Page 68 of Grace's Redemption
My father had created the SouthEast Dragons as he came to a disagreement and fractured off of a local chapter of the Vipers over twenty years ago. We have a few regional chapters, but nothing like the Vipers or the Legion of Guardians for that matter. They had chapters all over the place.
Fucking do gooders.
“I need you to keep up appearance with this group.” He said the wordgroupwith disdain. “Make sure they think we are on their side.”
“We are on their side.” I stood up.
“No. We are on our side.” My dad grabbed my arm.
I flinched but didn’t put it away. He let go.
“We are always on our side. It’s the SouthEast Dragons. Nothing else mattered. We use them to get what we want, but if they turn on us, they are our enemy, too.”
“Fine.” I walked toward the entrance of the bar.
“Where are you going?” He asked.
“I need some air.” I stopped and looked around. One of the Guardians near the bar stared at me. I felt his eyes on me. I walked back over to my father. “I’m going to ride up north for a couple of days. See if I can find out something about Mattie’s murderer.”
My dad cringed and dropped his head.
“Why don’t you just let it go?” He growled under his breath.
“He was my brother. Your son.” I shook my head. “Don’t ask me that fucking question again.”
Dad grabbed the collar of my jacket with a firm grip and dragged me into a corner.
“You are acting like a pussy bitch. Crying over your brother. We are a club, a family. We had enemies. People died. We go on. Your brother wouldn’t want you dwelling on it for the rest of your life. You have to get over it or get the fuck out. I’m not handing my club over to someone who would put his personal agenda over his club’s welfare.”
I turned and stared down at him. My father was a few inches shorter than me, but he was thick. His thick beard had greyed and he had wrinkles around his eyes. He looked old and worn down. He had every bit of his piss and vinegar in his system, but even Greta had noticed his bark and his bite had increased exponentially.
He measured me with an equally intense stare, let go of my cut, turned and walked away. I headed toward the door and out in the fresh air. I sucked in a breath like it was the first fresh breath I’d had in years. I ran my hand through my hair and scratched the back of my neck. I felt the eyes on me again. I turned and bumped into the guy staring at me from the bar.
The guy wore a Guardians cut and had President stitched on his left chest.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Getting late.” He said and stared up at the moon. “You guys heading back tonight.”
I followed his gaze.
“I like riding at night.” I nodded.
He nodded.
“Roads are quiet, just a man alone with his thoughts.” I said.
He looked at me and laughed as he extended his hand.
“James—.”
“What do you want, James?” I shook his hand and squeezed.
He squeezed back, matching my strength, which surprised me.
“Just being a gracious host.” He squeezed again and released my hand. “You’re at a Guardians event. I was trying to be polite, friend.”
I smirkedand shuffled down the two steps and over toward my parked bike.
