Brave as It (Hellions Ride On #7)

6. Wesson

SIX

WESSON

Boomerism: Trying to leave well enough alone is often times easier said than done.

The clubhouse is full tonight. Hard rock plays on the speakers with two prospects behind the bar and a couple of ol’ ladies stepping in to help out too. It’s another Friday night at the compound.

I take a pull from my longneck Coors bottle watching everyone around. Maritza and Dia are dancing around with Diem, Karsci, and Kylee. The song changes to a nineteen-seventy-five classic from Bad Company, Feel like makin’ love comes on. I can’t stop the smile that builds as I watch my mom take my dad by the hand and to the dance area. Doll and Sass see it, doing the same with Tripp and Tank.

Here we are watching some of the oldest and strongest men in the club dance with their ol’ ladies like they aren’t the badass motherfuckers I know them to be. Love does crazy shit; they are all proof of that.

“Hold my beer,” Colt says standing beside me as he hands me his bottle. Diem is crooking her finger at him and like a damn dog, there he goes.

Who the hell am I kidding? If Emmalee was here, I would have her on my lap moving to the song.

Colt smiles while pulling Diem close, her back to his front while they sway to the song, him leaning down to sing in her ear. I’m happy for him, for them, all of them.

Envious too.

A movement catches my eye to my left, I don’t react fast enough before Karma is tapping my beer bottle. Silly game, but we all do it from time to time. Drinking it up, I get a distraction from my mind.

Dillon “Karma” Jacoby is huge. I know the motherfucker is pushing six feet five inches or more. He is broad shouldered and a no fucks given kind of guy.

“Dad night out?” I joke with him.

“Fuckin’ coparenting shit sucks. It’s her weekend.”

There is nothing Karma takes more seriously than the club except taking care of his son. I don’t know much about his ex-wife other than she’s a bitch who goes out of her way to make Karma’s life hell. She isn’t always reliable to get their son, Hollis, and it fucks with the kid’s head. I will say the older his son gets the more he seems to come to terms with it. The longer it goes on, the less patience Karma has for any of it. Solid dude, but we all have our breaking points.

“Find a barfly and enjoy the time you have away.” I tell him, hoping he can manage an escape for the night.

“Brother, you need to find a barfly and fuck Emmalee away,” he counters taking a pull from his beer. “Shit hasn’t been right with you since the broad left.”

If only it was that simple. I can’t even think about another woman. It’s more than sex. It’s real connection. Rather than respond, I take another pull from my beer. We stay in place together in silence watching everyone around us have a good time. What is there for me to say? He’s not wrong. I’m not the same without her.

Wallflowers, that is what we are tonight apparently. Then again, since Emmalee left, I find I prefer to be in quiet alone. Karma is the lone wolf like that on a regular basis. He’s a solid brother, don’t get me wrong. He just isn’t the most social.

Before Emmalee left these gatherings meant I would turn on the charm. Talk to everyone, make jokes, spin around in my chair to the music, and have a great time at least that is what they all saw. Never let them see you sweat , there was an old deodorant commercial with that phrase. For years now, that is my damn anthem. I didn’t and still don’t want my family to know I am not okay. Sometimes the people who can put on normal the best suffer inside the most.

I’ll never tell any of them though.

The song ends and moves to another one changing the people dancing. Diem stays out with Maritza, and I can’t help but notice Karma’s gaze. Didn’t know he had taken a notice to her. She helps with Hollis, getting him to and from school when Karma has him. I know she even goes on field trips with the kid for school.

“Some shit burns deep even if you have never really had it, huh?” he mutters looking directly at Maritza and I nod. “Shake her off, Busted. Women are a special hell, brother.”

Taking a pull from my beer, I finish it rather than reply. He’s not wrong. Women didn’t bother me, not until her.

Seems Karma has something on his mind with Maritza. She’s Ruby, an old timer in the club’s daughter. He would be wise not to tap that … ever. Good to know he’s never had it, at least yet. It would make things complicated being as his son is attached to Maritza and I don’t see Ruby giving the green light for his daughter to date a Hellion. It’s funny, this club life. We love it, breathe for it. But when it comes to our daughters, not one man wearing this cut takes it lightly when a brother catches the eye of their little princesses. Again, women are a special hell.

I had a taste of good and it walked right the fuck away from me.

Wheeling to the bar, I set my empty on it and nod to the prospect. He brings me another cold one quickly and I down it. Same nod, and another one. Tonight, I need to get lost in the booze.

Shattered.

My emotions are all over the place. Each and every day without her it becomes harder to push it all down. If I could go back, I would do things differently. I would explain more to Emmalee on why I was holding out. I kept things inside and look where that got me.

