Lille and Henri came close to the bed, each of them rubbing their hands over their father's arms or legs. Isa sniffled and turned to the nightstand to retrieve a tissue. Henri sighed and shook his head while Lille brushed a tear from her eye.
Pa isn't gonna make it. This fucking sucks. Being in an outlaw club, Rock had seen his share of death, but looking at his dad dying and chained to the bed, broke his heart. For so long he'd hated this man, but now, knowing the truth, he felt sorry for him. The truth didn't negate that his dad was a mean sonofabitch to him, his siblings, and his beloved mother, but he didn't deserve to be punished for a crime he didn't commit while the killers roamed free.
Rock turned to his siblings. "Say your peace with Pa and then get the fuck out. I wanna be alone with him for a few minutes."
"To upset him?" Henri said. "I don't think so."
"Henri's right," Isa chimed in. "He's too sick, and I don't want you unleashing on him. This isn't the time nor the place, Roche."
He glared at them. "It's Rock," he gritted. "And I'm not going to upset him. I wouldn't have fuckin' come if I was going to do that. I wanna be alone with him. Fuckin' deal with it and get the hell out." He stood back, his arms crossed over his chest.
Henri shook his head again, then went over and whispered something Rock couldn't hear in their pa's ear. Isa and Lille followed suit, and then they filed out of the room.
Rock waited a few minutes before he approached the bed again. His father's dull eyes peeked out from red, puffy lids, following Rock's movements. He bent down low, his hand covering his dad's, and said in a hushed voice, "I just learned you didn't kill Maman. I hated you for years thinking you took her life, took her away from me, but I know better now." His father raised his eyebrows and a trickle of wetness leaked from his eyes. "I wanted you to know that. I wasted time hating you, and you wasted years doing time for something you never did. I'm fuckin' sorry about that, Pa. Fuckin' sorry." His father squeezed his hand weakly. "I'm gonna tell the others, but not until I find out who killed Maman and set you up. I promise you one thing: When I find them, I'm going to fuckin' kill ‘em."
"Merci, mon fils. Merci." His father breathed heavily as though talking had taken all his strength.
"You better wrap it up. Your time's almost over," the corrections officer said.
Rock stroked his father's cheek, then went out into the hallway and said to his siblings, "I'm done. If you want to say something more to him, go on." They shuffled back into the room.
Almost an hour later, as they drove back to Lafayette in silence, Isa received the call that their father had died. She burst into tears, Henri sucked in his breath, Lille moaned, and Rock narrowed his eyes and stared straight ahead, his stomach in hard knots.
I'm going to make good on my promise to you, Pa. I'm gonna fuckin' destroy the bastards.
* * *
"I ordered an autopsy to be done," Isa said the following morning.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see why Pa died. I saw him two weeks before and he looked great. He wasn't that old, and I want to see what took him down."
A few days later, Isa leaned against the kitchen counter. "Pa was poisoned."
Rock set his beer down. "What the fuck?"
"The autopsy report came in. It said he was filled with arsenic. Someone in the prison poisoned him. The prison officials are treating it as a crime and have turned it over to the police. Who would want to murder him?"
"When you're inside, every day is a fuckin' battlefield. I saw inmates get killed because another guy didn't like the way they walked on a particular day. Crazy shit happens." The killers wanted to make sure another loose end was tied up. Motherfuckers! They paid someone on the inside to kill the old man.
"What a sad end to a tragic chain of events. At least now we can have the funeral. This is so awful. I hope they find out who did this and punish him."
Rock nodded. Don't worry, Isa. I'll find out, and I'll fuckin' make sure they're punished.
* * *
Rock's phone vibrated against his thigh and he grinned when he saw Bones's name. "Hey, dude, what's up?"
"Not much except a group of us is here. We're staying at the Devil's Legions' clubhouse. Fuck, it was a long ride."
"What the hell? What're you doing in Lafayette?"
"We got a lot of shit to tell you. Get your ass over to the clubhouse ‘cause Hawk's called an emergency church. We'll see you in fifteen minutes. One more thing. I'm sorry about your old man, bro. That fuckin' blows. I know you hated him and all, but fuck, it still sucks."
Rock hesitated, then said, "Yeah, it fuckin' sucks ass. See you soon."
He quickly pulled his jeans on and smacked Clotille's bare ass as she watched him dress, her elbow propped on the mattress and her head in her hand. "What's up?"
"Some Insurgents came into town, and Hawk's calling an emergency church." He yanked on his boots and strode over to her, kissing her shoulder. "I'm just glad they didn't call while we were fucking." He winked at her.
"When will you be back?"
"I don't know. I'll call you. Why don't you go swimming with Isa and the kids?"
She shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I'll find something to do. I just worry about you, that's all."
He walked back over to her, fisted her hair, and pulled her head back, kissing her deeply. "That's sweet, chérie. Gotta go," he said against her lips. He picked up his keys and left the room.
It seemed surreal to be in church with only a handful of brothers in a clubhouse that wasn't the Insurgents'. After expressing the brotherhood's condolences for the death of his father, Hawk and the others caught Rock up to speed about the dealings of the Gypsy Riders and Frederick Blair. When he heard the asshole's name, his blood boiled. He then told the brothers about learning his father hadn't killed his mother, the murder of his father, and the fuckface's company owning a lot of the land in the bayou, most notably his mother's.
"I got this gnawing feeling in my gut that the rich fuck's the one who killed my mother. I bet the other guy was a Gypsy Fiend." He pounded on the table.
"Could be. I admit something's not right here. The first thing we gotta do is meet with the Gypsy Fiends' prez. Dogface, the president of the Devil's Legions, said he could arrange it." Hawk tipped his chair back. "The important thing is we gotta stop the sale of the arms to the Demon Riders. The rich fuck isn't going to give the Fiends a percentage of the profits in the sale of the weapons. We've since learned that they are buying the weapons through providing services to him like security at the casinos, extortion, roughing up some enemies, and a bunch of other shit. I'm pretty sure the Gypsy asses would like to have a lot of cash, and we can make this deal worth their time. We gotta play it cool, like this is strictly about business and not anything personal with the Demon Riders."
For the next two hours, the Insurgents talked about the execution of their plan and what they'd do if it backfired. After church was done they went into the main room of the Devil's Legions' clubhouse and met up with Dogface and some of the other members. The Devil's Legions didn't have as many members as the Insurgents, but they had a good relationship with the Gypsy Fiends, which the Insurgents were counting on to change the direction of the arms deal with their rival club.
Rock and Bones meandered to the pool tables to play a game with two Devil's Legions brothers. In that moment of camaraderie, Rock forgot about all the family drama and lost himself in the brotherhood.
* * *
Clotille sat on the big cushy chair in the screened-in back porch, the ceiling fans cooling her off. She was engrossed in a romance novel when her phone rang. Her heart leapt; she'd been waiting to hear from Rock for the past few hours, and she'd been so worried. She grabbed her phone and said breathlessly, "Rock, I've been waiting for your call."
"It's a pity I'm not the Neanderthal," Frederick's crisp voice said. "I don't think I ever heard such excitement in your voice for me."
"What do you want, Frederick?"
"You."
She exhaled loudly. "It's over. I don't get why you don't understand that."
"Because I never lose."
"This isn't a game."
"You're wrong about that, pet. This is very much a game, and I've just raised the stakes."