Chapter Five

"You sure you wanna do this?" I'm not looking at Landon when he speaks, my attention fully on Roy standing guard at the far end of the cafeteria. From the corner of my eye, I see the poor excuse for a hamburger rise to Landon's mouth before the sound of teeth sinking into a soggy bun and leather-hard patty gives me anything but an appetite.

"Yup." Shane, who takes club money to protect us but hates that he does it, joins Roy. With a quick glance my way as I answer Landon's question, I don't miss the way his head then whips around to face the entrance. I know exactly what he sees and that knowledge gets my entire body buzzing with anticipation.

"Show time, boys." Jackson, who's sitting on the other side of me, drawls out his words like he's about to entertain a room full of fans. In some ways, I guess he is.

"Yup," I repeat, leaning forward on the plastic table to allow Landon and Jackson just enough space to start their play acting. The distraction…

"Here we go." Landon barely whispers his words before Jackson grabs onto the table and topples it over. Food and plates and metal glasses go flying all over the fucking place. Landon gets the first punch in, making me cringe when I hear a pop. Pretty sure we didn't plan on actually breaking noses today. Yet, here we are.

As always, this kind of fight only gets everyone else excited. Some run for safety, others just start throwing punches left and right without really knowing why.

We were counting on this kind of mayhem. Once Shane and Roy start running for our position, I join the others on the far side of the room where the new group of inmates has just arrived for lunch.

The asshole's voice echoes in the hallway, almost making this too fucking easy. Just as he arrives, the guard leading them runs toward the commotion, leaving Goblin all too vulnerable. When he comes into view, I take half a second to appreciate my earlier work on him: the bruises, the stiff way he has to walk from the broken ribs, the limp from his now-bad knee. If I do say so myself, I did a bangin' job on him last week and now I'm ready to finish my masterpiece.

My left arm wraps around his neck as I pull him back toward my chest and keep the air from reaching his lungs.

"You touched my girl, you filthy piece of shit. For that, you get the death penalty." With my right hand, I give him four quick jabs with my shiv in four different areas around his kidneys, then I twist once, twice, before I pull it out a final time and wipe it on his thigh. "I'll see you in Hell, motherfucker."

Once he's limp in my grasp, I lower him to the floor just as whistles begin to blare all around and I step away, slowly, like I have nothing to worry about.

I don't. Our guards know what the fuck is happening and none of these assholes will rat on me. Not that anyone actually saw me doing anything in the back, their attention was on Landon and Jackson beating the shit out of each other.

Good plan.

Playing along, Roy and Shane escort my Oscar-winning friends back to their cells, and I decide that wasting food should be a crime, not killing rapists. With that newfound belief trotting in my mind, I pick up Landon's burger that he carefully placed on his chair, knowing it would be on the floor if he hadn"t, and take a satisfied bite into the cardboard patty.

It's still fucking disgusting, but knowing one less scumbag inhabits this world makes it taste a whole lot better.

"Kastellanos! You got a visitor." My ears perk up at the word "visitor", my mind conjuring up images of my Cherry Pie doing unspeakable things to me. Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm pretty sure her showing up last time was a fluke brought on only by the fact I beat the shit out of Goblin. Then again, the bastard's dead and the lock-down that followed probably made the six o'clock news in Rockford so maybe, just maybe, she's back to rip me a new one. Then again, probably not. The risk of her being seen and recognized is too great. Besides, my lawyer was supposed to come the day I killed Goblin, but all visitors were ushered out and all inmates locked in.

Following Shane to the visitor room, I replay—for the hundredth time—both conversations I had with Mackenzie and Spencer four days ago. Not gonna lie, I was a little too distracted by the fact that my dead girlfriend was no longer dead to fully grasp what she was actually saying to me. With Spence, I wasn't much better but at least I didn't have her face—all pink skin and bright eyes—fucking with my mind.

Seeing the love of your life lying cold and soulless on a metal table in the fucking morgue, does something sinister to your brain. At least, it did with me, and no matter how many times I try to tell myself that this is cause for celebration, that image keeps coming back to haunt me.

Just as we reach the door and Shane unlocks it, I realize that it doesn't fucking matter, does it? The moment I set my eyes on Mackenzie Wilson, my fate was written in permanent ink across the fibers of my soul. The rest is white noise and I'm an expert at blocking useless shit out.

