Fuck it, who was I kidding? I wanted him as much as he wanted me. There was no denying it any longer. But this time, my heart would be safe.
Chapter Sixty-Six — Ryder
One week later.
“Cobra, it's time we started getting our funds from sources other than weapon deals. Something fucking legit that we can be proud to tell our kids about. When your kids go to school, they need something to tell their friends. And for show and tell. What do you want them to say? My father is a hardened criminal who supplies weapons so that innocent people can be killed in gang wars? I think fucking not. And now that Jade and I are getting married, I want to be able to look my kids in the eye too.”
He shrugged, a despondent look in his eyes. Dark circles underneath them and deep frown lines etched into his forehead aged him beyond his years. “I get that, but since Jamie is still missing . . .”
I swallowed hard. This was tough on Cobra, talking about kids while Jamie’s life was in the balance. But it was exactly because of all the shit that went down with the boy that it made me rethink our future. There had to be a better way and I tirelessly searched for alternatives, desperate to make a safer life for my kids. And for the other kids from my MC family—because they all deserved it.
“Stay positive, brother. We’re close to finding Jamie. Won’t it be great news for him when he comes back?”
“What are you proposing, Ryder?” He sat forward in his chair, listening intently.
“I've been thinking about that. A conversation I had with Bill gave me an idea. He was saying that in spite of tough economic times, his music business was doing just fine. I asked him how come.”
“And what did he say?”
“Told me there were a few things people always needed and spent money on, regardless of the economy. One was music—pretty obvious, because it makes people feel better. And apparently women spend a fucking fortune on lipstick. Go figure.” I didn’t always understand how people’s minds worked, but I wasn’t going to argue with smart and successful businessmen who obviously knew what they were doing.
“So, what the fuck does that have to do with us? I can’t sing for shit, and we ain’t making lipstick.”
I actually laughed. It felt good. “Nope, asshole, I’m getting to my point.”
“Hurry up then.”
“The other thing is food. Everybody needs to eat.”
He didn’t appear impressed with my revelation. “Yeah, so?”
“Well, I was thinking what a mean steak Ox makes every time we have a barbeque. I think it's time we open a steakhouse.”
He looked at me as if I needed to be locked away. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Just because Ox makes a great steak doesn’t mean we know the first thing about running a business.”
“Yes, we do. Planning . . . negotiating . . . managing. It's all the fucking same, regardless of what business we are in. Think about it.”
Cobra rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I see your point. But we’d need help.” At least he was warming up to the idea now, and listening to me without the frown between his brows.
“Just happens to be that I’m connected to two fucking ace businessmen. Max and Bill will gladly help us if we decide to do legit business. I’ve already spoken to them about it, and both think it can work.”
“Who’s going to manage it?”
“Me. I want to. Now my leg is fucked, I don’t wanna do long bike runs any more. And I don’t want to go anywhere without Jade. I'm talking about opening a chain of steakhouses all over the country, so it needs full-time management.”
“You have thought about this, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. Since what happened to Mia and Jade . . . and Jamie, I can’t stomach the thought of my family being in harm’s way. I know I’ll never be completely out of the danger zone. Some crazy fuckers will always be after me because of my past, but hey, I'm willing to give it a shot.”
“Starting a business in these economic times is risky. And where do we get the funds, Mr. Moneybags, if we don’t do the weapons deals? Thought of that?”
“Yes, in fact, I have. Both Bill and Max are prepared to put up money in exchange for shares of the business. They think we can turn our notoriety into a success story. I mean, who wouldn’t want a steak cooked for them by a mean-ass biker?”
“I know Mia will be relieved. She’s been nagging me to slow down. Says she doesn’t care about the money—she’ll live in a shoebox if that means I stay alive.” He sucked on his cigar, the guilty pleasure he still indulged in from time to time.