“You look incredibly familiar, Ryder.” She squinted at me, presumably trying to place me. I had never seen her in my life.
Two stools down, a few guys bellied up to the bar. A gruff voice called over to Crickett, “Hey, babe. Holt is going to be in soon to take over for you.”
She smiled over at him as I froze in place. Holt—that was my father’s name. My blood ran cold.
Crickett’s voice broke into my swarming thoughts. “Ryder? Another?” She was pointing at my bottle and I nodded. “Sh-sure.”
Two men next to me started chatting. I tried not to eavesdrop while I peeled the blue label from my bottle, but it was hard. They were going on about one of their friends being sick and how hard it was to balance their businesses while trying to find someone to replace him. Pretty boring shit, but I had nothing better to do.
The guy with the gruff voice turned to me. “Hey, kid. New around here?”
Man, people sure were not used to outsiders in these parts.
“Yes, sir. Just passin’ through. Trying to track down my old man.”
The middle aged man sipped on his beer then sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “We’ve heard that one a time or two in this bar.” He winked over at Crickett and she threw a bar towel at him as he laughed.
“Don’t mind my husband, honey. He has a dry sense of humor. What’s your daddy’s name?”
I stared at the bar top, ripping apart the beer label. “Holton Walsh.”
Raine
I was numb. There was no better way to explain the shock of the news I was about to deliver to my parents. I was about to devastate my father and destroy my stepmom. With my brother’s hand gripped in mine, I ran through the front doors of their bar.
“Raine, Collin? What the—?” My father’s gruff voice boomed across the quiet bar and I tried to catch my breath.
“Dad.” Tears started to roll down my face as Collin fell into my side and I gripped him tighter. He was so close to my grandfather, Collin was losing it. My emotions finally decided to catch up with me. I forced my throat to choke out, “It’s Pop. He’s—he, oh my God, Dad!”
I collapsed in my father’s arms as Crickett bolted around from behind the bar and wrapped my little brother in her arms as she started shaking.
I couldn’t put it into words. If I said it out loud, then it would be true, and I just wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. There was nothing I could do other than grab my phone. I dialed my dad’s right hand man, who was already at the hospital. “Here, talk to Holt.”
My eyes locked on a stranger that was sitting a few seats away from our family crisis. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he looked extraordinarily familiar.
I watched as my father’s face twisted from shock to crippling grief. The phone fell from his hands, shattering the screen as he let out a scream that curdled my blood.
“What is wrong with Rave?” Crickett yelled, grabbing my hand as my dad pulled her into his broad chest.
“We need to shut down. We have to get to the hospital.” My dad’s members moved into action and kicked the only outsider out within seconds. His kind, green eyes pleaded as he left, like he wanted to express his sympathies but didn't know what to say. No one ever knows what to say when they eavesdrop on the death of a patriarch.
Flying down the road in my dad’s truck with my little brother riding shotgun as we followed my dad and Crickett on his bike, it felt like the drive took a lifetime even though the hospital was only fifteen minutes up the road.
I ran through the front doors right into my dad’s best friend’s arms. “I am so sorry, Abel.” Holt’s voice shook as he hugged me back with one arm and put his large hand on my father’s shoulder with the other. Holton Walsh had helped raise me before Crickett came into our life; he was more than a friend, more than an uncle, he was my second father, and the comfort he offered in that moment blanketed the waiting room.
“What happened?” Crickett cried as she gripped my father’s and brother’s hands.
“He was run off the road. There was no way he was going to make it through that even if he had laid his bike down.”
“Do we know who did it?” My father gripped my grandfather’s cut in his right hand, running his thumb over the patch that read President.
“Not yet. But don’t you worry, we’re going to take care of it.”
My father took a deep breath. “We need to have a meeting, now. Crickett, take the kids home. I need to take care of this.”
Tears were leaking down her face as she grabbed my brother and me. “Come on.”
Dad put his hand on her shoulder right as she was turning to leave. The hollowing look in his eyes was bone-chilling. With a low voice he got close to my stepmother, wrapping her up in his arms. “I will be home tonight babe.”
She kissed his cheek. “You better be.”
He nodded to my brother and me and that was that. It was club business now and they were going to handle it the only way outlaws knew how: an eye for way more.