One Eye (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ ATLANTIC CITY (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 3) Read online

  Granted, I have a few days before they head out. We are throwing them a farewell party and I hope I live to see it.

  Boomer doesn’t look happy with me at all.

  Once the last person leaves Church, he shuts the door, then leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He is young for a Prez, but he knows his shit. He learned a lot from Reaper, his stepfather, and the Prez of the Vegas chapter.

  “What the hell is going on with you, One-Eye? I need you focused, especially with us getting into business with O’Crowely. I need every member alert. So what is going on with you?” He pulls out a chair and spins it around, straddling it. His arms cross along the top edge of the seat, the serious wrinkle between his brows telling me he means business, but he hasn’t brought up a punishment yet for my being absent mentally in the MC.

  My eye socket is suddenly irritating the hell out of me. I take off my eyepatch and rub the socket. “Sorry, Prez. I know it isn’t pretty to look at it, but it’s killing me.” I don’t wear my glass eye anymore. It’s too uncomfortable when it rubs against the scar tissue.

  “It doesn’t bother me. Get comfortable. You know it doesn’t matter to me, One-Eye, don’t apologize. You don’t have to hide yourself here, but I do need to know if I need to appoint a new road captain. I need my best guys, One-Eye. What we’re getting into is dangerous. We have women here and I can’t risk them because your head isn’t in the game.”

  My heart plummets when I hear him talk about a new road captain. I love my position and the thought of anyone else having it ticks me off. “No, I can be there. I’m sorry. Don’t give my position to someone else. I’ve been preoccupied because of Alicia.” And now when I say it out loud, it sounds fucking stupid. How can I be so preoccupied with a woman? I’m a grown man. I should be able to let the heartache roll off my shoulders.

  But I know why I can’t.

  She’s in my bones, in the core of my being. Alicia dug herself deep and she latched on. I’m unable to shake her.

  Alicia impacted me in ways no one ever has before. I miss that. I got used to being someone she loved because no one has ever loved me the way she did.

  I want it back.

  I expect Boomer to roll his eyes or to punch me in the face. My old Prez would have strung me up and called me a fucking pussy for thinking with my heart. I’d probably get my one good eye burned out. But like always, Boomer surprises me. He lands a hand on my shoulder and squeezes while the hardness around his eyes disappears.

  He isn’t cruel, but I know he can be. It’s how he chooses to use that cruelty inside him that makes me respect him more than I’ve ever really respected a Prez before.

  “One-Eye, I get it. Women are the strongest beings on this planet. Just think of how much power they have over us. Scarlett has changed me in ways I’ll never be able to explain. Kansas is fucking gone for Violet. And Wolf…”

  He trails off, but I nod, knowing exactly what he means. Wolf has still had a really hard time adjusting ever since Abigale’s death. It’s like his heart shattered into a million little pieces and he would rather just sit there in the wreckage instead of picking them up.

  Can’t say I blame him.

  Boomer clears his throat and continues. “Anyway, they get our soft sides, the sides we don’t ever show anyone else. They get the pain of what we feel when we hide it away. They get the vulnerability. They take care of us when we can’t take care of ourselves. Being strong all the time is exhausting, One-Eye. I don’t expect my brothers to not be affected by the bullshit life brings. It’s unreasonable. But I do expect them to have the ability to push it to the side when I need them to, then deal with it when business is done.”

  “I understand, Prez. I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

  “Have you talked to her?” he asks.

  “No. I miss Kimmy too. She was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter. The timing was horrible when Alicia and I met. We both had to tackle a few demons, but I knew when we ended, that was it. People never get back together. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  “It isn’t up to life to create opportunities, One-Eye. It’s up to you.”

  I hate it when he makes sense. “What do you suggest?”

  “Get back out there. Try to see if she’s what you really want. Maybe she was just a love in your life that helped you for the next one. That’s okay too. Learning experiences and all that shit.” He grabs a joint from his pocket and lights it, inhaling deeply before passing it to me.

