Extreme Measures Page 4

  After a few seconds of quiet, Jo jumps in. “They want him to take some tests.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  My tone must get under Brendan’s skin. He slams his palm against the table, drawing Herc out from the dark corner, with his large mouth overflowing with beef and vegetables.

  I throw my hand up in the air, signaling for him to stand down. “Boy, you got something you wanna say?”

  “Yeah,” Brendan screams. “This is bullshit.” He bows up at me.

  “You sure this is the way you wanna play it, son?”

  He fumes. “Don’t call me that.”

  “You’re dismissed from the table. Leave. Now.” All the air is sucked out of the dining room.

  “Oh, I’ll leave alright.”

  I scoff at his dare. “Where you gonna go? Back to Val? She doesn’t want you back. How about that, tough guy?” My vast chest seethes with steam.

  “Hey, Prez, you might wanna take a beat.” Billy breaks the tension.

  “Babe,” Jolene whispers as she rests her hand on my tight bicep. “Please.”

  I stare into Brendan’s wild eyes, light blue and blazing with anger. His fists are balled up, clenched at his sides. He wants to hit me, just like he did Val.

  “Go ahead. If you think I won’t hit you back, you’re wrong.”

  That’s when I see his hard expression fade. He believes me, and it’s a good thing too because I planned on following through on my end.

  He slowly withdraws, backing down. “Smart move. Now, sit back down and eat your goddamn taco. Tomorrow you’ll go down and take those tests, and you’ll try your damnedest, you got that?”

  He shrugs and rolls his eyes.

  “Babe, can I talk to you for a second? Out there?” Jolene points her thumb toward the living room.

  I just want to eat my fucking tacos, but I follow her anyway because it’s Jolene.

  My queen.

  When we’re alone, I attempt to caress her tanned shoulders, but she moves out of reach.

  “How could you do that to him?” Her eyes are wild like big, blue saucers. “And in front of everyone like that!”

  “He sat down, didn’t he?”

  “He was too embarrassed to do anything else,” she proclaims.

  “Don’t give me that shit, Jo. Seriously, the kid needs some tough love. You signed me up for this without giving me a chance to agree. The least you can do is let me handle shit my own way.” I don’t like the way she stares at me.

  “Fine, you can take him to the school tomorrow. His first test starts at nine.” She turns her back on me and storms away.

  I contemplate going back into the kitchen but decide against it when I hear new chatter breathe life back into the room. I don’t want to ruin what’s left of family supper, so I head straight out the front door and into the bar.

  “What can I get ya, Prez?” Bear asks from behind the metal counter.

  “Jameson. The bottle.”

  Bear plants the green bottle down after pouring the extra-large shot. “Everything ok next door?”

  “Not really. Guess you heard about my kid brother.” I drain the glass.

  He nods and pours a second round. “Yeah, Jessa told me a little about it. Nice enough kid.”

  “He’s a fucking mess. He’s got my mother to thank for that.”

  “He staying for long?”

  “That’s the thing. It’s permanent, but damn, he’s such a hot head. And Jolene wants me to go easy on him. What do I look like? A fucking chump?”

  “Sounds like the kid needs a little tough love.”

  I snicker. “Yeah, that’s what I said. You’re a father. How do you do it?”

  “Well, the advice I’d give is this, the tough tactic has to be paired with love and security. You need to find a balance. There’s only one thing that’s important to a kid of any age, and that’s security.”

  “So, you think I’m doing it wrong?”

  Bear tosses the used dish towel onto the bar, holding both hands in the air. “Hey, I’m not about to tell my president he’s going about shit sideways. Fuck that shit.”

  “Yeah, that’s fair enough. Maybe something like my tactic could use a little adjustment?”

  He nods, and his unruly beard moves when he chuckles. “Yeah, maybe something like that.”

  I finish the bottle of Jameson when I decide to call it a night. More like Bear does it for me. I practically crawl back to the main house, slurring as I cuddle up to Jolene.

