HARD KNOX (10 page)

chapter eighteen

(knox)

*NOW*

At the garage, I kicked open the
door to the chapel and smiled big.

“Amen, motherfuckers,” I said.

It was the same as before. Just a
little dusty and in need of a good cleaning.

I walked the length of the table
and stood behind the chair where the old man took the helm of the Reaper’s
Bastards MC. They called him Hammer because in his earlier days that was his
favorite weapon. It actually started out by mistake. He had gotten into a beef
with someone at a garage he was working at. My guess was that it stemmed from
something between he and my mother were squabbling about.

He wanted in on the MC and they
were fucking with him.

Someone said the wrong thing and
the old man grabbed a hammer and broke the guy’s jaw. Turned out that guy was a
prospect for the MC. The old man got to take his place and when he was sent out
to do things, they gave him a hammer. He’d break fingers, kneecaps, jaws,
whatever was needed.

When he was patched in, they gave
him the name Hammer.

I didn’t sit in the seat the old
man took as President of the MC. It wasn’t my place to do so. But I stood there
and thought about what he’d do. Putting the cut back on was maybe a slap in the
face to him and Uncle Jakey, but what good was the Reap if our cuts weren’t
being shown?

Ari and Matteo came into the room
next.

“Knox,” Matteo said. “Lawyer called
and you’re all set for your meeting.”

“Did you get in touch with Uncle
Jakey?” I asked, looking at Ari.

“Left a message. He’s going to be pissed.”

“I know,” I said. “But we can’t
hide anymore. We’re members of the fucking Reaper’s Bastards.”

“Amen to that,” Matteo said. “I’m
tired of barely getting by with things and feeling dead inside.”

“This puts a lot of eyes and heat
back on us,” Ari said.

“Good,” I said. “I have my own shit
to settle. Personal shit. I want eyes on me.”

I patted the top of the old man’s
chair and then walked toward Matteo and Ari. I hugged them both, our hands
smacking each other’s leather cuts, just like we always used to. It should have
never stopped happening. The old man going to prison didn’t need to end
everything.

I walked to my motorcycle and saw
Slam sitting on his motorcycle. He was finishing a smoke and gave me a nod.

“Where are you riding today?” I
asked.

“With you, brother,” he said. “We
don’t travel alone, right?”

I smiled.

Just like before. Just like always.

A true brotherhood.

I put my fist out and Slam punched.

We hit the road, cruising north
through the northern Cali mountains to the prison. Fuck me if the damn place
didn’t jut out of the goddamn horizon like something out of a horror movie. I
hated the fucking place. I’d been there a handful of times, visiting members of
the Reap that had taken a hard fall. We never left our brothers behind until
they did something treasonous against the MC. A lot of good men were put behind
those stone walls and a lot of them took their last breaths there.

That was the thing about prison and
jail and all that legal justice bullshit. From the public it was a
do the
crime, do the time
sort of deal. But what if the crime had a better outcome
for the town and the people who depended on being safe?

Shit, one of our guys, Maxx
,
heard
his only daughter had been violated by some scum fuck that hung around and
dealt drugs outside the one school in town. His old lady had skipped out and
was stripping every night to make ends meet. Maxx lost his fucking mind over
the ordeal. The PD wasn’t able to tie the scum fuck to anything, including the
drugs that had killed a handful of high school kids.

We took a vote on it and it was
shot down on how to handle the issue. I remember the old man getting so fucking
livid about it.

Maxx didn’t care though. He already
made up his mind.

He killed the scum fuck right
outside the school and waited for the PD to find him. He declared his version
of justice and then got his own when he was sent up north for life. The jury
spared him the death penalty but some internal shit between the Reap and
another crew got hot on the inside and Maxx was tagged.

So you tell me… who was right and
wrong in that situation?

