24. Switch

24

SWITCH

I study myself and my wet hair in the mirror in my bedroom in the clubhouse. "You sure you know what you're doing?" I ask Vex as he brandishes the scissors.

"You can't be bothered to get a haircut, I'm gonna pin you down and give you one. It's all uneven. And what you don't remember is that I've cut your hair for the last four years."

"Fine. Cut."

"You normally take your shirt off so you don't get hair everywhere."

If I remove my shirt, Vex is going to see all the bruises and teeth marks Sophia left on my skin, and it's all I can do to not get another fucking erection thinking about them. We lay in the mess of the bed, wrapped around each other for another hour, feeling utterly connected after we'd talked.

And when Sophia finally got in the shower, I searched online for whether you could be a dominant and a masochist. Turns out you can.

Which means I've got shit to explore, because I can't remember where I was at on this journey, or if I even was on it, before the accident. I'm not ashamed of what we did. Knowing we're two consenting adults who had incredible sex, I don't feel bad. But something tells me this is private and…precious.

I don't want to have to explain it to anyone.

"Yeah. Well. Not today. Just cut the damn thing."

Vex chuckles. "I'm on it."

He begins to snip, and I see the hair fall. I can also tell this isn't Vex's first rodeo with the scissors. "So, you said you manage my investments?"

"Yeah. I do. You got quite the portfolio. Built it up to six million. You get paid a salary by the club as a medic, and you get your share of any take. You and I flip houses. Buy ‘em cheap. We pay my brothers cash in hand to renovate them. Give them cash for supplies. Then we sell the property at a profit and take the cash back out before repeating the cycle. The profit goes to the investments we have."

It's a surprise to find out just how wealthy I am. "No shit."

"It's cool if you don't want to keep doing it."

Hair flutters down my face, making my nose itch. "Nah. If it's working that well, we should keep doing it. You'll have to tell me what my role is though."

"You found the property."

I huff at that. "That's wild. Sophia used to be in real estate."

"Must be fate," he says with a laugh. "Perhaps she can help you pick ‘em."

He cuts away at my hair for a few more minutes in silence then says, "You and Sophia? Is it real?"

I look up and see he's watching me in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

"We've been friends a long time. And at this point, I know you better than you know you. Sudden was not your M.O."

If I want to rebuild authentic relationships with my friends again, I'm going to have to start trusting them. And given Vex was my best friend, he seems the safest place to start. "It was intense ‘like' at first."

"And now?"

I can't help but smile. "Last night we were talking about having kids."

"I'm happy for you, brother," he says.

When he's done cutting, he brushes what hair he can away. "You know Mom's going to want to meet her."

"The way you say that sounds ominous."

Vex laughs. "She cares about you. Hopefully it's not too much of an interrogation for Sophia."

I stand so I can bundle up the paper and hair on the floor.

"Can I ask you a question about what happened that night with Halo?"

Vex moves the chair out of my way. "I wasn't there at the beginning, but I'll tell you whatever I know."

"What's the deal with all the money people keep mentioning?"

"I hacked the Righteous Brotherhood, traced all their financial schemes, and emptied them. Got the club around eleven million. The Brotherhood wanted it back. The leader, Daryll West, Halo's half-brother, kept coming up here sniffing around because he had a connection to a woman up here, as well as Halo. Foster kids together. His time in care was messy. But we still have it and have started spending it."

"You really are a clever fucker, you know."

"Yeah, I am. You good?"

I glance in the mirror. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for this."

Once he's gone, I change into a hair-free Henley and put on my cut. It's soft, and the weight of it on my bruised shoulders feels familiar. As does the assortment of weapons on the vanity in front of me.

It's wild I've become such a wealthy man through becoming a biker.

My phone rings, and I glance down at the number. An area code I was waiting for.

"Doc," I say.

"Theo. It's Dr. Polunin. I'm so glad you called. Where are you and Sophia? Are you both well and safe?"

"On a scale of one to I'll-die-before-I-tell-anyone-your-secrets… where do you and I fall, Doc?"

"I fall on the Hippocratic oath."

"The what?"

"Ask any of your friends. It's the oath doctors take. The original text is somewhere along the lines of, ‘And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession…if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.' Does that put your mind at ease?"