  “Jo, baby, you asleep?”

  “Damn, you stink. You need a shower.”

  “No, I’m sorry, sugar. I’m sorry for being such a jackass. I’m sorry for making you feel bad.” I know we’re going to be ok when she ruffles the top of my head before pulling my face up to meet hers. My insides melt to a liquid puddle when she grazes my lips with hers.

  “Yep, you need to go take a shower. You ain’t sleeping in my bed.” She slaps me on the ass, and I know what’s waiting for me. I jump up, dragging my loose jeans around my ankles and hop my way to the bathroom for the quickest whore bath known to man.

  *

  “I think there’s only one acceptable option.” The principal sits in a chair opposite the three of us where we wait to discuss Brendan’s test results.

  “And what would that be?” Jolene asks. Last night, I begged her to help me with my brother, claiming he needs both extremes. Tough and kind, just like us. I pulled out all the stops. Who gives a shit if it was all slurred? The intention was the same.

  So, here she sits at my side, and we present as a solid team. A family.

  “Well, I would suggest that Mr. Baird repeat his freshman year.”

  Brendan grimaces, slumping back in the chair. His face is red and flushed.

  “There’s no other option?” Jo leans forward in her chair, placing a hand on Brendan’s arm.

  I notice the way his entire body tenses.

  “I’m afraid not.” The woman looks down her nose at us, and it makes me want to punch a woman for the very first time.

  “Isn’t there a class or something he can take?”

  You can nearly feel the heat radiating off his youthful frame. Anger and rage. He’s trying to keep it under control.

  He’s trying.

  “Look,” I start and clear my throat. “My brother hasn’t had an easy time of it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but…”

  I quickly cut her off. “Let me get this out.” I snap. “Please, he’s had a real hard time, and the boy’s looking for a fresh start. He’s here to try to make something of his life. Don’t rob him of that chance. Holding him back would only fuel his thought that no one cares. You can help give him a leg up. You have an opportunity to do the right thing here, and really help the kid.”

  Jolene stares ahead as if we’d rehearsed the entire speech a hundred different times, but I see the hint of a grin twitching in the deep corners of her hard expression.

  Brendan keeps his head down, but I notice when he releases his death grip on the chair. It causes my heart to swell.

  The woman gawks at me as she leans back in her fancy leather seat. She appears deep in thought, and I hope that’s a good thing. The principal twists her lips, directing her gaze between each of our faces.

  “Ok, here’s what we can do.” She sits up straight, folding her hands together on the desk. “We can allow Brendan advancement into the tenth grade if he’s willing to take remedial classes for English and Math.”

  Brendan gets ready to protest, but I jump in first. “Oh, he agrees.” I glance over at Jolene who now carries a full-blown smile, and I feel good.

  We’re able to leave Brendan at school for the day. Now, it’s time to get down to some real business. “Church, now!”

  All the brothers jump to their feet and snake up The Clubhouse stairs.

  Stoner’s the last one in, and he pulls the door closed tight. Duke and Billy stare at me. Clint is knee deep in conversation talking to Herc,
who just nods in return.

  “Do you want the prospects, Prez?”

  “Yeah, call them in here.”

  A few seconds later Bear and Hawkeye stand off to the back corner.

  “We have a problem.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jolene

  I expected a little more of a celebration, or maybe it was alone time with my motorcycle man. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I come out a loser on both ends.

  He calls church the moment we walk into The Clubhouse. Everyone wearing an X patch jumps to their feet. He drags me to his side and plants his hot, furry lips to my neck.

  Twenty minutes later and the club scrambles around, getting ready for a night away from home.

  “You won’t be back until tomorrow?”

  Ronin peers down at me, and I just want to trail soft kisses over his dark lashes. I notice the hungry glint in his eyes, and I know he wants me. Having to leave is tearing him up, just as it is me.

  Somehow, that notion makes me feel a little better.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Got some people to meet and shit to take care of. Then, we’re gonna meet up with the San Clemente chapter. You good here? Good with Brendan on your own?”

