| |
Benji
“You’re late.” Timber grumbles as I walk into the almost empty bar. The previous lockdown was called off the day after my overdose, so it’s only been my family plus Timber and JJ staying overnight at the Club with the single members who live here full-time.
“Fuck you.”
Stomping my way to the bar, I nod at the prospect who’s serving for the morning, silently demanding a cup of coffee. He looks at me with disbelief and turns his back on me.
What the fuck?
“Ahem,” Timber clears his throat before laughing at me. His laughter doesn’t reach his eyes, setting my bullshit detector off. “Pretty sure he doesn’t have to wait on you anymore. Prospect.”
Fuck. I forgot. Just what I need to top off the shit morning I’ve already had. This is my first time out of the bedroom they put me in and I feel like a newborn cub trying to find its feet in the wild. Everything I’ve tried to do so far today has become a lesson in patience. I spent an hour trying to zip up my fucking jeans, my shaking hands not helping me deal with the loss of my dominant hand or my fucked-up hand-eye coordination from the DTs. Having Joel with his broken hands come to my rescue so I didn’t keep Timber waiting much longer and help me pull on a t-shirt after he zipped my pants was enough to make my previously good mood drop into my boots. Wearing clothes for the first time in nearly a month feels foreign, the fabric irritating me for no reason except for the fact that my body feels as if it doesn’t belong to me.
“Here, Benj.” Maddi holds out the cut that I’m supposed to be wearing as she walks into the bar. She’s dressed in a suit, appearing ready to head to work, even though it’s already past ten in the morning. “I sewed the patches on for you. You’re good to go ... if you’re still serious about prospecting?”
Shrewd eyes move over my face as she waits for my answer.
“I’m still doing it.” I take the cut from her and attempt to shrug it over my shoulders. She ends up having to assist me, much to my annoyance. The touch of the leather as it settles on me feels a million times heavier than it should. The weight of the expectations that come with wearing it is enough to set my teeth on edge. I crave the euphoric oblivion that crystal meth brings more in this moment than I have in the previous three weeks combined.
I had a moment of belonging the day I was nominated that made me think I might’ve been making the right decision for once in my life. Right now, I’m filled with too many doubts to be sure if I’m making this choice to redeem myself or to satisfy Dad’s warped need to see an O’Brien remain at the top.
Not that I really have a choice. Nothing’s changed just because I’m three weeks clean. Dad still has shit over my head; Sherri’s still out there waiting to take me down; and my knee is still fucked. As much as I’ve tried to escape this for so long, it’s looking like it’s my destiny.
Another O’Brien bites the dust; selling their soul to the Black Shamrocks MC.
“If you’re sure...” Maddi trails off as she takes a sip of the coffee the prospect who ignored me must have placed in front of her. Shooting daggers at the lazy cunt, I make my way behind the bar and fix my own cup.
“Anyone heard from Dad?” I ask, pretending that I don’t care about the answer. He might be able to force me into prospecting, but I’m not going ahead with his hair-brained scheme to challenge for President if I can get away with it.
Timber grunts, his expression filling with rage at the mention of his former President before he answers me. “He’s gone back to the farm. Seems intent on drinking himself into an early grave. He’s demanding to see Princess to explain.”
Turning to Maddi at Timbers statement, I watch as she puts her empty mug on the bar and shoots me a fake smile. Her eyes hold her pain at our father’s desertion, even as she tries to hide it. Brushing down the front of her shirt, she buttons up her jacket and smooths her hair. “I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now. Mik’s my priority.”
Watching her try not to crumble, I stride out from behind the bar and give her an awkward hug. My stupid, fucking broken arm gets in the way; however, she finds a way to melt into me. Her shuddering frame sends a dagger through my icy heart and I pat her shoulder with my free hand, feeling useless.
“Have you seen him?”
“Every day,” my twin whispers. “I don’t know how much longer I can last without him. I need to touch him.”
Her confession hangs in the air; the desperation and need in her words clear for all to hear. Timber and I exchange glances of mutual frustration over her head. There’s not a thing we can do to fix this for her and it pisses me off.
Unbeknownst to Maddi, Dad worked with the Mavericks and Thomas Taylor to take Mad Dog down, and even though the Shamrocks have disposed of the evidence I left behind that night in my drug-induced haze, the new anti-biker laws the state government has passed, can keep him locked up until his trial. There’s no such thing as innocent until proven guilty for bikers in Queensland anymore.
Pulling away from me, she brings herself to her full height and paints on a blank expression. False composure in place, she stands on her tip-toes and kisses Timber’s cheek before giving me another hug.
“I took the morning off so I’m heading to see him now before I go to work. You can come if you want?” she asks me, hope written all over her pale face.
“NO,” Timber barks, urgency in his voice. “You can’t go today.”
At his loud declaration, every head in the bar turns to him. He blanches, apparently aware that his response was over the top. Timber’s an open book—way too straightforward to pull off deception with ease. Guilt is written all over him as he shifts from foot-to-foot and avoids making eye contact with Maddi by looking at the floor.