Alone.

Everyone is having a good time. I’m happy for them, deep down to my very bones. It’s good to know my family, blood and extended, are all doing better than any of us could have hoped for. When is my turn for happy?

What the fuck have I done epically wrong to lose everything good?

Moving to the end of the bar, I tuck myself away at the end up against a wall. In my chair I can’t belly up the bar like everyone else. Luckily, the prospect keeps an eye out on my little corner and continues a steady stack of bottles ready.

I keep drinking.

In the dark of my position none of them notice me. It’s me, my beer, and my thoughts.

Time passes as I put them back, one beer after another, adding in a whiskey sour here and there. The buzz is nice. It’s not long before the buzz is full on blitzed.

The room spins, my eyelids are heavy. I begin to close them.

Hands grip my shoulders, my torso, what is left of my legs. “Come on, buddy,” I hear Boomer’s voice. “I got you.”

My mind takes me where I don’t to go.

“Next stop, the women’s shelter. We play the cards and see who gets the prize.” Tripp explains what we all know as we climb on our bikes to take off.

Poker run. Rocky’s Run to be exact. It’s an annual run in memory of Rocky Fowler, a Hellion original. Each person donates to participate. At each stop, there are specials for the businesses and donations collected as well. Half the money goes to the person who has the best hand at the end of the run and the other half to the women’s shelter.

We have made five stops at different local businesses. At each one we each grab a card, share a drink or meal, and ride out to the next one. Our final stop we play the hands we have built.

I’m home for the holiday weekend on a ninety-six liberty. I have to return to work Tuesday and will deploy again soon. I watch my dad pull out of the parking lot behind Tripp, Tank, and Ruby. With BW, Red, Crunch, and the others behind them. I take up the rear since I’m not patched yet. One day I will be, but it’s going to be a while.

A motorcycle club affiliation can potentially hurt my military career. Until I’m done serving, I’ll stay in the back. Once I get out, though, I’m prospecting, and I’ll be having my own cut. Colt and I both are determined to follow Boomer’s footsteps. When we finish our time in the Army, we will both prospect and patch in as brothers in the Hellions MC.

I make the turn behind the others. We are rolling down highway twenty-four heading to the women’s center. This poker run raises money for the center. Poker runs are fun laid back rides where the club comes together to raise money for a good cause. Even the ones we do in other territories, all club issues and business is put aside for these things.

Gathering speed, we ride. As we make our way, a dump truck is hauling rock up ahead. It’s leaving a dust behind it as some of the particulates fall. We all move to the left lane to avoid the blow back coming off the truck. Some of the guys make it around the truck before our turn, but some of us don’t. The truck makes the right with Boomer, BW, Red, Crunch, and some others behind it. I catch the light red and have to stop. When it’s clear, I make the right. I’m changing gears as the back wheel feels loose. Twisting the throttle I attempt to ride out. The patch of fallen gravel I hit causes my rear tire to fish tail. Before I can correct, I feel the bike shift. My right leg hits the pavement as the bike presses down pulling my entire body with it. I watch my Harley slide across the pavement away from me. I am trying to gather my bearings and assess my injuries when I hear the screech of a car’s tires.

The pressure.

It’s a ton of pressure on my legs.

I can’t sit up. I twist and the Chevy Suburban is on me. My legs are pinned under the tires. I hear the sounds of motorcycles approaching as the shock kicks in and I pass the fuck out.

“Come on, buddy,” I hear my dad as I feel my body lifted from the ground. “I got you, Wesson. Hold on.”

Those were the words he said as he lifted me away from the car that pinned my legs down. I passed out again in the ambulance. When I finally came too, I had lost both my legs just above my knees. The damage was too much to save them. It was my legs or my life. The doctors saved my life … or some of it.

I’ll never be the same.

“Put him to the bed,” Boomer tells someone, “He can sleep it off here.”

“I’ll stay with him,” this comes from Karma.

I don’t give a fuck where I stay or who stays with me. I’m too drunk for anything to matter. My body lands on a bed somewhere and I promptly black out again.

“Don’t fuckin’ go, Emmalee,” I beg.

“Wes, you can’t give me what I need anymore. This isn’t enough.”

Anger, sadness, frustration, and all the emotions overwhelm me. “Fuckin’ hell, Emmalee, you’re a virgin. I know it and you know it. I’m trying to do right by you. I’ll take you to a courthouse right now and marry you. I want to give you the world.”

Her eyes lock to mine with unshed tears. “I can’t,” she whispers.

“No, you fuckin’ won’t there is a difference.”