Taking a deep breath with my renewed train of thought, I realize the corners of my mouth are ticked up for the first time in months with renewed hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll be seeing my Cherry Pie again. To be fair, it's not like she's a stranger to taking risks.

That smile quickly drops when the only person in the visitation room is Veronica, our lawyer. And isn't that fucked up? I should be bouncing on my feet knowing she's here to get me out, Bear told me as much at his last visit but, of course, the only thought that crosses my mind is… where's my Cherry Pie?

"Hey." I slump down onto the plastic chair, eyeing the brown envelope sitting between us.

"I would have thought you'd be much happier to see me."

I like Veronica. She's no nonsense, smart enough to run circles around everyone I know, yet when she looks at me, that fierce glint in her eyes softens. Kind, competent, and beautiful. The triple threat. I'm convinced Bear has a bit of a crush on her, probably because, from what he's told me, she reminds him of his mother. Then again, she does bear an uncanny resemblance to that actress in How to Get Away With Murder and he fucking binged that show like his life depended on it.

"I just realized something…" My eyes narrow as I speak because… yeah, I see it now. I can't believe I didn't before. "You look so much like—"

"Boy, let me give you some advice." Oh, shit. I'm about to get a tongue lashing and I don't even know why. "Do not, in all your white boy glory, start a conversation with a Black woman saying she looks like another Black woman." As she pauses, for effect I'm guessing because she's a lawyer and excellent at her job, I try to back pedal but quickly realize I just need to shut my mouth. "It's a slippery slope that says we all look alike. Don't do it. Regardless of color, no woman wants to be compared to another woman, no matter how amazing. And yes, Viola Davis is my universal twin but still… don't do it."

I just got schooled.

Leaning back in my chair, I flash her a cocky grin, giving her a heads up that I'm about to be annoying. "Does this apply to Black men, too?"

The way her face goes completely blank has my mouth drying up and making it impossible to swallow my saliva.

"That awkward bit of racism went straight into misogyny. What's next, Aleko? Homophobia?" My mouth drops open. What the fuck?

"You're gay?" I don't know why the fuck I say that. Like, seriously, shut your fucking mouth, dude.

"And we have the trifecta." Shaking her head at what I'm guessing is a dumbfounded expression on my face, she changes the subject, thank fuck. "Now, stop talking and listen… for once."

Raising my hands in surrender, I say nothing just as instructed by the one person whose job it is to gain my freedom.

"The paperwork has been filed. Now, it's only a matter of it going through the proper chain of command. You can expect to walk out in the next few hours.

Our goodbyes are succinct but no less thankful on my part. As soon as she leaves, I'm escorted back to my cell where I wait long enough for my clean shaven face to have a prominent five o'clock shadow.

"You're free to go, Kastellanos." I bet it physically hurt Shane to say that to me. I don't give a fuck, he's paid very well to keep us safe.

"I'd say I'm gonna miss you but we both know it's bullshit." All I get in return is a grunt.

Shane never did have a good sense of humor. Flashing him a grin that promises more than he can comprehend, I let the memory of him disrespecting Mackenzie wash over me.

"I'll see ya on the other side, Shane."

"Not if I can help it."

I don't respond to his snark but I know one thing, he won't be able to help a damn thing when it comes to his fate.

It takes another hour to get all the paperwork signed and my shit given back to me in a brown envelope. Well, except for the tongue bar that was placed in a plastic baggie. When I step out of that fucking hell hole, I freeze and lean my head back in the late afternoon sun, soaking up some good old vitamin D.

"You're looking mighty pale for a Greek god, brother." Before I can lower my head, my smile is automatic.

"You're looking ugly as ever." When my eyes land on Bear, there's a deep, calming feeling that soothes all my aches.

"You wish." With that, he wraps his huge arms around my shoulders and squeezes hard, like he too needs to make sure this moment is real. "Missed you, brother. Don't ever fucking do that again, ya hear?"

"Not planning on it, man." Stepping back at the words, Bear scans my face, starting with my eyes, my mouth, my eyes again.

"What aren't you telling me?" How the fuck does he do that?

