Piston by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Seventeen

_{He’s asking me to be a part of something he told me I’d never be a part of: club business.}

Holland

“Stay here and stay quiet.”

I nod my understanding and watch Piston walk a few feet away to talk to Joker, Riker, and Greaser. I don’t know what exactly is supposed to happen tonight, but I’m fairly certain I’m not going to like it. Nothing good ever happens in the woods, in the dark.

“We’ve got three new runners coming,” Piston says. They aren’t trying to be quiet so I don’t feel like I’m eavesdropping. “I want tonight to focus on assessment. Put them through their paces, make sure they’ll be loyal, and more importantly, put the fear of God into them so they don’t steal our fucking money.”

“Piece of cake,” Joker says, a creepy grin spreading across his face.

“Do we know anything about these guys?” Greaser asks.

“It’s not like they send us a resume,” Piston counters. “Porter vouched for them and he’s about the only runner we have that I sort of trust.”

“Porter’s a good dude,” Riker agrees. “Definitely showed us another side of himself last week. I was impressed.”

“Me too,” Piston says. “Which is why, if tonight goes well, I’d like to talk to him about prospecting for the club. If he’s half the man he seems to be, he’d make a great addition.”

Lights filter through the trees beyond the brothers, and I’m temporarily blinded by it. I hold my hand over my eyes to block some of it out and am able to see that the lights are coming from a vehicle. Correction, several vehicles.

“Here we go,” Piston says and the four of them turn to face the vehicles.

All the cars come to a stop and the engines are cut. The quiet envelopes me and I enjoy it, confident that it won’t be silent for long.

Four sets of feet exit the vehicles, and my heart skips a beat.

Four? Didn’t Piston say there would only be three?

It takes every ounce of self-control not to scream and shout at Piston to be careful. Not that he’d need the warning from me. He’s probably used to these kinds of things. Hadn’t he just told me that they always expect the unexpected?

I see the new runners come to the front of their vehicles and stop. It reminds me of a western standoff. The only thing missing are cowboy hats and dueling pistols.

“Ah, VP, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be vouching for Porter to prospect,” Joker observes after a tense few seconds.

“No shit,” Piston spits out.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I stand up, careful not to make a sound.

What the hell?

There are indeed three guys, two of whom I suspect will make good drug runners. Not that I would know what it takes to be good at that. But I would never suspect them of wrongdoing if I passed them on the street and being able to fly under the radar can’t hurt. The third isn’t as clean cut but he looks like he’s been around the criminal block a time or two.

The fourth person, that’s the issue. He is young… too young. He can’t be more than twelve years old and has no business being out here.

I hold my breath as Piston steps forward and shoves his pistol into the back of his waistband.

“What’s your name kid?” he asks.

The boy looks from Piston to the guy on his left and back again.

“Devin.”

“Devin, how old are you?”

The boy hesitates but the guy he’s with elbows him. “S-seventeen.”

“Bullshit?!”

I slap a hand over my mouth and my eyes go wide. Piston’s head slowly swivels, and he glares at me. I know I’ve crossed a line, but I couldn’t stop the word before it was out. I reacted, like any normal human being would have.

“Quiet,” Piston growls before turning back around. “Devin, I’d bet my left nut that you’re not even close to seventeen.”

“Are you calling him a liar?” the guy next to Devin snaps.

I can see Piston’s shoulders tense, his body stiffen.

This is not going to go well.

Piston pulls his pistol back out and points it at the older guy’s head. “I take it you’re the punk ass bitch who brought him here. Let me tell ya, that was a big fucking mistake.”

“Jesus, Porter said you were a little crazy, but he forgot to mention psychotic.”

Knots form in my stomach and the barbecue from earlier threatens to come back up.

“Des, stop,” Devin pleads, his voice cracking.

Holy shit, this kid hasn’t even gone through puberty yet.

Greaser moves to stand next to Piston. “Dude, I think we need to pull the plug on tonight.”

“Oh, the plug is definitely getting pulled,” Piston agrees. “But not quite yet.” Piston turns to the two guys who have yet to speak. “You two, get the fuck out of here.”

Both of them rush to their vehicles and if they were on pavement, I’ve no doubt they’d peel out of the woods damn fast. As it stands, it’s not so dramatic.

“Des?” Piston begins. “That’s your name, right? Des?”

He nods.

“I’m guessing you’re the big brother.”

“What gave it away?” Des asks, full of an attitude that’s gonna get him killed.

Piston yanks him forward by the hair. “I don’t know, Des. Maybe it’s this flaming red hair that you both have. Or,” Piston pretends to think for a minute and then snaps his fingers. “Oh, yeah, that’s it. It’s the complete look of adoration Devin gives you even though he knows you’re being stupid. Only a brother could love you that much.”