  “Yeah, I think so. And, when am I ever really on my own? Besides, I can’t wait to hear about his first day.”

  “Babe, I wouldn’t be so excited about it. He’s probably not gonna be as happy.”

  If only he knew how spot on he actually was.

  *

  I spend my afternoon working on the books for the bar, on pins and needles waiting for Brendan to get home from school.

  “You’re acting like a real mom or some shit. You’re such a little Ruth.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” I bundle the cash in the bank bag, zipping it and locking it with the key.

  Patsy enters carrying a bottle of champagne, popping the cork and pouring three glasses.

  “What’s this about?”

  She smiles so big that her cheeks ball up all the way to her eyes. “Well, um…” She pauses and sticks out her hand.

  A wedding band.

  “What?” I shout.

  Jessa follows my gaze, steering her eyes away from the ring and up to meet her friend’s beaming face. “You got married?”

  “Yep, this morning.” Patsy’s head bobs up and down in a rush. “Can you believe it?”

  “No!” Jessa bounds up to her feet. “Not without us.”

  Patsy lowers her gaze. “I know. I really wish you guys had been there. But we just couldn’t help ourselves. And we didn’t want a fuss or to be a distraction to the club.

  “Are you kidding me?” My chin hangs wide. “The club can use all the good news we can get. No, this calls for a party. Tomorrow night after the guys are back.”

  Jessa’s face lights up, and I see the way her brain kicks into overdrive, plotting. “Hell, yes! It’s about time we have a family shindig. Shit!”

  My giddy heart swells in my chest. Things feel good. Too good.

  That’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise when Brendan barrels through the back door, stomping up the stairs in full sulking mode. A hoodie and earbuds with his hands shoved in his pockets. It’s all the kid ever does.

  I do not miss being a teenager.

  *

  I give Brendan some time to himself and help the bitches with the spaghetti dinner.

  I’m slathering garlic butter on a couple loaves of sourdough when the young kid mopes through the kitchen, dropping in one of the dining chairs.

  I decide to seize the opportunity. “How was the first day of school?”

  He sits staring into his lap, oblivious to me or anyone else in the room, prompting me to pluck the buds from his ears, sending him scrambling.

  “What the hell?” He snatches the wire from my hand. “Don’t touch my shit.”

  “Hey, watch how you speak to me, please. Maybe you need to lose the headphones and try an actual conversation. Now, I was asking about school.”

  “It was fine, God. Why do you hover so much?”

  “Could it possibly be because you need hovering? Did you start your tutorial courses?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it!” He shouts, screaming at me as he marches right out the door.

  “Hey, get back here!” I yell, and it sends Hawkeye to pop his head in the screen door to the backyard where he’s blazing up a joint.

  “Everything ok?” He asks.

  “No, go follow the kid.”

  He furrows his brow. “But, I’m supposed to stay here and keep you safe. I’m not supposed to take my eyes off you.”

  “I’m giving you an order. Don’t make me call Ronin. So, you better get on with it before you lose him.” I fold my arms over my chest in defiance.

  Hawkeye gives me a solid stare before disappearing, taking off after Brendan.

  He’s gone for hours. I’m in the kitchen going over year-end tax forms to keep my mind busy when I hear the rumble of Hawkeye’s motorcycle. I pop up and pull back the shades, relieved to see Brendan tugging off a bucket.

  He’s home. Safe.

  It’s crazy to think how quickly I stepped into Ruth’s gigantic shoes.

  He opens the door, spots me, and turns to bound up the steps two at a time.

  “Goodnight,” I holler after him. I don’t get a response, but I’m ok with that. We’ll get there.

  “Thanks,” I say to the prospect. The scarecrow really came through.

  “It’s cool. He went to the park. Nowhere else. The cops showed up and told him to move on, so I stepped in and gave him a lift back. Seems like a good kid.”