I start walking when I see half the fucking club waiting in the parking lot just a couple of yards away. Holy fuck… the doors to the white van open and my baby girl, Philia, is being pushed out slow and easy.

"The fuck you talking about?" I can't look at him because Bear can snuff out a lie better than any modern tech at the FBI or CIA and it doesn't take a genius to know that Mackenzie, as she made it very clear, did not go to the club and wait for me.

"You're lucky I don't want to stick around this place longer than I have to, but you'll spill. I'll make sure of it." I shrug at what feels like some twisted threat knowing that I'll have to tell him eventually, but at the same time, this is Mackenzie's secret, not mine.

Prez is the first to greet me as he stands tall and unmoving, features completely closed off. Pretty sure I'm about to get my ass handed to me.

"That stunt you pulled was reckless and fucking stupid. I don't give a fuck what the reason is, the next time you step out of order, you'll be riding alone." My mouth dry, I try to swallow my, no doubt, inappropriate comment, giving him a simple nod to acknowledge my understanding. "Now, get over here, you fucking stubborn little shit."

When Bear hugged me it was like a brother showing how much he missed me. This though? It's different, it's fatherly and holy shit, are those fucking tears prickling at the back of my lids?

Nah, must the remnants of prison food.

"Don't ever fucking do that again," he repeats, and this time I grunt my understanding.

"Ya fuckin' wanker. Tryin' to grab all the fucking glory, were ya?" Sledge rubs my growing hair like I'm five before he pulls me into a chest-bump-back-slap hug and breaking the solemn moment with Prez. "Cost ya two months, you selfish prick." There's not an ounce of venom in his voice, there never is with this dude. Or maybe his British accent just makes everything he says sound better. Who the fuck knows?

I'm about to throw some sarcasm back at him when I feel the unmistakable tiny claws running up my pant leg before reaching my shirt and immediately nuzzling my neck.

Holy shit, if I missed Mackenzie more than anything in the world, Ninja is a close second. I try to pick him up but he's running around my shoulders and arms then back up again like he doesn't know where to go next. His little nose is twitching all over the place like he knows it's me, but at the same time, the scent is all weirded out and mixed with shit he doesn't recognize.

Pulling out a sucker from the bag with all my shit in it, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth, sucking a few times before letting him lick it just once or twice. Fuck, I hope my brother didn't sugar him up while I was gone. It's not good for his health.

"Hey, beautiful boy. You missed me, huh?" I love that he purrs and whines and almost talks to me as he shows me just how much two months seemed like a lifetime to him.

"I think he's trying to say that you smell like shit, brother." Grinder grins at me like he just told me I'm the greatest of all time.

"You'd think he'd be used to it, being around you all day." It's like I never left.

"I smell like fucking roses and great sex. He never once complained." Asshole.

Lots of hugs and back slaps later, we're all on our bikes, Ninja safely burrowed in his little pouch as we ride down Highway 17 back to our compound.

Holy fuck, the feel of the wind seeping through the open visor is nothing short of orgasmic. Two months without riding is like a lifetime without laughing.

On the long stretch of highway with my brothers surrounding me, I let go of the handlebars and spread my arms out like the huge Jesus in Rio and take it all in. Not two seconds later, Grinder is causing his engine to break, popping out little explosions like he's the ringleader for the Fourth of July. Meanwhile, Sledge gives a hard twist of the wrist and I know what's coming. His front tire lifts from the ground, his bike practically perpendicular to the road when he rises on his peg and places one foot on the seat, keeping the bike steady with his weight.

Not to be outdone, Shade does the same so I decide to give Bash a little fodder for his new camera passion, if that thing on his helmet is any indication. Raising my own bike for a wheelie, I jump back so my feet are on the seat. Just as I'm passing a car full of kids with their phones out and filming us all, I release my left hand and give them the peace sign, also the universal biker sign for "Whattup, dude?"

This is the first time in months that I've felt like myself. That I've felt alive, like the weight of Mackenzie's death is no longer pushing me six feet under. That, however, doesn't mean I'm done with those fucking Rebels. In fact, knowing she's alive only gives me greater motivation to end them, one slowly dying body part at a time.