“Why?” she asks him, taking a step toward him and grasping his chin, she tilts his head upright until he meets her inquisitive gaze.
“No reason,” he mumbles.
A grin breaks across my face at his meek behaviour. He might be head over heels for the good Doc, and ready to start a family with her, but Maddi’s still his “Princess”. She has him wrapped around her little finger. Probably always will.
“Lucas?”
Speak of the devil. JJ’s voice breaks the staring contest that the pair in front of me are currently engaged in as she makes her way into the room.
“Why are you still here? You should have left over an hour ago.”
Timber snaps out of his Maddi-induced stupor, nodding at me to follow him.
“You’re right, Doll,” he addresses his Old Lady, sweeping her into his arms after she comes to a stop next to him. Kissing her while he holds her in the air, he puts her back on her feet and rubs her still-flat stomach. “I’ll be back later tonight. Take care of yourself and our báibín.”
With Maddi sufficiently distracted by JJ, we leave the two women giggling together, exclaiming to each other about how cute Timber’s acting.
“Báibín?” I ask with one eyebrow raised, feigning ignorance as we walk through the parking area.
“It means baby in Gaelic, you fucking philistine.”
It’s impossible for me to contain my humour anymore, and I burst into laughter. “I know that, fuckwit. What I don’t think you realize is how big of a pussy you look when you say it. Like a giant, fucking pussy-whipped douchelord.”
The insults I’m crowing at him come to an abrupt halt when he grabs me by the throat and smashes me against the side of the Club’s van.
“You’re pretty full of judgement for a little fucker who’s spent the last three weeks alternating between rolling around in pain on his bed and spewing his guts up in front of me.”
Yanking me forward before slamming me against the vehicle again, he leans down and gets further into my face. “I have bigger fucking problems than you to deal with today, but if you wanna push me, I’m sure I can find a few minutes to beat some sense into your thick head.”
Guilt washes over me, followed quickly by regret. I saw his panic back in the bar when Maddi said she was heading to see Mad Dog, yet I chose to overlook it and go for the easy pot-shot. I guess old habits die hard.
Note to self: reign in the need to act like an asshole all the time.
“I’m sorry. I’ll pull my head in.”
Timber’s eyes widen, and he lets me go. Ignoring his surprise at my uncustomary apology, I wait for him to speak again.
“Get in the van. We’re late. Got shit to fix today and you’re helping me.”
*
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I tell Mad Dog as Timber pushes the door to his room in the prison’s infirmary shut behind us. Although Timber filled me in about his stabbing last night, I wasn’t expecting to find him looking this bad. “You look like shit.”
“Fucking feel like it,” his voice is croaky and breathless as he answers me. He’s white as a fucking ghost, slumped against the raised head of the bed. His arms are clutching his gut, displaying how much pain he’s in, the white bandages wrapped around his middle standing out in stark contrast against his heavily tattooed torso.
“Brother,” Timber addresses him in a worried tone. “How ya holding up?”
Dismissing the question with a scowl, Mad Dog answers with a terse question of his own, “You better not have told Lainey? I don’t want her to know. She’s barely hanging on as it is.”
This is typical Mad Dog and explains why Timber turned himself inside out to make sure Maddi stayed away from the jail today. I’d laugh at their hair-brained scheme if I didn’t agree with Mad Dog’s thoughts. Despite her brave face, anyone with eyes can see that she’s half a step away from losing her shit. This could be the incident that pushes her over the edge.
“I talked her out of coming today.” Timber says. “Don’t know how you expect me to keep her away until you’re healed. She’s gonna rip my fucking head off for even suggesting it.”
Rolling my eyes at Timber, I speak up, “Just fucking tell her that he’s had his visitation suspended for a fortnight for fighting or something like that. It’s not rocket science.”
A sardonic grin breaks across Mad Dog’s weary features. “Fucking finally, we’ve found a use for your ability to bullshit with a straight face. I want you to deal with her for me. If I leave it to this useless pussy, she’ll be here tomorrow trying to spring me and take my place.”
I’m left speechless at his command, unsure if I should bite back or let his unexpected barb slide. I’m still deciding when he hits Timber with a quelling glare the second he opens his mouth to argue. He doesn’t pull any punches as he snarls, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our unfinished business either. The only reason I haven’t fucked you up is because I ended up in this fucking shithole before I could.”
Timber’s appears to be reeling at the venom in Mad Dog’s accusation, even though, it’s clear from his guilty expression that he knows what his best friend is alluding to. My curiosity is piqued. These two hardly ever argue. “Brother, it wasn’t like Beast made it out to be. I’ve never tried anything behind your back—”
Mad Dog cuts off his protests, by lifting his middle finger at him, and it dawns on me exactly what they’re fighting over. Seems that Dad told Mad Dog about Timber’s feelings for Maddi. Not that it was ever much of a secret since I figured it out years ago and Mad Dog would’ve as well if he’d ever taken his eyes off my sister long enough to notice that he isn’t the only man who wants her. Not that it’s any excuse—it’s still a dog act to use it to shit-stir between them.
