From behind me, heavy footsteps fall against the concrete floor, but I don’t turn around. It’s only when Jeremy pushes his way through the men—his brothers—until he’s standing, open-mouthed, staring past us that the footsteps come to a halt. I turn around to see what Jeremy’s looking at and gasp. Standing in the hall, behind us women—women who have now turned around to stare in collective astonishment—is Butch Whelan. His long grayish-black hair is tied back in a man bun, the wrinkles that line his face a testament to the life he’s lived. The glow in his eyes is unmistakable.
To my right, Nic is frozen in place. Her eyes are wide and filled with tears as she stares up at her father. Behind her is Duke, his hands on her shoulders.
“Still want to go with us, or would you rather stay home with this old bastard?” Duke’s love for my friend warms my heart. It takes me longer than it should to realize that he planned this. I don’t know how he could since Butch has been in prison the last several years, but somehow he did. And Butch is here. It’s smart—giving his old lady the one thing she wants in order to keep her home. It wouldn’t keep me home, but my father’s never looked at me the way Butch is looking at Nic.
“You gonna stand there and cry, baby girl, or you gonna give your old man a hug?” Half a second later, Nic throws herself into his arms. Butch raises his head and smiles at Jeremy, who still hasn’t moved.
“Cut looks good on you, son,” Butch says. Jeremy juts his chin out and nods, doing his best not to embarrass himself in front of his brothers. As the newest patched member of Forsaken, he’s got a lot to prove still. Only when Grady moves behind Jeremy and whispers in his ear saying, “You’re never too much of a man to love your father,” does Jeremy actually move. He runs full speed ahead at his dad and slams into the older man with a force that nearly knocks them all over. But the once-broken, now-whole family hangs tight.
“Where’s my grandbaby?” Butch asks, leveling a gaze at Duke. He then turns his attention to Jeremy. “And where’s Miss Priss? You asked her yet?”
Jeremy clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck as the hug breaks up. He avoids Grady’s glare. Finally, Mom breaks up the tension with her laughter, saying, “You always did have a big mouth, Butch. Welcome home, honey.”
CHAPTER 23
“You look like shit,” Mary says. Mary Wallace, affectionately known as Bloody Mary, peers up at me from her small, hunched over frame. She’s got wrinkles on top of wrinkles, and she’s unsteady on her feet. Amber says she has a cane she’s supposed to use, but the moment I asked if she needed it, she informed me the only thing she’d need it for was to shove it up my ass. The family resemblance between the Wallace women does not go unnoticed.
“I feel like shit,” I admit. Not only am I tired, but my heart is sore. Leaving the kids this morning was hard as fuck. Zander understood why we were leaving, what we’re doing. But Amber’s speech about what went down with Rig still bothers me. I don’t know if it’ll ever not bother me.
I tried to focus on the road and the shit we’ve got going on with Mancuso the best I could. After we got the call that the fucking prick had been released two days ago, we made the call to Emilio, his underboss, about setting up the exchange. I played it as even as I could, telling Emilio that “the little bitch isn’t worth it” regarding Alex. She winced when I said the words but took it in stride. Then we all scattered, took care of our shit, and met back up on the edge of town to ride out together. Just like last time, we have some men on bikes and some in the van. Only this time, I have my crazy-ass woman on the back.
We rode for ten hours with only the necessary stops to get here—to the middle of bumfuck Nevada. To the random passerby, we’re at the West Wendover Rustic Motel. Not that anyone just passing through would see the sign or the dilapidated buildings that make up the former motel. We’re miles off the road, stretched out in the middle of a nothing desert without so much as a grocery store for miles. I’ve always considered this place a weird juxtaposition. This is our Mother Charter—it’s a holy land of sorts for Forsaken.