Chapter 1 Brick

D ecember 23 rd —

“I’m makin’ that soup you like on Christmas Eve. Got the ham, too, for Christmas. I’ll be making deviled eggs and cheesy potatoes, so don’t think of skipping out and not comin’ to see me.”

Like I’d miss seeing my mother for Christmas.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ma,” I assured her as I kept my voice low, watching my brothers enter the chapel for church. From my position at the bar, I could observe everything and would know the second my pres, Judge, entered to call the meeting to order. “Is it lasagna soup?” I asked, already thinking about the warm food that would fill my belly when I arrived in Denver.

“Yep. Homemade bread with garlic butter and herbs to dunk in it. Salad. Fruit. Fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and peanut blossoms, too.”

“You spoil me,” I chuckled, trying not to think about how my mouth watered in anticipation.

Whoever said that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach knew what the fuck they were talking about. I’d marry any woman who could cook for me like my ma in a heartbeat. Bonus if she had a thick ass and a sweet smile. Extra bonus if she loved my dick.

But that wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on while on the phone with my mother.

“Someone’s got to do it. Ain’t got any grandkids yet. Not even the possibility of it.”

And there it was. The sting after the sweet. All my ma.

She didn’t let me forget that I owed her grandchildren.

“Need a fierce woman who can put up with my shit first,” I declared.

She made a noise of disgust. “Son, if I wait for that, I’ll be dead and buried. Just knock up some nice girl and give me a grandbaby before I die.”

Jesus.

“Ma, I don’t think it works like that.”

“It sure does. Stick it in and shoot your load. That simple. I know you figured this out when you were about twelve.”

Fuck. My. Life. “Ma,” I replied more sternly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You can’t say that shit.”

“Why not? I’m almost sixty-five years old. It’s earned me the right to say whatever I want.”

She had a point. “How about I try harder to find Ms. Right? Okay?”

“See that you do. Preferably on your way home to me tomorrow.”

Pfft. “Yeah.”

“Don’t get smart.”

That tone still had a way of making me toe the line, and I was almost forty.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Love you, Brick.”

Even my ma called me by my road name. I had it so long that I almost forgot I was ever called anything else. She seemed to find it endearing, so I never told her to stop.

“Love you, Ma. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

She ended the call, and I pocketed my cell, sliding from the bar stool as Judge and the club’s V.P. Titan approached the chapel. I followed them inside and took my seat at Judge’s left. Titan sat on his right. Everyone else took their assigned places.

Judge lifted the gavel and called church to order. “Alright, you fuckers, we got shit to discuss. With the holidays comin’ and the weather gettin’ worse, I ain’t draggin’ this out. First order of business?” he asked, ticking his chin at Titan.

“Not much, Pres. Shit has been runnin’ smooth. No trouble with shipments or deliveries. All customers are happy.”

“Good.” Judge turned to our treasurer, Midas. “Club funds?”

“Cash flow is steady. A few brothers need to pay their monthly dues.” Midas only stared at Judge, not calling anyone out.

Judge frowned. “If it gets to me, anyone not paying their dues will scrub toilets for a fuckin’ month. Hear me?”

Nods around the table followed. We knew how shit went. Nobody wanted to piss off Judge. He had that road name for a reason. Add the fact that we all respected him too much to go against his word, and every member at that table would have their dues paid by the end of the day.

Club business continued until Judge had heard from all the officers. He sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “I got news about Hesh.”

Everyone at the table sat straighter.

“What about him?” I asked, wondering if this had anything to do with Hesh’s murderer. Fifteen years ago, on December twenty-eighth, our club brother Hesh was gunned down on the way home from the clubhouse. A rival club hit.

Hesh missed his daughter’s thirteenth birthday party. Never sat right with any of us. Before we could get justice for Hesh and his daughter, Ginger, the police arrested a suspect.

Doug Porter went to prison, convicted of second-degree murder. He’d been locked up since and given a twenty-five-year sentence for his crime with the possibility of parole after only ten fucking years. That motherfucker didn’t deserve three squares a day, still breathing, after taking Hesh’s life.

I’d been a new patch back then, eager to prove myself to the club. Hesh had been my sponsor. He took me under his wing and helped me become the man I am today. I owed a debt I could never repay.