I have no choice but to believe her. "Sophia's family was prepared to marry her off to some man she didn't want to marry. We think that's what she was driving away from before her accident. So, we left, and I married Sophia."

I hear a cough and splutter on the other end of the line. "When I picked up my coffee to take a quick sip, those were not the words I was expecting. Boredom, the need for a little freedom, some excitement. But marriage? You married Sophia? And escaping an arranged marriage?"

"That's what I said, Doc. I need you to see her."

There's a pause. "Theo. Her family closed out her account here. They came and emptied her room."

"I guessed they would. But I'll pay. I'll cover her bills. I'll even pay you cash in advance if you're worried about me not being good for the money."

Another pause. "Theo. What I do? It was never about the money. I'd come and see the two of you simply because I care about my patients. And, quite frankly, if what you say is true, I would help her do anything to escape her family. But, Theo, you need to know. On a medical scale of one to ten, I care about Sophia's somewhere around a three. Because she has been with us for a while. She's healed. She's done therapy and rehabilitation. Her injuries are as healed as they are likely to get. You, on the other hand, are a nine. You need the care we can provide significantly more than Sophia does."

I look at myself in the mirror. I see the narrowing of my eyes because the light in here seems too bright. Because I feel another headache coming on. "Fine. You can see us both, Doc."

"Then I have a deal for you, Theo. I will continue to see you both if you tell me exactly what happened to you the night you were injured. I will sign a nondisclosure if that makes you feel more comfortable."

I take a deep breath. "Done. I will bring both of us in one evening. Sophia's family can't be notified. If they are there when we get there, there will be bloodshed on your hands, Doc."

"Understood. I have no intention of ever communicating with them on Sophia's behalf again. If I am seeing you both for one night, I would like to have some of the others stay to see you. You will be seen by our staff for any CT or MRI required. I will book you in under pseudonyms. Of course, the staff will recognize you both immediately when you arrive, but I will, in real time, warn them that they are not to contact her family."

"If it helps, they are trying to enforce a guardianship agreement put in place to get Sophia back, saying I influenced her."

"I can very quickly write Sophia a letter to show I find her to be perfectly capable of making these decisions for herself now. I can have it to you within thirty minutes."

I let out a whoosh of air. "You're the best, Doc."

"Doctor Polunin. And, yes, I am."

I chuckle at that. "You don't really want me to call you ‘Doctor Polunin,' do you?"

I hear her laughter. "It's lovely to hear from you, Theo. I will see you in four days. To be safe, it should be late."

"Midnight work for you, Doc?"

"Midnight. Promptly. At one second after, I will be walking to my car."

"We'll be there."

I hang up the phone, relief in my chest. I send a quick text to Sophia, knowing she is home with Catalina. All the women will be there soon, being dropped off by their men on the way to the clubhouse. The house will be well protected with prospects and everyone not holding key positions.

I tuck my various weapons into their holsters and hit the medical room on my way to the bar.

"You busy?" Spark asks as I complete an inventory I found on the computer in there. Never thought something so mundane as separating triangular, tubular, and roller bandages could be so satisfying. I tick off the amounts I need.

"Not doing anything that can't wait. What's up?"

Spark comes into the room and perches on the medical bed, his feet out in front of him, his arms crossed. "I wanted to talk about what happened the other day."

I close the inventory list. "Yeah?"

"I thought I was over it. Thought I'd processed everything. But with the baby and Iris…guess I haven't."

Over the past couple of days, I've read up on PTSD. "PTSD recovery isn't linear. Retraumatization and setbacks are all par for the course. And the likelihood increases during stressful moments."

The look of anguish on his face tugs at me.

"I asked Vex to fill me in on everyone's history in the hospital," I continue. "I know what happened to you at Abbey Gate in Afghanistan. And about what happened to Iris. I've felt a fraction of that at the thought Sophia's family might take her away. So, I can't imagine how you felt going through the thought she might be taken from you permanently. And we were bombed. Right here, in a place where we are meant to be safe, while your woman, pregnant with your baby, was right there. Two minutes earlier, she'd have been sat by the window. If you draw a Venn diagram between your history, Iris's abduction, and the bomb, right in the middle is you and PTSD."

Spark blows out a deep breath. "So how do I fix it, brother?"

