pushed drugs into our territory, tried to push us out, attacked members, and stalked members’ homes. In the last six months, it’s gotten worse. We’ve nearly brought everyone inside the clubhouse to lock it down.

“Then we take it to vote.” Thorn sits back, eyeing each man in turn. “All in favor of visiting the CSMC clubhouse and ending this shit. Yes or no?”

Not a single member votes it down.

Once church ends, everyone clears. Thorn calls for Brick to stay, so I wave and head outdoors, sitting on my bike. The sun is fading, and the light remaining on the horizon reminds me of Ginny’s hair. She’s a sweet girl. Someday, she’ll grow up to be a real beauty, and Hesh will have his hands full.

I nearly chuckle.

He’ll have to beat the boys wanting to date her. I’ll help.

I light a smoke and finish it as Brick strides outdoors. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You need me?” I’m always ready to have his back. No questions asked. Hesh is the one who took a chance on me in the beginning, vouching for me and putting his trust in me as a young kid looking to prospect. Anything he needs help with me, count me in.

“Nah. Just gonna pick up some ice cream and head home.”

“Not ridin’ alone, right?”

He snorts. “I’m good.”

I want to argue. Hell, I nearly do.

“See you at three. Don’t forget her present,” he jokes.

Yeah, I had a nice gift for Ginny. She’d love it. At least, I hoped so. Kids her age are hard to figure out.

“Later, old man.”

He flips me off and laughs before riding out of the gate and toward home.

Intuition is a funny thing. It’s hard to describe to someone who’s never experienced its nagging, intense, persistent tug. I’ve never been a guy who’s put a lot of belief in that sort of thing, but today I feel it. It takes hold of me and won’t let go.

I can’t shake the feeling that I need to follow Hesh.

I’m riding after him in less than fifteen minutes, following the familiar roads to his residence. It’s practically a second home to me as often as I’m there. Ciara and Ginny have become my family, too.

About halfway there, I hear sirens in the distance. I don’t know why, but all I can think about is Hesh. Urgency thrums through my body.

He has to be okay.

Only he’s not. I know it. I feel it before I see his body on the ground. His crashed bike. Broken glass and metal debris. Blood. The smell of gasoline from his tank.

I don’t remember stopping my bike or jumping off. I must have had the presence of mind to shut off the engine and kick down the stand because it’s still gleaming in the sun.

I drop to my knees beside Hesh, reaching into my cut to call 9-1-1. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying to the operator. It’s a fucking blur.

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