Now, for my old man, the deal was a
little different. The club had eyes on us for a long time. It caught up to my
old man after a botched gun run. It was an interstate affair and spread on the
news like wildfire making it damn near impossible to get away from. The old man
was tied into deals, drugs, murder, along with some bogus prostitution stuff.
No matter what, he was hit so hard with charges the best the lawyers could do
was negotiate a life in prison sentence. He was granted some freedoms on the
inside, all of which had to be bought through favors in and out of the MC.

I stopped my motorcycle at the
barbed wire capped fence and climbed off. I slipped my fingers around the fence
and tugged at it.

Shit, maybe I was a little soft
that my old man wasn’t outside. He wasn’t a great father but he always gave me
advice and gave me his ear.

I had Slam hang outside and keep an
eye open for anything. I told him to keep my phone in case Ana called. Saying
that name caused him to raise an eyebrow.

Old habits, Knox?
his eyes
asked.

Fuck you, Slam. Fuck everyone.

I always hated going into the
prison or jail. The way the door slammed behind me it always felt like a
premonition. I sure as fuck hoped my time would never come. But that was as
unpredictable as death.

The guards took me to a small room
with what looked like a black metal picnic table. I sat there and heard a buzz
before the other door opened.

My old man then entered the room,
wearing his goddamn orange jumpsuit, ankles shackled, along with his hands. The
guard walked him to the table and I stood up.

“Come on, man,” I said to the
guard. “He’s not going to fucking do anything to me. I’m his son.”

The guard looked at the old man.

My old man half smiled. “Better
shackle me to the table. After all, he is my son. And I’m sure he’s due for a
good kick in the ass.”

The guard laughed. “Whatever you
want, Hammer.”

“You two friendly, huh?” I asked.

“Cameras are off,” the guard said.
He then put a key down on the table. “I dropped this by mistake. Don’t make me
regret it.”

“Left pocket,” the old man said.

The guard reached into my father’s
pocket and pulled out a couple bags of dope.

I shook my head as the guard walked
away.

The old man shrugged. “I still
gotta earn, son. No motorcycles to fix in here, so I keep the guards happy. It’s
a means to an end.”

“I know your ending,” I said.

“Son, we all have the same ending.
I’m just on the fast track for it.”

I had to hand it to him.
Hammer
knew how to take care of things. He always did.

“So you’re doing good here?” I
asked.

“You didn’t come to talk about
that. Sit the fuck down, kid.”

We sat. I had planned on talking to
the old man with a little bit of etiquette, but as I sat there in my leather
cut, there was no getting around why I was there.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he
asked.

“We can’t sit and wait anymore,” I
said. “I had the guys put their cuts on last night. I’m tired of it, Dad.”

He nodded. “It comes with
responsibility and a lot of heat. The second someone sees the Reap patch flying
through the air on a steel horse, it’s going to drum up all the old shit. Including
King.”

“Hey,” I said. “You guys are
inside, not me. Sorry. Anyone approaches, they can look at the garage. We’re
keeping the lights with our legit business. Everything after dark… fuck it. We’re
doing it whether we’re in cuts or not.”

“You know, Knoxville, it takes some
serious balls to do that. With me sitting here. Knowing what I’m up against on
the inside. You talk to Uncle Jakey yet?”

“No.”

The old man laughed. “He’s going to
rip your dick off and make you eat it.”

“I’m well aware of the implications
of this decision. I wanted to face you man to man and get your blessing.”

“Blessings,” the old man said. He
opened his hands. “Yes, the Lord
shineth
uponith meith todayith
…
”

“Funny.”

“They have chapel here,” he said. “Different
than ours though, kid. They read out of a book instead of using their eyes and
mind.”

“It’s more comforting that way,” I
said. “So you have someone to blame for when shit goes wrong.”

“Who do you blame, son?”

“For what?”

“Your life. Your Ma took off. I
fucked your girlfriend’s mother. I ran a life of an outlaw right into a life
sentence. I left you with nothing. I gave you nothing. Shit, you were nothing
but a pile of cum that somehow hit the right spot at the right time.”

That was his way of saying he
loved me.