Fifteen years later, I still regretted that I didn’t insist on riding with him that day. Maybe I could have prevented his death. The worst part? I would never know.

Doug Porter, also known as Butcher, had been a member of the Crimson Skulls. A rivalry that went back to the founding days of our club when the CSMC thought they could take over our territory in Vegas.

Judge’s father, Thorn, used to be our pres back then. A bloody feud broke out, and the losses were heavy for both sides. After Hesh’s death, we ended it by dismantling the Crimson Skulls. Every member left on their bike or in a body bag. There hadn’t been much trouble since, and I hoped it would stay that way. Those dark days needed to remain behind us.

But hearing about Butcher? That pissed me off.

“You’re not gonna like it, Brick. Hell, I don’t fucking like it,” Judge spat.

My head began to pound as I felt my blood pressure rising.

No fucking way. Butcher better be in prison.

“He’s out,” Judge confirmed.

My temper unleashed. “Fuck!” I roared, rising to my feet and shoving my chair aside, slamming it into the nearest wall. My hand slid through my hair and pulled.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Brick. Sit down.”

If anyone other than Judge ordered it, I would have told them to fuck off. Reluctantly, I sat, tapping my fingers on the table. “Where is he?”

“Don’t know.”

I frowned.

“Yet,” he added.

Good. Then he understood I had to make this right. I felt responsible for Hesh’s daughter and wife and the fact that they never got closure. Butcher wouldn’t be alive for long, not if I had anything to do with it.

“We owe Hesh,” Titan added, glancing my way with a quick nod. He had my back on this.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Judge replied. “We don’t move on this until I have all the necessary intel.” He stared at each of the faces at the table, taking in our stern, determined expressions. Not a member here disagreed. We needed to avenge our fallen brother.

“Anyone who touches Butcher before I give the okay deals with me.”

With that mandate, we had no choice but to wait. I didn’t like it, but I nodded my assent.

Judge picked up the gavel and slammed it down. “Church is over, brothers. Get lost. I need to talk to Brick.”

Well, shit.

The chapel emptied, leaving only Judge, Titan, and me.

“What you need, Pres?”

Judge sighed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Like?” I asked, because his definition and mine probably varied on this subject.

“Messing with Butcher, digging into his location, or hunting him down for a start.”

Judge knew me well. We’d practically started in this club at the same time, both young, eager, barely twenty, and hoping to score pussy and a good time. His father, Thorn, had raised him to be a leader. I never doubted he’d take the president seat when Thorn vacated it.

I shrugged.

“I need your word, Brick.”

“Fine. I won’t do any of the things mentioned above.”

He snorted. “Not good enough.”

Titan snickered.

“I won’t fucking touch Butcher until it’s time.” My jaw ticked as fury boiled under my skin. This wait would fucking kill me. “What about Ciara and Ginny?”

“I’m planning a visit this afternoon.”

I didn’t ask if he wanted me to ride along. He’d have said so if he did which meant he didn’t want me complicating a delicate situation. He’d take Titan, and that would suffice.

Still, I didn’t like that Ciara, Hesh’s ol’ lady, and his daughter could be in danger. “You need me, call.”

“You’re spending Christmas with Nan.” His lips twitched. “She’d have my ass if I pulled you away for club business on Christmas.”

“Yeah, she would,” I agreed, shaking my head. “I’d like to know they’re both safe once your visit is over.”

“I’ll text you,” Judge promised. “Give Nan a kiss for me.”

“She’ll want to see you.”

“I’ll try.”

Judge didn’t like the holidays, and I respected his reasons. If I’d been through the shit he had, I wouldn’t want anything to do with it either. It was the reason we never celebrated Christmas in the club. Not my story to tell, though.

I stood, trying not to focus on all the shit this news about Butcher dredged up. An hour later, I sat on my hog, staring at the fence surrounding our compound. The razor wire kept our property safe, but I had to wonder what it meant for the club that Butcher had been released early.

Would the peace we fought so hard to achieve last when blood spilled from our hands and vengeance stained our fingers an incriminating crimson?

“Brick.”

I turned my head, ticking my chin as Dagger approached. “Hey, Dag.”