My anger toward my father increases with every new revelation that comes. The man who used to get on my case about respect and morals is proving, without a doubt, that he’s never practiced what he preached.
“Don’t fucking Brother me. I trusted you with my life. Fuck, I trusted you with Lainey.” Mad Dog attempts to push himself into a sitting position when Timber steps toward him with clenched fist, his face turning red and his eyes narrowing.
This is about to blow.
A month ago, I’d be all over this, throwing in my two cents worth and trying my hardest to make the situation worse with a couple of well-aimed insults, but something changed while I was fighting through my withdrawal, and it’s making me feel like shit watching them at loggerheads. Fuck knows what’s happening to me? First, I apologised for being a smartass this morning, and now I’m thinking about fixing drama, instead of fanning the flames. It’s a foreign sensation, this desire to make amends, and it’s making me feel like I might throw up just thinking about it.
I cross myself and whisper a prayer to my mother for assistance in dealing with the two head-strong motherfuckers in front of me. They start swinging, and I’m leaving them to it. My current weakened state made walking from the van into the jail feel like running a bloody marathon.
“Now’s not the fucking time for this,” I try reasoning with them. Laying a hand on Timber’s shoulder to halt his advance, I tense, waiting to see how he’s going to react.
He shoots me a look filled with relief and steps back from Mad Dog’s side. I sit my ass down on the edge of Mad Dog’s bed and stare at him with a cheeky grin while he glares back at me.
“Are you gonna calm the fuck down?” I ask. “Because if you’re looking for a fight to burn off your fucking frustrations, I really think you’d be better off picking one with me. It’d be a bit fairer since we’re both weak as piss right now.”
Timber’s chuckles echo around the room. Mad Dog tries his hardest to maintain his glaring, but I can see the hard lines around his mouth and eyes softening a small bit.
“Plus, it’ll save that big softcock from feeling guilty when he hands you your ass for the first time in his life.”
This time, Mad Dog can’t help himself and he bursts into laughter as well. Grabbing his stomach, he groans in pain, yet still finds the stamina to take a pot-shot at me. “Well, aren’t you just a delicate little flower, full of peace and love, now that you’re straight.”
Shaking my head at the proud smirk that curls his lips, I run my eyes over his bruised face and down to the bandages covering his lower stomach. Timber told me on the drive here that he was stabbed last night, but he never mentioned that he was beaten up as well. He has swelling and bruises all over his chest and down his ribs, in addition to a cut over his eyebrow. Looks like he gave as good as he got, though, because his knuckles are split and bleeding.
“How the hell did this happen?” I ask. I’ve been around long enough to know that protection would have been arranged for him in here. The Shamrocks would’ve paid off any guards they could get to; plus, any allies we have on the inside would be responsible for looking out for him.
“Got jumped in the shower by last night’s guards.”
“Bullshit!” Timber explodes. Rage flows off him in hot waves. “We paid off screws on each shift to make sure our boys stay with you. What were you doing alone?”
“Obviously, some cunt has bettered our payoff. I knew something was up when the lights went out in the shower block. Could hear our boys trying to get back inside, but the screws kept the doors locked until the job was done. Fucking pussies still needed four of them to take me down.”
Shaking my head at his description of the attack, I feel my temper grow—along with my suspicions. “Do you know who was behind it?”
“Nope,” he pops the last syllable of the word when he answers me, however it’s clear that he has an idea. “All they said was that this’s just the beginning.”
He pauses, letting what he said sink in. “My money is on Thomas fucking Taylor.”
Relief skitters across my mind. I was worried that Dad was behind it.
“Or the Mavericks.” Timber reminds him. “They took Wizard’s death hard. Cam could be trying to get payback without declaring war. I don’t trust that cunt as far as I can throw him.”
I look between them. I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. How do the Mavericks of Mayhem fit into this?
“The day before Princess broke your arm,” Timber points at my cast with a wry smile on his face before he continues filling me in. “Mad Dog sliced and diced Wizard for trying to rape her. We voted with the other Clubs to let the Mavericks back into our circles if they didn’t seek payback for Wizard and stopped working with Thomas Taylor. Cam agreed. Not that he had another option.”
They both laugh at his evaluation of the Mavericks lack of options while my heart sinks at learning of another attack on my twin. One that can be traced back to me and my screw-ups. Once again.
Will the list of sins for which I need to seek atonement ever stop growing?
“They’re not strong enough to go to war against us and they know it. We’re too united.”
Nodding in outward agreeance, I swallow hard as more pieces of Dad’s strategy fall into place. He’s the ultimate fucking puppet master ... and I’m the ace up his sleeve.
The spy planted behind enemy lines, tasked with sowing seeds of dissent.
Dad’s plan, topped off by the sins I’ve already committed and kept hidden, will force the end of my relationship with my family if I fail to pull off my part in his schemes.
A dozen ways to circumnavigate my father circle through my mind. There’s ways around doing what he wants if I can find the guts to pursue them. Only problem is that they all begin with me telling Mad Dog and Timber the truth about everything.
And that’s not something I’m willing to do.
Yet.