I feel helpless, wishing I could remember more of my training so I could provide better answers. Stalling for a moment, I sit next to him and mirror his body language.

Spark glances sideways at the scar that runs up the back of my skull. "Feel crap coming to you and burdening you with my stuff when you've got shit of your own going on."

I shake my head. "Don't. Sharing it is the most important thing. That's kinda how I realized there was something special with me and Soph. She held my hand when I practically collapsed on the floor after one of my…" I can't think of the word for what happened that day. Fits? Episodes, maybe? "Anyway, my point is, I don't know much for sure right now, but I'm pretty sure one way to get through shit is to share it. The club has lots of money right now, right?"

Spark rubs his face. "Yeah, money we liberated from the Righteous Brotherhood. Eleven million. Less now. Bet we've spent about a million developing the compound, paying off some of the older brothers to clean house."

"Then we use it. Soph and I need to finish our treatment. I've made an after-hours agreement with one of the docs I trust. Was going to ask King for some backup to travel there. Why don't you see the team there too? I mean, it's a brain-injury place, but the therapists are still therapists. They have all these cutting-edge solutions. Perhaps they have an approach that might help you."

Spark stands. "I did treatment once though. But when it came down to it, when her life was on the line, I froze. I fucking froze, brother. What kind of fucking one percenter am I if my first thought wasn't to pull my weapon and protect her? You had to protect both of us."

I stand and grip his biceps. "Don't fucking do that. You know what your first thought was? That you'd die for her. You wrapped yourself around her so that no part of her was exposed. That's the kind of one percenter you are. That's the kind of man you are. You would have died for her without a single fucking thought and never regretted it for a moment."

And then I realize I'm crying.

And I'm shouting.

I don't know why.

And I'm shaking Spark like he doesn't understand the first fucking thing I'm saying.

And then we're holding on to each other.

"Fuck," I curse.

"Yeah," Spark says.

We stand like that for a moment, and then I wipe my hand across my face.

"Sorry. Don't know what the fuck just happened," I say.

Sparks huffs. "Is this where I remind you that your first fucking thought when you were up at the cabin was to protect Halo, Lola, and Ari? That you'd fucking die for them ? That you threw yourself into the path of danger because that's the kind of one percenter you are?"

"We were talking about you, though. Not me."

"Pretty sure all that shit you gave me at the beginning about trauma responses not being linear applies to you as much as it applies to me. You had a great fucking life, Switch. Now you've got a different life. Like me. You got a woman you clearly care about. And you gotta somehow figure out how to build a new life on a solid foundation even though it's built on the rubble of chaos."

We stand in silence for a moment, the air heavy between us as we process our thoughts.

"And another thing. I'm sorry," Spark says. "Should have immediately voted to back you. Too wrapped up in the idea of safety for Iris and the club that I forgot who I was for a second. Won't happen again."

I take a deep breath. Then another. "Perhaps we should do this together."

"I'm not fucking meditating," Spark says.

I laugh at that. "Maybe we just try everything once and get over it."

"Spark!" King's voice echoes down the hallway.

"Yo," Spark yells in return. "Medical." He glances back at me. "It's a deal, brother. We'll walk to the other side of this together."

I turn to the sink and splash cold water over my face, then run it back through my hair.

There's a knock on the door, and King walks in just as I'm drying my face. "Spark, you want to tell me why your uncle-in-law is outside waiting for the gates to be unlocked?"

"I'm not an oracle for Cillian. How the fuck should I know why he's here?"

King throws an arm over Spark's shoulder. "Let's go find out together."

When I get to the front of the lot, the only brothers are King, Spark, Vex, and Clutch.

Cillian is there with three other men.

"Who are they?" I whisper to Vex.

"His second in command, Callum, is in the navy suit," Vex replies quietly. "The redhead is Iris's brother, Thomas. And the third is Callum's younger brother. He's more of an enforcer."

"So, the rumors are true, then?" Cillian asks. He wears a black suit with a charcoal gray sweater beneath it. His shoes are polished to perfection. But his hands are rough, and there are scars on the knuckles, recent ones. The costume presents a polished gentleman, but the hands reveal the truth of a fighter who worked his way up the ranks. "That the front of ye building was blown up by the Sicilians?"

"Who knew the underground world was such a bunch of gossips?" King says.