“Well, thanks for shooting a load
into my mother’s slit and not her throat. Glad I was created and not digested.”

“That’s the spirit, son,” the old
man said.

“I’m going to turn on the
son
thing for a second,” I said. “I’m here right now, Hammer, to ask about the
President’s seat.”

His face turned hard. His nostrils
flared. It was a soft spot for him and rightfully so. He never gave up the
gavel. Nobody ever voted him out either. But a President couldn’t run a club in
prison. Not on a life sentence either. And technically, since he hadn’t ridden
in years, his seat was considered vacant.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he
said. He stood up and grabbed the key off the table.

“No, Prez,” I said. “I’m not
leaving without an answer.”

“I said to fucking leave.”

He started to move and reached
across the table, grabbing the chains that held his hands together. He swung
up, smashing me against the bottom of my mouth. All I tasted was blood. But I
didn’t let the chains go. I pulled the old man across the table and threw him
to the ground. I stepped back and let him climb to his feet.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Answer me, Prez.”

“Cut it with the Prez shit, son.”

“Give me my answer, Hammer.”

The old man charged at me. He still
had the same size and strength as I remembered. He drove me back into a wall
and we wrestled to the ground. We landed an equal two punches and broke apart
again.

I sat with my knees bent.

He wiped blood from the corner of
his eye.

“Fuck,” he said. “The seat is
vacant, son. I’m not the President of the Reaper’s Bastards anymore. We both
know that.”

“Then who succeeds you?” I asked.

He looked at me. “You want me to
say you.”

“I want an answer. My boys are
ready to ride. We’re ready to earn and take back our town.”

“It’s bad, huh?”

“Getting there. Ana got herself…”

“Ana, huh? Jesus Christ, Knoxville.
Still dipping in the same watering hole. What did I tell you…”

“I don’t want to hear it. She’s
been close to someone in
the family
. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of
looking over my shoulder and waiting for those suited goons to show up.”

“Looks like they already did,” the
old man said, nodding to the marks on my face from Porter.

“That’s why I’m starting this. I’m
not stopping until I get what I want.”

“Stubborn like your mother.”

“I’ll tell Uncle Jakey you gave the
blessing for him to call the meetings and swing the gavel. I want to sit as
enforcer.”

“No,” the old man said.

“What?”

“You sit to the left,” he said.

“VP?”

“Yeah. You set the team. They’re
your guys. Give Uncle Jakey his due by sitting at the head. Everything else
falls on you, son.” The old man wrestled himself to his feet and looked down at
me. “I hope you know what you’re starting. This will quickly spread on the
inside.”

“If you need any resources, Dad…”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he
said. “I don’t want or need anything from you, son. You want this life like I
did. Now go get it. My only advice is to take your beatings as needed and never
give up your loyalty to the cut.”

I patted my chest. “Never.”

The old man walked to the door and
pounded on it. A few seconds later it buzzed and the door opened. He whispered
something to the guard and was given a pen and a piece of paper. He scribbled
on the paper and then dropped it to the floor. He didn’t even fucking look back
at me. Then he was gone. I sat there for a little bit, bleeding and hurting,
before I got to my feet and went to get the piece of paper.

When I read it, I thought my knees
were going to give out.

I stared at the door for a few
minutes, not knowing what to think.

The old man had just given me his
parting gift to the Reaper’s Bastards.

That
’s when I realized I
would never see my father again.

“Father, son bonding?” Slam asked
and pointed to my face.

“He took it as I thought,” I said.

“Yeah, well, shit’s getting
crazier.”

“Why’s that?”

“Ari called and Uncle Jakey heard
that we were riding with our cuts.”

“Good.”

“He’s pissed.”

“He’s going to take the head of the
table, Slam,” I said. “I’m sitting to the left.”

“No shit, brother. Congrats.”

Slam came in for a hug and I put my
hand to his chest. “Wait a second. You’re wearing the enforcer patch.”

Slam’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“That’s what’s decided,” I said. “You
ready for this?”