Nearby cars honk their horns, kids waving from cars and the Boomers shaking their heads at us. It all seems so normal. So uneventful. Like my life isn't a complete fucking disaster.

Grinder is next to me now, nodding for me to follow his lead. Straddling my Philia again, I watch and see what he's doing, laughing when his right leg swings over the handlebars and the windscreen so he's sitting side saddle. No one needs to see his face to know he's ginning like a fucking madman inside his helmet. This crazy mother fucker wants to play footsies.

Mirroring his position with all our brothers watching all around us, I swing my left leg over and sit sideways on my bike facing him. As we start doing the foot-shake challenge like we're back in twenty-eighteen, I can almost hear the whole fucking crew laughing their asses off. An oldie but goodie. Yeah, I needed this and Grinder is a master at putting a grin back on our faces.

When Prez goes heavy on the accelerator and gets into riding position, Grinder and I both seat ourselves correctly, and before we get into our spots, I hold out my fist and we bump. The universal sign for I love you, you crazy motherfucker.

It's not long before we're back at the compound and, just like that, two months of pain and memories come flooding back as I pop the kickstand down and see Mackenzie's car parked right where she left it.

Fuck my life.

My brain is trying to remind me that she's not dead. She's alive and… a redhead. Yeah, that's gonna have to change back.

Grabbing my little Ninja, who's all too happy to climb all over me again and plant himself in my hoodie where he feels the safest, we walk into the clubhouse. Vanessa is the first to jump in my arms and squeeze me tight. It takes me a second to realize she's crying, and that only makes me squeeze her harder. This woman… she's the backbone to our Prez but she's also the mother to us all.

"Are you okay? Are you hungry? Don't answer that. I've already asked Sabrina to cook us a feast." I'm about to argue but then remember who I'm talking to and stop. "Go shower, feed Ninja, and we'll all be here waiting." I don't have the heart to deny her so I kiss the Prez's wife on the cheek and scratch Ninja on his belly as I hold him with my other hand.

"It's you and me now, buddy." He doesn't answer, obviously, but he does purr at the feel of my nails on his belly.

My room isn't locked, I'm guessing the Khunts have been coming around cleaning the dust and vacuuming. We usually clean our own rooms but I've been a little MIA and Ninja needs a clean environment.

When I step inside, my feet stop and I take in a deep breath. It's faint, almost completely gone and replaced by some kind of candle scent that I'm going to throw out in two minutes, but it's there. The cherry of her shampoo.

Fuck.

I can't do this.

Grabbing some of my shit and Ninja's food with a few toys, I close the door behind me before making my way back down.

"Hey, V?"

Vanessa turns, worry written across her soulful eyes, her lips downturned like she already knows what I'm about to say. "I'm gonna go to my place in town. I can't…"

With one hand to my cheek, she gifts me a tiny smile that says she gets it. And she probably does.

"Go out the side door. But, Psycho?"

"Yeah?"

"Not too long, kiddo. Okay? The longer you stay away, the worse it's gonna get. We're your family, our shoulders are stronger when we're together." I nod at her words and plant another kiss on her cheek.

Before I have time to sneak out the side, Vanessa squeezes my forearm. "Wait!"

Confused, I obey. She may be an old lady, but Vanessa is not to be ignored. This woman has had our respect since day one and it has nothing to do with being the Prez's wife and everything to do with the way she cares for us all.

I watch as she opens a cupboard and takes out different sized containers, lining them up on the counter next to the outright buffet she and Sabrina prepared for my homecoming. For a hot minute, I let the guilt wash over me, knowing they've done all of this for me, until the idea of spending at least a couple of hours laughing and talking shit makes my stomach roll.

On a good day, pretending to feel something I don't is almost impossible, but tonight I can't find the will to even try.

After scooping up mashed potatoes, sirloin, beans, asparagus, and the special gravy that only Sabrina knows how to make, she packs it all up into a backpack that I add to my front.

My spirits are so fucking low that I don't care how ridiculous I look wearing two bags.

"Thanks, V. Just give me a few nights to process, okay?"

"Okay."

Turns out, I don't get a few nights to process. One night is all I need before I hunt down my sweet Cherry Pie.

But before I stalk my pretty little prey, there's a little something I need to do.