  I take a long puff and I’ll be damned if the door doesn’t swing open a second later. Homer is standing there, sniffing the air.

  “I smell weed,” he announces, licking his lips.

  The man loves his pot. It’s kind of funny.

  “You don’t puff puff pass, why should they? Go get your own. Isn’t that what you say?” Arrow yells at Homer from across the room somewhere and Boomer groans. Those two are always at each other’s throats.

  “Fuck you. I’m the oldest here, which comes with different rules than you young bucks.”

  “Bullshit. Just because you’re older than the sand outside doesn’t mean you get special treatments,” Arrow quips.

  Boomer leans back and closes his eyes, taking another long drag of the tightly rolled joint to relax as we listen to the members bickering like an old married couple.

  “The hell it don’t. I’ve experienced more, seen more, done more, than any of you infants,” Homer spits.

  “You’re being an entitled brat,” Arrow replies in a flat tone.

  Boomer sighs. “If you two don’t shut the hell up, I’m putting you into time out like the children you’re being. I’ll make you put your nose in a damn corner to think about your actions.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Homer narrows his eyes as he studies Boomer.

  “Try me. I’m sick of you two fighting all the damn time. It gives me a headache. For the rest of the day, you aren’t allowed to talk to each other and if you do, I’ll throw firecrackers down your damn pants. That’s an order.”

  “You’d do that to an old man?”

  “Don’t use that age card on me, Homer,” Boomer warns, standing from the chair. “Last I checked, regardless of age, it’s me in charge. No one else. Either listen and put on your damn big boy pants, or we are going to have issues.”

  “Fine. Keep him away from me.” Homer points to Arrow.

  Arrow squints, stabbing his juice box with the straw before angrily drinking. “I don’t want—” Arrow snaps his mouth shut when he thinks better of it.

  “Good. I’m glad one of you knows how to listen. One-Eye, you good?” Boomer pushes the seat where it belongs and lifts a sandy blonde brow at me.

  “Yeah, Prez. Thanks.”

  “Whenever you need to talk, my door is always open. No one suffers alone, okay?”

  I nod. “You got it, Prez.”

  “Hey, Prez?” Pulse knocks on the door and Boomer’s head swings around when he sees the doctor standing there. “Can we talk in private?” he asks, his tone serious.

  Boomer begins to rub his temples. “Yeah, Pulse. We can talk. One-Eye, I need the room.”

  “Sure.” I want to ask what is going on, but I know it isn’t any of my business, so I decide to swallow my question as I lift myself from the chair. “If you need anything, let me know. You know, if you need to talk too,” I offer, knowing he probably won’t take me up on my advice, but I wanted to extend the same kindness he did for me.

  “Thanks, One-Eye. I might take you up on that.”

  I head out the door, grabbing Homer by his cut and dragging him away from the room. He is a Nosy freaking Nancy. Pulse dips into the room and shuts the door. Boomer pulls the blinds so we can’t see what’s going on and a few of the guys share a curious look.

  Boomer shares everything. He never hides what is going on, so whatever this is must be personal. Worry sets in. What if something is wrong with him or Scarlett? I don’t know what we’d do. We finally have a g
ood thing going, a great leader, and his ol’ lady is amazing. We are growing as a club. We have a business opening up with O’Crowely, a great motorcycle shop, and customizations are coming in hot.

  We have everything we have ever wanted and now I’m nervous that will be taken away if something happens to either Boomer or Scarlett.

  “Take me to Bingo,” Homer demands instead of asks. “I got a good feeling about tonight.”

  Arrow opens his mouth to say something smart, but I cut him off with one look. His jaw snaps closed, and he sips his damn juice box to remain quiet.

  “Can’t someone else take you? Like Bane, Warden, Colt, Wolf? Literally anyone else but me?”

  “I don’t want anyone else. I want you, damn it,” Homer huffs and grabs the truck keys off the hook.

  His vision has taken a turn and he can’t ride his bike anymore.