“Please, sir…” Devin closes his mouth when Piston glares at him.

“Kid, you need to learn something and learn it quick” Piston shoves Des backward and turns to kneel down so he’s closer to eye level with him. “I need you to pay attention, okay? Hopefully you can take this information and teach your big brother a thing or two.”

Devin nods.

“Don’t ever blindly follow someone, no matter who they are to you. You and your brother are lucky I am who I am. Another one-percenter wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“He only brought me because he didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

Devin shakes his head. “Not in our house. Our dad was dr—”

“Dev, shut up!” Des shouts.

Piston glares at Des. “Let him talk,” he demands and then refocuses on Devin. “Go ahead.”

“Anyway, our dad is home drunk.” Devin shrugs. “He gets mean when he drinks and Des didn’t want me home alone with him.” Devin takes a deep breath and continues. “Plus, we need the money and two runners would make more than one.”

Joker and Riker exchange looks of pity, and in the night air, I hear Piston sigh. Greaser simply shakes his head. Piston stands and looks over his shoulder at me. He looks sad but also ready to take on the world for two kids—because let’s face it, they’re both kids—he just met.

“Devin, why do you guys need money?”

“Because our mom shoots my dad’s paycheck into her arm,” he says matter-of-factly and my heart sinks. “Not that the paychecks are a lot. Dad doesn’t go to work most of the time.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

“Jesus,” Piston mumbles as he gets to his feet and begins to pace.

I know Piston was afraid to let me see the ‘dark’ side of him, but so far, I haven’t. Even though I don’t like the club’s illegal activities, I have yet to see him take it too far. I’m not naive enough to think he never does. I’ve seen the blood evidence to prove it, but he’s able to control himself when it’s warranted and that means something, whether he realizes it or not.

As I watch him pace, my heart bleeds. He told me, in no uncertain terms, to stay put and stay quiet. And other than the one time, I have. But I can’t anymore. That’s not what someone does when they see the person who holds their heart suffering. And Piston is suffering right now.

“Piston?” He lifts his head and stares at me. Before he can chastise me, I say what’s on my mind. “I have an idea, but I don’t know…” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what my place is or if I’m even allowed to have an idea about these situations.”

Piston’s expression softens and his shoulders slump, almost as if he’s relieved to not be handling this alone.

“What’s your idea, sweet cheeks?”

I close the distance between us, and as I’m walking, I wave Joker, Riker, and Greaser over. Then I stab a finger in the air in the direction of Devin and Des.

“You two, don’t move,” I instruct.

Piston’s lips tilt into a grin and warmth floods my system.

“P, this is not exactly how we—”

“Greaser, can it,” Piston snaps. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

Greaser holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay.”

I take a deep breath and spit out my idea. “I know that Des hasn’t exactly given you any reason to think he’s anything other than a dick, but he had his reasons for bringing Devin. And if things are as bad as Devin says, maybe there’s a way we can help them.”

“We?” Piston asks, a brow raised.

“Yeah, we,” I confirm. When he continues to stare at me, I shrug. “What? I’m in this whether you like it or not. Just like I don’t want only parts of you, you’re not going to get only parts of me. It’s all or nothing.”

“Go on.”

“There has to be something at the shop or the club for the two of them to do, maybe earn some money.” They all exchange intrigued looks. “It might also be good for them to see how a real family works. Your family might be unconventional, but it’s still family. You could do a lot of good for two kids here.”

“Two kids?”

“Piston, we both know that Devin is not seventeen like he said, and I know Des may look older, but I’m guessing he’s not as old as we think. Sixteen, maybe seventeen.” I shrug. “I don’t know, but if he were legally an adult and he wants to protect his brother, why would he bring him here? Why not just take him and move out of the parent’s house? Get a job and earn money honestly?”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.”

“It’s a good idea, P,” Riker says. “I say call Fender and get his okay for now and we can put it to a full vote in the morning.”

“What about you two?” Piston looks at Joker and Greaser.

“Let’s do it.”

“Works for me.”

They both speak in unison.

Piston locks eyes with me and smiles. “I’ll agree if you’ll help me convince them.”

“Ah, I think you guys can handle it.”

“Yeah, we could. But so can you. Hell, you just convinced the four of us and we’re the hard sell.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “They’ll be a piece of cake for you.”

I think about what he’s asking me to do. He’s asking me to get involved.

You got yourself involved.

He’s asking me to forget the original reason for coming to the woods. He’s asking me to be a part of something he told me I’d never be a part of: club business.

He’s letting you in.

The question is, do I really want to be let in? Because if I’ve learned anything it’s that once you’re in, you’re in. Good, bad, and ugly… there is no turning back.

Is that what I want?

Hell yes.