I study the picture again, seeking familiar faces. “Jesus Christ, is that Priest?”
“On his official ball-busting tour,” Z confirms.
“Fuck me, Valentina hasn’t aged a day,” I mutter. “Good to see they’re still together.”
My gaze moves to the next one. Rooster, Shelby, Jigsaw, Wrath, Steer, and a bunch of brothers I don’t recognize in front of what looks like another log cabin in the mountains. “Virginia,” Wrath explains.
I squint closer. “That Ice?”
“He’s the prez down there now,” Wrath says.
“Well, fuck me.” I sweep my gaze over the wall again. A profound sense of loss settles over me. “Lot of things I’ve missed. History to catch up on.”
Z gently clasps my shoulder. “You’ve got all the time in the world now, brother.”
Murphy might be VP now but from what I’ve gathered, he still spends a lot of time on road captain duties. After my tour upstairs, I meet him and Dex in the garage farthest from the clubhouse—apparently the property has three heated garages where cars and bikes are worked on. I can’t get over all the details they’ve added to make this little slice of paradise a blend of MC and family space.
“Sorry it’s still so shitty out, brother,” Dex says, as if I hold him personally responsible for the weather.
“We set up two rides for you.” Murphy places his hands on the handlebars of the Harley Softail standard. Painted shades of dark blue and silver, it looks awfully similar to the one I had before I went inside, but newer.
“Nice.” I run my hand over the seat; a tug in my shoulder makes my jaw clench. Shitty weather or not, I don’t think I could handle this machine right now. Good thing I was released in the winter, giving me an acceptable excuse not to ride.
“Whose is it?” I ask.
“Yours.” He holds up his hands before I have a chance to protest. “Take it up with Rock, old man. I just do what I’m told.”
“Bullshit,” I grumble.
Ignoring my crankiness, Murphy walks over to a shiny black Ford F-150 with silver stripes down the sides and slaps the hood. “This is all set up for you to use while the weather’s bad.”
“Whose is it?”
“Mine. But I’m loaning it to you.”
I cock my head. “I ain’t taking charity, son.”
Murphy rolls his eyes. “It’s not charity, old man.”
I stare at him, and he finally throws his hands up. “It’s my old truck. I didn’t feel like selling it when I upgraded, but now it’s sitting here collecting dust. You’ll be doing me a favor by running it.”
Doing him a favor. What a load of bullshit. But I appreciate him understanding my need not to feel like a parasite. “High roller, huh? Hanging onto two trucks?”
“Fucking hoarder is what he is,” Dex jokes. “He’s got Heidi’s old SUV parked down at her brother’s.”
“She’s actually running that in the winter.” Murphy grins. “Got the Hellcat stored down at Teller’s now.”
I glance at the truck again. “You sure I’m not putting anyone out by using this?”
He raises his right hand. “Swear.”
“I’ll pay you when I start—”
“Fuck that,” he growls. “I don’t want anything for it, Grinder.”
I work my jaw from side to side, and Murphy holds up his hands again. “Fine. When you’re ready, we’ll work out something.”
“Thank you.”
Now that we’ve come to a vehicle arrangement, I haul myself inside the truck, settling into the soft leather seat. Murphy hops in on the other side.
“This is more like a luxury car than a truck,” I say, running my hands over the leather-wrapped steering wheel.
“It’s still a workhorse.” Murphy grins. “But I like my creature comforts.” He presses his finger to the screen in the center of the dashboard.
“What the fuck is this? A damn spaceship?” Where’d all the knobs and buttons go?
He gives me a thin smile and doesn’t even crack any old man jokes, which somehow makes me feel worse. Fifteen years locked away from the world is a lot of time. Technology—well, everything—kept on going without my knowledge or consent. The realization of how much I’ve missed springs up and slaps me at the most unexpected times.
“GPS.” He taps a neon blue square on the screen. “Input any address you need and this will direct you there.”
“Shit.” What addresses do I even remember? I tap one in and Murphy chuckles. “Crystal Ball’s still where I left it, right?”
“Yeah, it’s still there.”
It’s the last place I feel like visiting, but there’s no reason for Murphy to get up in my business more than he already has. I close out the screen. “We’ll see where the day takes me.”
“Sounds good, brother.” He opens his door, then stops himself. “Here, let me sync your phone to the Bluetooth before you get on the road.”
He might as well. I haven’t gotten used to the flat little rectangle Z swore up and down was actually a phone. I’d been expecting some little silver flip thing. Rock assured me the club still had plenty of those around to use as burners but for my personal line, they’d upgraded me to a “smart” phone. Whatever the fuck that means.