  “Fine. Jesus. I’m playing Bingo too.”

  “If you win, I get half.”

  “Bullshit, Homer.”

  “The way you lot treat your elders is deplorable.”

  “Yeah, well, your attitude is far from being considered elder.” I slam the door behind me and the warm air circles around me. The waves crash in the background, and I close my eyes for a minute, remembering the time I walked on the beach with Alicia and Kimmy. Kimmy picked up every shell she could find, and Alicia’s hand was small and fragile in mine.

  Memories fucking hurt.

  “Well. Come on. I don’t want to be late.”

  I roll my eye and head toward the truck, hopping in the driver’s seat.

  “Mother fucker,” Homer curses, unable to lift himself into the truck.

  He always puts on a brave face, but I know his age is bothering him. He can’t do the things he used to do.

  “Need help, Homer?”

  “No. I don’t need your help. I’m fine,” he spits, grabbing the plastic handle above the seat and pushing his foot against the step under the side of the truck. He grunts as he tries again, and his eyes widen as he begins to fall backward. I’m already in my seat and I stretch as far as I can to snag his hand, but he is too far.

  “Homer!” I shout just as a pair of hands wrap around him before he hits the pavement.

  The hands lift Homer into the truck and his face is white as a sheet. Once he’s settled, I see Arrow there. They don’t say a word to one another because of pride, but Homer does give him a nod. Arrow slams the door shut and takes a step back, concern wrinkling the sides of his mouth as he frowns.

  I know Arrow cares about Homer, regardless of how they bicker.

  I throw the truck in reverse, stretching my arm across the back of the passenger seat and turning my head. “Good thing Arrow was there or instead of Bingo, we’d be going to the hospital.”

  He snaps his lips as he buckles his seatbelt. “I guess he isn’t too much of a shitbag then,” he grumbles. My lips tilt to the side. I know he doesn’t mean that.

  “Yeah, I guess he ain’t too bad.” I pull out of the parking lot with a grin on my face and head in the direction of the bingo hall. AC/DC starts playing on the radio, I turn up the volume and roll down the windows to get some fresh air in here. What I love about Atlantic City is how it isn’t humid. It always feels just right.

  Homer is quiet on the ride there and when we get to the tiny bingo hall, I expect him to jump out of the truck, but he doesn’t move.

  “You okay, Homer?” I jerk the truck in park and shut off the engine.

  He exhales and stares at his aged hands with dark spots all over them. “Can you help me out?” he asks sadly. I know that had to take a lot out of him just to ask.

  “I’d be glad to, Homer. Just stay there.” I unclick my seatbelt and jump out of the truck, slam the door, and hurry around the front.

  Homer clicks the handle and swings the door open. He sags in the seat with wounded pride as I pick him up and set him on the ground.

  “You good?”

  “I guess,” he says, depressed.

  I’m sure it isn’t easy realizing that you are unable to do certain things and might need help. “Come on, Homer. Let’s win some big money. I’ll make a bet with you.”

  “What kind?” He perks up when I don’t press him further.

  “If I win, you ask that sweet lady Elise out on a date. If you win, I’ll get you that water bong you’ve been wanting.”

  His eyes light up and then those deep crow’s feet show as he frowns. “I don’t know if I’m ready to ask her out.”

  “So you’re saying you’re going to lose? Maybe I’ll ask her out. Her silver hair is gorgeous,” I tease him.

  His bottom lip puckers out as he grinds his teeth. “You’ll do no such thing.” He shuffles ahead of me, and I toss my head back and laugh. He enters through the door before me, but a hot pink flyer grabs my attention.

  It’s attached to a pillar, and I walk over to see what it says.

  Speed dating. See if you can find your match. Drinks. Food. And love.

  Come at your own risk.

  My stomach turns at the thought of dating another woman, but maybe Boomer is right.

  Maybe it’s time to put my past behind me, move on from my first love, and see what the universe has in store for me.

  To get what I want, I have to create my own opportunities.