Yes, I let her sleep right there in my arms. I didn’t get a wink of shut eye. The thoughts of how to keep her from running plagued my mind.

“Why are you running from us? What we have is good, I know you feel it. You know I fuckin’ love you. I know you love me. I don’t understand why you are leaving.”

“I’m not running, Wes. I tried to tell you. This isn’t enough for me. I’ve decided I need to see more in the world.”

“Bullshit, what are you hiding?”

She drops her head avoiding my gaze. “Wes, you say you want to marry me, but you can’t get on one knee to propose. I’m not blind I can see that. I’m here when the ghost pains seize you in the middle of the night. I watch the way you look at the bikes when everyone pulls away. I see you, Wesson Vaughn. I feel your pain. But I can’t do this. I can’t pick you up. I can’t watch you be half a man. And that’s what you are.”

Her words cut.

Her body shakes as my mind races. “You don’t have to watch me be half a man anymore,” I whisper.

I have never hated myself more than right now. I fell in love with a woman who saw me as me, not a man trapped in a chair. That woman is gone and what’s left of her, I have to let go.

I watch her carry the bag of her clothes out to her car without so much as a goodbye.

It’s for the best I tell myself. She’s wrong about what she can and can’t do. I don’t need her to pick me up. Her breathing the same fucking air as me keeps me high on life like never before. But she’s right about me.

I’m half a man and that’s all I’ll ever be.

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now, Link?” Karma yells into his phone waking me.

My head pounds while my mouth feels like I swallowed a pack of cotton balls. I look around taking in the space. We are in one of the duplex crash pads. Roundman had these built ages ago on the compound so when other charters came to visit Haywood’s Landing or one of the brothers didn’t need to drive home, we had a place to sleep, shower, shit, and exist.

Apparently, I let the alcohol do my walking which landed me in this bed. I’m still in my shirt, cut, and shorts. My chair is wheeled to the side of the bed ready for me to transfer. That tells me it was my brother, mother, or Boomer who set me up because they know how to set the chair.

“Why the fuck did she do this?” Karma roars. “He’s my fuckin’ son. She can’t leave Onslow damn county without notifying me. Are you one hundred percent it’s his tracker pinging?”

Oh fuck, this can’t be good. He is pacing the space. As I begin to transfer to my chair, the noise gets his attention while he’s still on the call.

“Where did she ping last?” He pauses, “send the link to Busted’s phone. He’s here with me. I can look while we plan.”

I get my chair turned, grab my phone from the nightstand and wheel to him. His eyes are full of fury. “Bitch took my son out of state. Link got the alert when Hollis crossed into Georgia. He’s sending you a video from a business she’s at.”

Link is Lincoln Jacoby of Jacoby Investigative Services. He is also Karma’s cousin. Jacoby Investigative Services is owned and operated by Lincoln, Draven, and Nixon. Three brothers who are as big as Karma and determined to find every mark they are hired to locate. They are the best. And I’m not surprised there is a system in place to track Hollis. After everything his mother put Karma through, using him as her meal ticket, she can’t be trusted.

I roll into the kitchen area with Karma beside me as he switches his phone to speaker phone, and I put in my passcode for us to look at the video.

“How far did she get?” Karma asks the phone then looks to me, “they started calling hours ago, but my drunk ass was passed out and missed them. If she’s still in Georgia, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Hey, we got people, Ravage will step in if she’s in Georgia. One step at a time, brother.”

My phone alerts and we click the link in the text message.

“She’s at a laundromat called Get the Funk Out in St. Petersburg, Florida.” Link explains. “I hacked into the camera system once Hollis’ tracker stayed in place for more than five minutes. They have been here about twenty, I guess she needed to do some laundry.”

Karma slams his fist down on the table as the video comes to life.

There in color on the small screen is Hollis Jacoby and his mother. She’s pacing the space, hair out to there, and looking frazzled. Hollis is sitting on a bench playing on his phone, eating a pack of those white powdered donuts that possibly came from the vending machine in the laundromat.

“Thank fuck, he looks okay,” Karma states breathing a sigh of relief. “She’s tweaked as fuck.”

“I’ll get shit sorted, we’ll go down and get him,” I explain with my hangover headache leaving because I’m too pissed at this piece of shit mom to care about myself right now.

Before I can wheel away to start getting to my van to go grab my go bag, I’m stopped dead in my tracks.

On the small screen of my phone, there she was. Karma looks to me at the same instant it hits him, “Is that?” I nod.

Emmalee Van Etten.

Stocking the laundry supplies and wiping down machines.

What in the actual fuck is going on?