Page 5 of Odin's Treasure
The fact that he’d been giving my mother shit pissed me off more than the school thing. Ma had helped me raise him since the day Larissa lost her battle to breast cancer.
I pulled in a breath processing her words. She’d been holding shit down here on the home front when I had to go on runs. And he was acting like an asshole?
Fuck that.
“I’ll have a word with him,” I said, voice flat. “Straighten him out.”
Ma stirred the meat, refusing to look at me. “Wade.”
“What?”
She finally turned. “He’s getting older.”
“Know that.”
“And I think,” she said carefully, “you need to be around more.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling pressure settle between my shoulders.
Something in me broke when Reid’s mom died. It was like I couldn’t breathe without Larissa. So I hit the road. Told myself the club needed me, and that Reid was safe with Ma.
“Son—”
I looked over at her then, and really saw her.
The exhaustion around her eyes. The weariness that she was trying and failing to hide.
It was time to make some changes for all of us.
“How do you feel about California?”
Chapter Two
ODIN
Three Months Later
“Jesus Christ, I hate ridin’in a fuckin’ cage.”
I glanced at Danger in the rearview mirror. He’d been bitching for three fucking days about being twisted into a pretzel in the backseat.
His words, not mine.
Not that I blamed him for complaining. Danger was a hair under 6 '5”, which meant he had to ride slouched down in the backseat because his head hit the roof, but that also meant his knees were damn near drawn up to his ears.
Dash snorted. “Suck it up, princess. We had too much shit to haul down here.”
My lips twitched at Dash calling our new enforcer princess.
He was more like Andre the fucking giant. Not only was Danger as tall as a goddamn tree, dude was 280 lbs. of solid muscle.
My mind drifted to last week when Danger showed up at my house out of the blue. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’d done time with me and Dash for Uncle Sam over in the sandbox. Somehow he’d heard through the grapevine that we were picking up stakes and heading across the country to head up a club. When he asked if he could tag along, I jumped on it. No prospecting necessary. He watched our asses in the desert, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he’d do the same in Devils Cove.
“We’re almost there,” I assured him, letting my gaze shift to the side mirror and the thirty-foot ATC Hauler that was hitched to my murdered out Heavy Duty Dodge Ram Dually.
The trailer was packed to the fucking brim with bikes, tools, clothes, and anything else that would fit that my brothers couldn’t live without. It was just too much to haul on our sleds, which meant we were all fucking miserable.
My gaze slid back to the road before going back to the mirror and the 2nd truck that’d been following close behind since we rolled out of Boston a few days ago.