  I take a picture of the flyer to remember the address.

  But what about Alicia?

  She’s the only opportunity I want.

  “You have a call on line two,” my boss tells me, peeking over his glasses. “You know how I feel about personal calls at work.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Lancer. Whoever it is, I’ll make sure to tell them not to call this number.” I wipe my mouth and toss my napkin in the trash, my lunch cut short. I don’t understand why someone would call my work number and not my cellphone.

  I run to the front desk and realize I left my purse out here when I went on my lunch break. I check my phone and close my eyes in annoyance when I see my cell is dead. Damn it. I’m lucky I got this job, and I don’t even know how I did. Mr. Lancer isn’t exactly the kindest man, but he took a chance on me even though I had no experience. He is tough and has strict rules. He doesn’t tolerate tardiness or anything that interrupts the day.

  Like personal calls.

  I pick up the phone and press the button for line two. “This is Alicia.”

  Mr. Lancer side-eyes me before heading back into his office. This is a small chiropractic office. He takes appointments one at a time and is the only practitioner here. I like that the patients aren’t numbers. He spends time with them, explaining in detail what is wrong and what needs to be fixed. Each patient takes up to an hour and every day I hear massive cracks and pops.

  It’s satisfying.

  “This is Janet Silvers, the principal at Parkside North Elementary School. I’m calling about Kimmy,” she explains.

  I sag in the chair and rub my thumbs over my eyebrows. “What did she do?”

  The large sigh on the other end of the phone tells me whatever it is, it isn’t good. Ever since One-Eye and I stopped dating, Kimmy has been acting out. I knew it was important for her to have a good father figure in her life. Now that he isn’t, she’s been so angry.

  I don’t know how to fix it. Bringing men in and out of her life isn’t an option, so I’ve decided I am not going to date again, at least not seriously. No one will meet Kimmy.

  “She got into a fight with another student and broke his nose. I’m sorry, but she is suspended for two weeks. Violence is not tolerated here.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Excuse me?” the principal asks.

  “I’m asking what the young boy did for my daughter to jump to that action. It’s unlike her. So I’m asking, what did he do?” I question, feeling defensive for my daughter. I don’t want to believe Kimmy would hit someone for no reason—if so, I have no idea what to do. This is new to me, and as a single parent, it isn’t like I have a lot of options. Between the
rapy, the small apartment I have, and a babysitter when I do go to therapy, I don’t have funds to create other opportunities.

  If she needs help, I’ll gladly end my therapy so Kimmy can start hers. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does. So much has happened in her young life. She needs to talk to someone.

  “He is also suspended for a week. He made fun of her for not having a father. He said that daddy didn’t love her, and she snapped.”

  I grit my teeth together, turning my neck side to side to contain my rage.

  That little fucking asshole.

  “I see,” I mumble. “I’m on my way to get her.” I hang up the phone before I say something I regret.

  Like maybe the little shit deserved being punched in the face for saying something so mean. Kids can be so mean and heartless. Kimmy doesn’t need to be punching people and she obviously needs to handle things differently, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I was provoked. That is what that kid did. He provoked her.

  I grab my purse and sling it over my shoulder, dreading the question I have to ask Mr. Lancer. I hope I don’t lose my job. I’ve only been here for a few months, and it is a position that can easily be replaced.

  “Mr. Lancer?” I stop in his doorway and see him take off his glasses as he sits behind his desk. “I’m so sorry but my daughter’s school called. They need me to pick her up. I can come right back after I drop her off with the babysitter.” Hopefully, she is available. Maybe I need to look into a daycare program instead.

  I expect anger and lashing out, but concern drapes his face. “Is she alright?”

  “No,” I sigh. “A boy said some hurtful things, provoked her, and she broke his nose. She’s suspended.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “About her father not loving her and that’s why he isn’t around. I have a good kid, Mr. Lancer. This isn’t like her. I promise, this won’t be a regular—”

  He holds up his hand to silence me.