Page 60 of Misguided
He smiles, ducking his chin. “Yep. I know.” A beat passes before he continues. “What makes it so appealing now, then? Need to let off some steam?”
“Need to get away, really. Find some space to breathe.” I shrug one shoulder. “When you’re legally dead and supposed to keep a low profile, assimilating into everyday life is sort of hard.”
He nods, huffing out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I get that.” I eye the cuff on his wrist as he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m just not sure Dog’s the best choice for a getaway partner.”
“Because of his reputation?”
Crackers levels me with a take-no-shit stare. “Because of his proclivities.”
“Big word,” I tease, trying to break the tension.
“Topic calls for it,” he drawls. “If you think that’s what you need, though, I’m not going to stop you.” He lifts both hands. “I’m just urgin’ you to be careful, is all.”
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I say, imploring Crackers with my eyes. “I managed to keep busy this morning with a project, but staring at the same walls every day is taking its toll. Cabin fever, you know?”
“You spent a whole year in one spot,” he says with a chuckle. “I would have thought you had that whole starin’ at the same shit thing squared away by now.”
“Ahh, but there’s a difference.” I cock one eyebrow. “Out there, I had no choice but to stay where I was. Here, the whole world is at the end of that driveway, teasing me.”
“Big change, coming back here from the woods, ain’t it?”
“Huge.” I sigh, sliding down in the seat. “I miss how peaceful it was out there, nature and all that, but at the same time I don’t miss being cut off from everyone and everything.”
“A lot less drama, though, I bet.”
I tip my head to agree. “Yeah. That’s true. But I think what struck me the most is how much things can change in fourteen months, you know? The club’s not what it was when I left. It’s sad.”
“Hey.” Crackers leans forward, reaching out over the desk. I sit up and let him take my hand in his. “Everyone needs time to heal, Mel. And that includes the Fallen Aces. Our people have been through hell and back these past two years, and they need time to adjust to the changes as much as you and I do.” He sighs, sinking back in his chair again. “In some ways, I’m glad your old man ain’t here to see it. He had his set habits, ideals, and the way things are shapin’ up now, the future of our club isn’t what he had in mind.”
“I know.” I completely agree with what he’s saying—Daddy would be turning in his grave, wherever that may be, if he knew what King’s done with the Lincoln chapter, how that’s influenced our own.
I sat down with Murphy a few nights ago and had a long conversation about the club. He didn’t delve into specifics, but he gave me the general premise: the future isn’t in strong-arm tactics and drugs anymore. If we want to survive long-term, we need to make ourselves less of a target, and that means seeking out legitimate ways to build income. It means stepping away from the pull of fast and easy cash, tipping the scales in the favor of above board investments.
The money might not be as great with roots in small business, but the repercussions are less.
“Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help with this mess Hooch has himself in?”
Crackers smiles sadly. I can read it in his eyes: how he wishes he had something for me, if not to keep me involved, but to prove that they’re doing everything they can to bring my brother home now that Mighty in Lincoln has managed to get the sheriff’s office to look the other way.
“I’m sorry. If I know of anythin’, I’ll let you know.”
“Yeah, okay.” I stand and pat my hands against my legs. “One last question.”
“Anythin’.” Crackers laces his hands over his stomach.
“Do you have a spare gun I could use?”
He stares at me, wide-eyed. “For hunting?”
“Target practice. Somebody told me I was a lousy shot hitting that agent three times, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to sharpen my skills.”
He sighs, eyes narrowed. “I’m not all that comfortable just handin’ it over to you unsupervised.”
“Come on, Crackers.” I sigh. “You aren’t going to turn into Daddy now, are you?”
He smirks as he reaches to his left and unlocks a drawer. I stand silent as he then proceeds to pull out a handgun and a box of bullets. “You need me to load it?”
I shake my head. “I know that much. Killed time in the woods by pulling apart the gun I had with me and learning how it all worked.” I shrug. “Just a lousy shot, is all.”
He explains the whole thing to me anyway, pointing out the safety, how to load it, what to do if it jams. Satisfied I’m not about to run down the driveway and into town to go on a murderous rampage, he hands the weapon over with a sigh.
“Head down to that stand of trees at the far right. You know the one; has that rusted old bike leaned up against the stump.”
“Yeah, I know where you mean.” I made tree houses with Dana down there when we were kids.
“Come back and check in with me when you’re done, okay?”
“Yeah, sure thing.” I reach for the handle as I step out the door. “Thanks again.”
“Got all the time in the world for you, sweetheart.”