  I nod in agreement. It’s just a matter of penetrating that steel wall.

  “You did good,” I say, and he eats up my words.

  “Thanks.” He lights a joint, slipping back out the front door for his night watch.

  *

  I place the plate of blueberry pancakes in front of Brendan. He’s busy shoving books into his backpack, and when he sees me, he pulls out the tiny earbuds.

  “Ready for a good day?”

  He nods, and I see an opening. “You know, Brendan, you can’t talk to me the way you did yesterday. It’s not acceptable, and I won’t allow it.”

  “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

  I freeze when he apologizes, and the breath stalls in my windpipe. My heart smiles thinking about the leeway we’re making. “Thanks for that. Now, how about today? You ready?”

  “I guess. Can Hawkeye give me a ride?”

  “Sure.”

  And with that, he snatches a handful of pancakes and grins his first, real grin since moving in, and I feel like it’s going to be a good day.

  Not to mention, Ronin will be home.

  *

  “Shit, it looks like a bridal magazine threw up in here.” Patsy spins, taking in all the reception decorations, and I see the hint of a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth.

  She’s excited.

  Jessa bought out everything white and lacy in all of Jericho. She’s managed to hang tulle and bunting on all the chairs. The tables are covered with red and white rose petals, and every station has a floral centerpiece.

  It’s so pretty that I kind of want to vomit.

  “This is just too much, you guys.” Patsy gives me and my sister both generous hugs.

  Hawkeye and Bear have been on brisket duty. With all the wedding bullshit in the air, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jessa and Bear are next.

  My mouth waters as I pull out the massive, foil pan of baked beans with maple bacon sizzling on top. My sister’s turning out to be quite the cook.

  “Beer on ice?” I ask her.

  “And full liquor bottles lined up ready to go.”

  “I can’t believe our Clint is married. Like married for real.”

  Jessa shakes her shaggy, short curls. “I know. It’s mind-blowing. I knew he was a big, old softy, but he and Patsy took me by surprise.”

  “Yeah, but I k
ind of love it.”

  She giggles. “Me too. Ok, I’m off to make some coleslaw. I’m so hungry, I can’t stand it.”

  “Damn, I know. Is Bear bringing the girls tonight?”

  “Nah, it’s probably not that kind of party. He’s taking a quick break from the grill to pick them up from school and drop them off at the sitter.”

  “Ah, I was hoping they could meet Brendan.” I pivot when the back door creaks. “And speak of the devil, how was class, kid?”

  “Fine,” he says curt and hurried. “I’m gonna go do my homework.”

  “Yeah, ok.”

  He doesn’t seem to be happy about a party or Ronin coming home. I’m ready though. More than ready when I hear the familiar, thunderous roar of the club backing up to the curb.

  My heart beats, hammering against my sternum. I dash outside and lay eyes on my man. My president. My lover. I don’t know if it’s setting up for the courthouse wedding reception, but I feel all mushy with heat rumbling deep in my belly.

  I hurry past the crew who are all claiming their bitches for the night. I’m taken too. I swing my arms, tangling them around Ronin’s neck.

  “I didn’t sleep a wink.”

  “But, I gave you the whole bed.” He teases me, and it pries a giggle loose.

  “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

  He grips the back of my neck with a firm hand, guiding my mouth to his.

  I melt, and he feels like heaven. My own personal heaven.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ronin

  The table is surrounded by six, clean-cut deacon wannabes. And, these men aren’t the deacon or elder types. They’re the real church board. The ones in charge. The ones who make the real decisions.

  We meet in an out of the way Taqueria, making certain to stay off the town’s radar. We don’t exactly look like a prayer meeting in action.

  “I’m guessing you’ve had enough time to discuss our little ultimatum?” I chomp down half a pork taco, wiping the leftover grease from my beard with a napkin.

  “You haven’t exactly left us much of a choice.”

  I track the words back to a six-foot cowboy with a bad handlebar mustache, pushing sixty, at least.