After looking over his shoulder at the path he’d just taken, he pulled a face that set me on edge. “Her and Dogs’ kids just pulled up at the gate. They want to come home.”
❖
GIULIA
EXHAUSTION TUGGED at my last nerve, as did the overpowering scent of Cheetos, which made the cabin of the cage I was in smell like feet.
Still, for a better life, who was I to complain?
Getting away from Denver City was the best thing for my whole family, even if my brothers initially had to work hard to get me to move, I knew being back here was where I needed to be right now.
Coming back to the Sinners’ compound was bittersweet. This was where I’d grown up, where I’d spent most of my twenty-one years, and yet, it was loaded with a shit ton of bad memories too. Denver City had been better, I guessed. No arguments between my mom and dad, no violence, but I’d missed this place.
It was and always would be, I recognized, home.
And what that said about me and the kind of dip shit I was, well, hell, I wasn’t sure.
As the engine idled, making our crap in the truck bed vibrate, the two hogs my brothers had secured on there shake in their moorings, I drummed my fingers against my knee. As I fiddled with the hem of my shorts, I also yanked at a strand of hair that had fallen free of the topknot I’d shoved it into when we started this trek. Touching it made me feel icky, and it reminded me that I really needed a shower.
Twelve years of going to school here had drilled it into my head that I needed to be clean, because being associated with an MC meant everyone thought we were dirty. I wasn’t dirty. Neither was I OCD, but I was really aware that my brothers and I had skipped staying in motels the past night to save money.
North and Hawk had refused to let me drive on my own. I was a better driver than they were, but who was I to complain when they were the ones willing to trek across the country, all three-point-five thousand miles of it, without me having to do shit? I’d spent the journey with my AirPods in, music on, and a book on my kindle while they chatted about all the shit we were leaving behind and all the great stuff we were going to find on the other end.
None of us had admitted that our father might not want us here. They weren’t willing to accept that might be the case. Me? I’d never liked my dad, so I wouldn’t put anything past him, but I’d be gutted for them if he turned his back on us. I’d also be a little lost, because without Mom? There was nothing for us in Utah. Nothing except for a POS stepdad who’d eyed me up more times than I could count, all while dissing me by calling me a fat bitch—while silently panting over me—and who’d judged my brothers for wanting to follow in our dad’s footsteps.
Sure, becoming a one-percenter wasn’t everyone’s dream, but it was Hawk and North’s. And what could I say? If I had a dick, I’d want that too. As it stood, nothing with a cunt was allowed to wear a cut, so my options were few. Well, unless I wore a ‘Property of…’ cut and tat.
My nose wrinkled at the thought, every feminist sensibility jerking to attention at the idea of being someone’s property. Look how that had turned out for my mom. Dad had beaten on her just as much as she’d beaten on him. But, and it was a huge but, it wasn’t like my dick stepfather had been a much better catch.
Sure, he’d had legit money flowing in through his used car business, but he’d been just as much of an asswipe.
I was under no illusions that my father was great. Biology didn’t make for a decent man, but being back in West Orange felt right, and he was our in to getting back into the clubhouse, to being allowed to stick around the MC.
Because he must have sensed how nervous I was, Hawk slipped his hand around the back of my neck and squeezed it gently. “I promise, Sis, things will be better back here.”
We weren’t really a touchy-feely family, so I had to wonder what I was projecting if he thought I needed comfort. Because of my past, both my brothers tended to keep a wary distance from me. I couldn’t blame them. If I owned a pair of balls, I’d worry for them around me too.
“We’ve only made it to the gates,” I said dryly, and I awkwardly patted his leg. “Don’t get too excited,” I cautioned, not wanting him to be disappointed if they didn’t let us in. “They could still toss us out.”
“Dad wouldn’t let them,” North stated confidently, making me want to shake my head at him.
Dad, AKA Dog, wasn’t much good at the whole parental responsibility thing. Though my twin bros were six years older than me, it felt like I was the only one who really remembered how crappy Dog had been as a father.
Still, we weren’t here for him. We were here for the Sinners. Most of the Old Ladies were like second mothers to me, and when Mom had forced us to leave, dragging us halfway down the country to a part of the States where the MC had no reach, I’d probably been more devastated about leaving the Old Ladies behind than my own father.
Nerves flickered inside me as I wondered who was still around. Some Old Ladies were in it for life, others less so. It wasn’t an easy existence. With all the pussy on offer, with zero expectations, the threat of the cops knocking on your door at any moment, as well as the likelihood that part of your relationship would go down with your Old Man in jail, leaving you saddled with however many kids he stuffed in your belly… yeah, women tended to smarten up real quick.
It was hot at first. The danger, the excitement, the adrenaline. Then life got in the way.
North tapped his fingers along the steering wheel, muttering, “Come on. How long does it take to get approval?”
The Prospect guarding the gates he’d spoken to had scuttled off to the clubhouse about five minutes ago. I wondered if his absence meant we weren’t even going to be told to fuck off before we just left on our own devices.
It surprised me how much I hoped that wasn’t true. I really didn’t want to travel anymore tonight, and I just…
Sighing, I reached up and rubbed my eyes. Not only was I tired, I was still hurting. Mom had only died three weeks ago, and leaving everything behind, packing up our lives to come on a wild goose chase was just going to make this month even shittier than it already was.
Toward the end, we hadn’t been close, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be in a world without her. She was young, and I’d always thought we’d have time to make things right. But that hadn’t happened. Fucking life.
“It’s okay. They’re probably just finding the Sergeant-at-Arms or the Enforcer.” Hawk tipped his chin at the clubhouse. “They’re having a party.”
“You always were a genius, Hawk,” I remarked wryly. Anyone with ears could hear they were having a party. Not only from all the whooping and hollering, but the music that would make a death metal concert look like a ten-piece classical orchestra.
“I try, I try,” he mocked, nudging my leg with his. “Cheer up. Things will get better now that we’re home.”
I shot him a look, wondering how he could be approaching thirty and still be so fucking naive. But I kept quiet because I didn’t want to crush things for him. There was only room for one pessimist in the truck.
In the distance, the compound sat there, as unchanging as ever. It was custom-built, two stories high, and ugly as fuck with its clapboard fronting that had been gunmetal gray when I’d last been here. The doors and window frames were still white though—I could see that much in the floodlights that randomly popped on and off if something moved in the yard. From what I could view in the dark, it looked like there were a lot more bikes than there’d been before around the side of the property, and from the racket that throbbed through the walls of the clubhouse, I had to assume the Sinners had done well in the years of our absence.