Page 12 of Embracing the Consequences

“I don’t really want you alone.” Johnny spoke up after a moment of silence.

Kara looked up from her bowl and furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Your father is still out there. We know he’s tried to kill you once. What’s to say he won’t try again? Especially now that he has nothing to lose because he already lost it.” Johnny’s voice was steady as he watched her.

Kara froze, spoon halfway to her mouth. She hadn’t thought about that. When her father had skipped town, she’d thought that would be the end of it, at least until he was caught by police.

“I like the idea of you at the office because there’s a lot of people around there. Good security, plus the three of us are there most days,” Johnny explained. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair as he continued. “I want one of us still to go withyou to physical therapy, just in case. I’d rather you just not go anywhere alone, period, until he’s caught.”

Kara sighed, but nodded, giving in. “Alright.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood the safety reasons behind it. Until her father was caught, she wouldn’t put anything past him. Not after he’d already tried to have her killed once.

Her boys relaxed and smiled as if they’d been in a fight themselves.

She grinned and slowly ate her soup. She took sips of Gatorade in between, hoping to replenish electrolytes while she felt better.

She spent the rest of Sunday night nestled on the couch among her three men, some action movie on the TV while she dozed in and out, grateful to be keeping food down.

Marcos sat in thebarroom of the Devil’s Psychos clubhouse with his two best friends, Jason “Stone” Langford and Nico “Dagger” Gage. Both men were nursing beers while they waited for the rest of the club to show up.

Church was scheduled for 10 p.m. It was already 9:50, and the key players were nowhere in sight.

“Watch him be late,” Dagger grumbled. His blue eyes met Marcos’s and gave him a knowing look.

Marcos nodded slightly, already knowing how his buddy felt about the situation. Their president, Larry “The Butcher” Buckley, was a piece of shit and didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. He’d make them wait all night for his ass to show up. And he was probably getting his dick sucked down the road at the whorehouse despite demanding all members be at the clubhouse by ten for the meeting.

Marcos sighed and leaned back in his chair, settling in for the long haul. Things had been tense around the clubhouse ever since Buckley chose to start a war with the Ravager Knights without a club vote. There had already been one casualty; Buckley had shot and killed one of the Knights in cold blood.

Rachet had been a friendly acquaintance of Marcos’s over the years. He’d often run into him at Skin of a Different Breed when he got ink done. The tattoo parlor was owned by Garrett Cooper, but most days the old man let his daughter, Slade, run the shop.

The shop was on the border between Creekton and Mourningside, and Slade was all about the money. She didn’t care who she inked as long as they kept the peace in and around her shop. She claimed the one-mile radius around her shop as a neutral zone.

Everyone followed the unwritten rules and kept their shit locked down when going to visit the Coopers. Everyone knew they had the best artists around, and everyone wanted their ink to look good.

After Rachet’s death, Slade declared she was no longer going to be inking any Devil’s Psychos while they chose to war with the Ravager Knights. Slade had drawn a line. Rachet had been a good friend of hers, and she would “declare her loyalty to the Knights for as long as the Psychos continued this unfounded vendetta against the Knights.” Her words.

It had caused another ripple of dissatisfaction around the clubhouse when Trick had gone to get some ink done a couple weeks ago. It had been right before the Ravager Knights president had been killed by Las Serpientes in County.

Only a handful of people knew that Buckley and Vince Carmichael had ordered that hit. Marcos, Stone, and Dagger were the only ones in the clubhouse that knew Buckley was responsible for the deaths of King Taylor and Rachet, killed on an ambush he had led while on a run in Alabama. When Marcoshad confronted Buckley on that, he had gotten more lies and the runaround. “Saw an opportunity and I took it.” Buckley had defended himself. He hadn’t cared that it had started this damn war with the Knights. Hadn’t cared that they almost lost one of their own for spying.

Now it was only a matter of time before the Knights retaliated.

And Marcos didn’t know where that would leave him with his sister dating the new president.

Church turned into a clusterfuck. Marcos didn’t even have to say a damn thing for it to unravel into a shouting match. The brothers werenothappy with the new war and what it meant for their families.

It may still be a man’s world among bikers, but men with wives and children knew they needed to keep them safe. And an unhappy homelife made for some cranky-ass bikers, regardless of how hard-ass they fronted away from home.

Trick and Ransom, a solid set of brothers who had been patched in for over a decade and best friends to boot, shared a look before they turned to Marcos and met his gaze. They gave him a subtle nod, and Marcos acknowledged them with the tiniest tilt of his head.

A quick glance at Buckley showed he was glaring across the table at Stone and Dagger, who had been arguing with one of the prospects loyal to Buckley.

It was a clusterfuck.

When Stone met Marcos’s gaze, Marcos gave him a subtle shake of his head. Stone looked away quickly and trailed off,finishing his argument with Buckley. He must have kicked Dagger under the table because he, too, quickly trailed off.

Suddenly Buckley’s raspy voice was heard over the last of the arguing. “I don’t give a fuck about what this club thinks. I’m the damn president, and what I say is law,” he spat at Dagger.

“That right?” Bear asked. He was one of the old-timers that had been best friends with Jerry Langford, Stone’s father, and had always been an uncle figure to Stone, Dagger, and Marcos. He was a seasoned Psycho in his fifties and a no-nonsense kind of guy. His once-dark hair was graying at the temples, but he had it cut into a modern style with the sides faded. He still had a rock-hard body and worked out about as much as he drank each night.

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