Houston tried yelling at them to get his attention but no one noticed him. Their own shouts and accusations took up all the space. He didn’t know what to do. For whatever reason two people were about to die and he had to do something to stop them.
He ran back outside and around the front to his bedroom window. His plan was to get into the house behind his mother and disarm her before she ever saw him.
He didn’t even make it halfway through his room before a gunshot shattered the fight. Houston tore through the house and down the hall, bursting into the living room. His mother was on the floor not moving. Her eyes open and a bullet hole between them.
“So what do you think?”
Axel’s question broke Houston free from the memories pulling him under, allowing him to refocus on the present instead of the past.
“Huh?” He missed some of what Axel said.
“Didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You were thinking about that night.”
It wasn’t really a question and Houston didn’t bother to answer. None of their lives had been the same after that night. Especially his.
“I think about it a lot too.”
Both of them sat in silence for a few minutes staring at the house.
“Why don’t you go stay at one of the safe houses? We don’t use them much anymore.”
Houston shook his head. “It’s time to deal with this.” He opened the truck door and climbed out. “I appreciate the ride.”
“How bout we meet at Bubba’s later? The club can buy you a beer or three. Talk some business.”
“I didn’t want to get into this yet, but you gotta know I ain’t interested in becoming Wrath. That’s my past and I need to keep moving forward.”
“Club’s not like it used to be. You should hear JD out.”
“I don’t see changing my mind.”
Axel nodded, but Houston knew the expectations were far from over. “You can still come by for that beer.”
“I’ll see how it goes.” After he faced a few ghosts he had a feeling he might need that beer to get straight again. Nothing like a good buzz and some nice pussy to put things back into perspective.
“Consider it a summons. Here. You’re gonna need these.” Axel tossed a set of keys he caught with one hand. “Check the garage.”
Houston looked at the keys and his friend with sarcasm burning his tongue. Summons his ass. Ultimately he decided what the fuck, whatever their game was he didn’t want to get into it now. He grabbed his bag and turned to the house. Time to man the fuck up and get this shit over with.
Houston entered the house as uneventfully as he left it. It was exactly as he remembered. Except instead of the stale, dust covered time capsule he expected, the house was clean with a lemony fresh scent. He shook his head. Another club thing. Probably one of the old lady’s ideas. He’d bet if he went in the kitchen and opened the fridge there’d be cold beer and sandwich fixings too.
The club took care of their own and the fact that he’d worn a Wrath cut only briefly, didn’t matter. He was family. No, as his dad liked to remind him growing up, he was the Wrath prince.
Houston rubbed his sore leg as he walked toward the bedrooms. There wasn’t shit about him that was princely. He’d opted to leave all of this behind and never look back. He had a wild notion he wasn’t anything like his father and the best thing he could do for his life was leave and never return. That worked for a cool decade. A decade in which he’d gone from smart mouthed teenager looking to prove a point to stone cold killer who liked to spend most of his time alone on the side of a mountain or in a jungle hole with a view or anywhere he had a rifle in his hands and a job to do.
He pushed into his bedroom and looked around. Hard to believe this tiny ten-by-eleven room held so many memories. He dropped his bag on the bed and followed it down. Surprisingly, the little house didn’t make him nearly as sad as he expected. His mother’s violent death marred some of the memories, but there was a lot more good to remember than bad. He and his brother spent a lot of years trailing their father to the clubhouse and back again.
They all worked on motorcycles together many weekends and there were a shit load of parties hosted in their backyard or at the mill. Houston looked down at the keys still clutched in his hand and remembered Axel’s instructions to check the garage.
Might as well…
He passed through the house again, quickening his pace a fraction as he passed the living room. Maybe that one spot still freaked him out a little. Resigned to take whatever came next with a grain of salt, he opened the garage door and flipped on the light.
Holy Shit.