Chapter 30

JUSTIN

Justin hated going to the prison. It reminded him of his time in county, and even though it was short—only three months—it was still painful.

You had to constantly watch your back and the back of your allies and make sure that you didn’t get shanked.

His dad got lucky being in the fancy prison, so he didn’t really have to worry about that crap, and Justin was very thankful.

He sat at the table waiting for his dad, his knee bouncing nervously. He felt some relief when the door buzzed and he saw his dad walk in.

It still shocked Justin sometimes how much he looked like his dad. They could have passed as twins when you compared pictures from when they were younger.

And now that Justin was thirty-five and Dylan was 55, the only difference was the gray streaking Dylan’s hair. It was still just as thick as Justin’s, and they both knew they looked good.

“Hey, son,” Dylan grinned, sitting opposite him at the table.

“Hey, Pop,” Justin replied, shaking his hand.

“So tell me what’s wrong,” Dylan demanded while watching his son.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” Justin asked, feigning confusion.

“Don’t play that shit with me, Justin. You forget that I know you,” Dylan smirked.

Justin sighed and spilled the whole story. He had kept Avery a secret from him until he knew where it was going to go and had planned to tell him the next time he visited.

Dylan sat, a little stunned, as he listened to his son talk. He was saying terms like love, marriage, more kids, and forever.

When Justin finished, Dylan looked at him intently.

“Wow... Did you actually just tell me that you want something more than free and easy pussy? You want the same woman for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah, Pop, I did. Avery is everything to me. You should see her—she is so fucking beautiful! God, when she blushes or giggles, I just want to take her in my arms and hold her forever.”

“And by your little speech, I assume the sex is good?” Dylan asked with a smirk.

“Jesus, Pop!” Justin scoffed, then grinned. “Yeah, it’s fucking incredible!”

Dylan laughed with his son, then sobered up. “So what do you want from me?”

“What should I do, Pop?” Justin asked quietly.

Dylan sighed. “That’s not my call, son.

“I do like the idea of you reaching out to this Bianchi player and getting some clarification on the situation. I will ask around here about him and see what I can find out.

“Justin, you’re in the unique and shitty position as president. You have to balance the club and your personal life, and it’s a huge and heavy weight you have on your shoulders.

“I didn’t always handle the stress of it, and that’s why I slept around. I just wanted to ease the club weight, and your mother, being the lovely person she was, used that against me.”

“Get the info first, and then you can decide what to do from there. Come back here and talk to me, and we’ll work it out together.”

Justin felt his father’s support and nodded. “Thanks, Pop. I’ll keep you posted. I gotta get back and get my shit. We have a run, and I’ll be gone for a week.”

Dylan nodded. “All right, be safe. Oh, how did the coffee shop opening go?”

“Great. Gabi is incredible and has those teenage boys running around with their tongues hanging out,” Justin laughed.

“Oh, I bet they are! She is one tasty cup of coffee,” Dylan agreed, grinning broadly.

“With good behavior, you are out in less than a year, Pop. You can do that and then see if Gabi wants to help welcome you home.”

Justin smirked, remembering the flirting that she would do with his father for years. It seemed like since she turned 18, she was after Dylan Mariner.

“Good point! I’ll keep that in mind. Ride safe, Justin, my time is up,” Dylan said, patting his shoulder, then went back with his guard.

Justin watched him walk through the locked door, then went back out to his bike. He drove back, grabbed his bag, met his table, and they all left to go out west.

He was preoccupied the whole time and was thankful Mitch understood that and was taking the lead on this run.

Four hours later, they pulled in and got settled at the sister MC’s clubhouse. Justin went to bed early after smoking a cigar.

He made it through the next day and was smoking a joint out back when Hank came up to him and sat next to him.

“I know you are suffering, Justin, I get it. But you got to pull yourself together! This is not how the president acts—this isn’t how you act,” Hank hissed.

“I know that, Hank. I’m trying. I just need to know if there is any hope that she didn’t know. I need that number!” Justin replied angrily.

Hank sighed. “I found what you were looking for. We owe a favor to Westcliffe, but I got it.” He handed over a wrinkled piece of paper.

Justin sat up and snatched the paper from him. “Thank you, Hank!”

He handed Hank the joint and walked over to the side, pulling out his phone. Hank watched as he talked for ten minutes, then came back with a smile on his face.

“We have a sit-down with Bianchis—all three—on Wednesday. Let the others know to be ready to leave at 10:00 a.m.

“We have to go up to Highdale where they are setting up some shit. We meet at 12:30 at a restaurant up there,” Justin told him excitedly.

Hank stood up and growled, “Fine, I will tell them. But goddamn it, Justin, you have to accept whatever they say! No more of this shit—you need to let it go and move on.

“Be the fucking president of Devil’s Reign! This is why you brought me onto the board, as an adviser. And I am advising you to pull your head from your ass and lead!”

Justin nodded. “I know, and I promise I will accept whatever they say.” He stopped and shot him a darker look. “But the table has to accept what they say too.

“If they corroborate Avery’s story about not knowing anything, then everyone needs to know that I will do EVERYTHING in my power to get her back in my life. Forever.

“And if a single person tries to interfere in ANY way, I will put a bullet between their eyes.”

Hank nodded and went back inside to talk to the others, knowing that Wednesday could be a do or die for Justin Mariner as the president of Devil’s Reign motorcycle club.