“You headin’ up to Denver tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Never miss a chance to eat my ma’s cookin’.”

“Don’t blame ya.” He pulled out a smoke and lit one, dragging nicotine into his lungs before he continued, “I’m droppin’ off a new Harley for my son for Christmas, and then I’ll need a ride to the airport if you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Got plenty of room in my truck. I’m haulin’ my Harley up there anyhow.”

I hadn’t decided how long I was stayin’ yet. The club wasn’t doin’ shit until the party on New Year’s Eve. Gave me a few days to relax and plot what the fuck I was doin’ about Butcher.

“Appreciate it, brother.”

THE MORNING DAWNED cold and bright as the sun peeked over the horizon, lending little warmth to the chill outdoors. I had a fire going, and my place was cozy as I stood and sipped coffee, staring out through the large windows in my living room. I liked the long panes of glass and had a decent view of Mount Charleston. The clear sky and minimal clouds provided a beautiful backdrop I enjoyed year-round.

But that was Vegas. Mostly sunshine and warmer temps with low humidity. I loved it and wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. I’d always love Denver. It was where I grew up, but Vegas had become my home.

Maybe someday I could convince my ma to move here. She still resisted it. Of course, she’d move in a heartbeat if I had any kids.

I packed last night before bed, so it only took twenty minutes to load my truck and strap down my bike on my Stinger Trailer. Dagger arrived as I finished, rolling the Harley that he bought his son up my driveway and eased it onto the ramp. We secured his ride and ensured both bikes were strapped down tight before anchoring a tarp over both to prevent rocks or other debris from scratching or denting our bikes.

The drive to Denver took about ten hours if you obeyed the law and didn’t speed. Me? I reached it in less than eight. We only stopped once to gas up before arriving in Denver a little after three in the afternoon.

I parked outside Dagger’s old place and left the engine running. “Need any help unloading the bike?”

“Yeah,” he responded, casting a glance at the one-story, bungalow-style home he used to live in.

A few years back, the divorce had been ugly, and Dagger didn’t have much to do with his ex. His son? He saw him whenever he could. At seventeen, Chris could live with Dagger but hadn’t made that decision yet. From what I understood, his boy wanted to graduate first.

I helped unload the new bike, admiring the dark blue metallic paint and polished chrome. It was sleek and fierce. Chris had a badass gift from his father for Christmas. I hoped he appreciated it.

Dagger rolled the bike toward the covered porch as I opened my door and slid behind the wheel of my truck. It wasn’t my business, so I didn’t focus on his visit. Instead, I turned up the radio, slightly annoyed when all I could find were various genres of Christmas music.

I wasn’t a Grinch. Not really. I didn’t love the holidays, but I didn’t hate them. The consumer-driven mindset and all the hustle annoyed me. I hated it.

The only exception to this rule was my mother and her endless joy of the season. She loved Christmas, and her house would be decorated with holiday cheer and twinkling lights in every square inch possible. She baked and sang Christmas carols, and that was the part I loved. Her. Not anything money could buy.

Dagger opened the door and dropped onto the seat, yanking the door shut. “Fuck.”

“Chris?”

“No,” he growled.

Ah. “Audrey.”

“Same shit, man. Never fuckin’ ends.”

I nodded. “How did Chris like the bike?”

His scowl faded. “Loved it. I rocked Christmas for him.”

“He’s gonna be on that Harley every chance he gets.”

“If Audrey lets him ride it.”

“Well, he’s seventeen. She’s gonna have to ease up a bit, or he’s gonna rebel like we did.”

Not only did I grow up with Judge, but Dagger also lived in the same neighborhood. We went to the same high school. Dated from an identical group of chicks. Hell, every bit of trouble we got into, we did it together.

“Shit,” Dagger laughed, “I hope so.”

I did, too. Life was meant to be lived.

“How long we got before you catch your flight?”

“We can head to the airport now. I ain’t got shit holding me in Denver until I pick Chris up next week.”

Audrey never let him spend Christmas with his kid. It sucked.

Part of me was happy I didn’t have that heartache. But in the back of my mind was the thought that even with all the pain and struggle, he still had something I couldn’t help but envy.