"That was a long ass ride," Crunch said. "You've been out most of the day."
"What are you, my fucking mother?" I asked. I'd been out riding since dawn, and I was still worked up. Seeing Jed bring June home last night, watching them stand on the porch like that, after what was obviously a date, had my guts churning. But I was trying to be a better man. No drinking, no crazy jealousy. No going psycho and beating the shit out of someone.
I could do it, right? I proved it to myself by not jumping the fence and going over there.
If Jed would have kissed her, though...
Shit, I'd be in jail right now.
"It's quiet in here," I said. "Where is everyone?"
"April is giving Mac a bath," Crunch said. "You and I, though - we need to talk."
"Yeah, sure, man," I said, looking around the room. "Where's my dad?"
"I think he's in the bedroom or something. Not sure."
"Is this business we need to talk about?"
"Yeah," Crunch said.
“Alright, let’s go out on the porch.”
“Let me just grab the laptop. I need to show you what I found.”
Crunch pulled up a rocking chair across from me, his voice low. “I've been searching around, looking for intel on the warehouse fire."
"What's the deal?"
"See for yourself." Crunch turned the laptop screen toward me, and I read the headline, my brain barely processing the words.
“Multiple Bodies Found in Warehouse Fire Outside Las Vegas,” I read.
"Yup," Crunch said.
I looked up at him. "Multiple bodies."
What the fuck?
"Read the article."
I scanned the words, willing it to sink into my brain. Three bodies found.
Incinerated.
"Three bodies found." I spoke the words slowly.
“Shit.” I scanned the rest of the article, willing it to sink into my brain. “That’s us.”
"Obviously it's not us," Crunch said.
"There was no one else in the warehouse," I said. "Who the fuck would it be? Did you see anyone in there?"
"I don't know, man," Crunch said.
"This is not good."
“No? What are you talking about?” Crunch asked. “From where I’m sitting, it’s fucking ideal. The club thinks we’re dead. The heat’s off of us. We're fucking dead men.”
“Yeah, the club thinks we’re dead now. What about when those bodies get ID'd? They're not ours.”
“You read the article. They were incinerated. You think they’re going to be able to fucking ID them any time soon? No.”
“DNA testing, dental records, whatever, man,” I said. “You’re the fucking nerd. You should know this CSI type shit.”
“Dental records?” Crunch laughed. “When the fuck was the last time you were to a dentist, man - either of us.”
“I was in the military, jackass,” I said. “They could get those records.”
“Good luck with that, and with the DNA,” Crunch said. “Both of those things take time. You were in the military years ago, which means your records are with the VA now. And that place is a hot fucking mess, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Could it really be that easy?
“None of this is going to come back on us for a while. Right now, the club thinks we’re dead. That, my friend, is a good thing.”
“I can’t believe I’m reading about our own deaths,” I said. It was bizarre, like it was a story about someone else.
“What a trip, huh?” Crunch said. "I wonder if we'll get a funeral."
My thoughts were racing a mile a minute. “They think we’re dead. Do you know what that means?”
“We’re free,” Crunch said.
Free.
No. It was impossible.
I looked up at him. “You ever think of doing something else, Crunch?”
“Think about starting a new life, you mean? All the fucking time,” he said. “I've been thinking about it for years, ever since before I went to the Pen. You think about it?”
Every day.
“No,” I lied. “I mean, yeah, lately. I've been thinking about it more, I guess.”
“What would you do?” Crunch asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know."
“I speak Spanish,” Crunch said. “Thinking about taking April and Mac, going to Mexico, starting a fucking surfing resort or something.”
“You surf?” I asked.
“I could learn,” he said. "You need to get your Plan B in line, Axe. We're dead now, but when someone does get to figuring out whose those bodies are, we're fucked. And we'll probably be on the hook for murder. We need to give serious consideration to plans for relocating. Permanently."
"Can you see me, living in the tropics, sipping one of those fucking fruity drinks with a pink umbrella or some shit?" I asked.
Crunch laughed. "I'm going to be a fucking surfer, man."
It was a nice fantasy.
Was it possible?
You can't change who you are.
"On the other hand," Crunch said. "If we ditched everything, it would mean Mad Dog gets away with killing Tank..." His voice trailed off.
Back to reality.
"If we take care of Mad Dog, you know what that means," I said.
"War."
"Mad Dog started it."
"We just need to figure out if we're willing to finish it," Crunch said.
Inferno Motorcycle Club
Los Angeles, California