Cillian looks over to Spark. "Son. You're lucky I'm not putting a bullet in ye for putting my niece and that baby at risk."

"I'm not your son," Spark says stoically, but given our conversation in the medical room, I squeeze his shoulder. It can't be easy hearing someone else accuse you of the very thing you fear you did.

"Sorry," Cillian says with a steely glint in his eye. "Nephew-in-law."

"No women were hurt," I reply.

"Looking at the front of ye building, I would say that was more good luck than any plan on your part. I've got a proposition for ye. I hope you'll hear me out."

King steps back, allowing the four of them to enter the lot. Once we're seated in the bar, King opens the floor. "Why are you here?"

"I want to know why the Sicilians think you are worth this kind of effort," he says.

Spark shakes his head. "Club business, Cillian."

Cillian eyes Spark. "Well, the enemy of mine enemy is my friend. And I'm feeling very familial today. So let me rephrase: The Sicilians are a fucking pain in my arse, trying to sweep the New York docks out from beneath me. Yesterday, they weren't there. My docks ran like clockwork. I need to know if their feud with you is a temporary thing, or something likely to take some heat off the docks for a while as they pursue the New Jersey side."

I look to King, but he doesn't even glance my way as he replies, "It's a one-time thing. In fact, we aren't retaliating, so they feel like we're even, in the hope they fuck off back to New York."

"That's a shame."

"Why?" I ask.

"Well, I came to ask for help. When your boy here"—he tips his head in Spark's direction—"stole my niece?—"

"I didn't steal your fucking niece. She's a grown woman who made her choice. Don't talk about her like she's a phone I left lying around in my truck."

Cillian puts his hand out like you would to settle an annoying child.

Spark's hands turn into fists. "Fucking raise your hand like that to me in my own clubhouse, and I'll be raising mine right into your face."

"Settle," Cillian instructs, but I see he's saying it to Callum, who has eased his hand toward his holster. "I seem to recall you said you'd help us if we had problems at the docks. And I'm asking for that help now, because it's lapsed as of late."

"We're on hiatus," Clutch says. "Had too much heat, too much shit dealing with the Righteous Brotherhood. Had a brother in a coma."

"A fucking hiatus," Cillian says, laughing as if it was the funniest shit he ever heard. "If I'd known, I would have made a play for the Jersey side of the docks."

"And we'd have handed you your arse ," Vex says, mocking Cillian's accent.

King bites back a smile. "If you've got a New York problem, it stays a New York problem. I'm not getting into a permanent fight with the Mafia or Cosa Nostra that will just drain our resources with little or no gain."

Cillian leans back in his chair. "You're scared of them."

King crosses his arms. "Not in the slightest. But what do we gain out of going to war with them? They don't want the Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine terminal, which is the only route we need kept open. So, they came here to shoot their mouth off a little. They did some damage to the building. We killed three of theirs, they injured a few of ours, but no one seriously. We could go after them in revenge. Plan a hit on Long Island or Little Italy or some shit to rough a few of them up. But what do we gain?"

Cillian slams the table. "You get your fucking pride. You keep your reputation as fearless. Accepting all this"—he gestures to the work at the front of the building—"makes you look weak."

I huff. "I barely remember my own name right now, so I haven't got any memory of ever meeting you before. But I'm guessing that right there is why you've got problems with the Five Families. You think about every single individual battle. You've got to lose some to win the war. You keep them permanently pissed at you, they're going to want a piece of you so bad that they can taste it. Let shit go."

"Now I see why the Brotherhood kept coming back to take a piece of you." Callum grins. "You let them chip away to avoid a fight until you had no choice."

Niro and Bates walk into the bar and casually go stand either side of King, just behind him. They don't interrupt. Don't ask questions. Just flank our president without even speaking.

I like that loyalty.

Cillian stands. "I'm disappointed in you. Thought you Outlaws were supposed to stand for something, that we could share intel, but I can see when the fighting spirit has left. We'll see ourselves out."

Vex watches them leave. "Fuck him."

"Permission to step outside to demonstrate my fighting spirit on Cillian's face," Niro says.

"Permission denied," King says. "Sit your ass down. We aren't going to worry about everyone's favorite Irish mobster when we have weapons to pick up at the docks in two days."