He met Ty’s somber gaze. “Yeah.” The manufactured and planted evidence that stole his fucking life.
They fell quiet for a moment, probably both lost in the horrifying events of the past. Finally, Tyler broke the silence. “So, what’s your plan now? You need a place to crash or anything? My house is yours. Anything you need.”
“Nah, believe it or not, I still got the house.”
“No shit?” Ty asked with a laugh. “Damn, cuz, had I known, I’d have made sure it wasn’t falling to pieces over the years.”
Curly joined him in chuckling. “Yeah. It’s a shithole, obviously, but I had a company deep clean it yesterday while I started on some yardwork. Figure in a few days I’ll have it looking livable again.” He’d owned the small two-bedroom house since he was thirty. It’d sat untouched for more than a decade, and the overgrowth was insane at this point. He had the money to do whatever the hell he wanted to renovate it, he could sell the thing and buy something a hundred times nicer, but he wasn’t ready to make that decision. He needed to get his footing, make sure he could pull off starting a club, and determine if he genuinely wanted to stay in the area long term before making any decisions about a more permanent living situation. For now, the tiny house was more than enough for him. Hell, anything bigger than a seventy-square-foot cell still felt like a mansion these days.
“How about I come help you out this evening? I’m done here about five this afternoon. We can get a few hours of work in while the sun’s not so high, then grab some dinner. I could kill someone for a burger and a beer.”
As Curly was about to agree the idea sounded damn good, Tyler paled.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, running a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Curly scrunched his face. “For what?”
“For what I said. For running my fat mouth.”
Again, he tried to figure out what Travis said that might have been offensive. Then it hit him.
I could kill someone for a burger.
Waving away his cousin’s concern, he said, “Ty, it’s okay. Seriously. If I flipped out every time someone made a dumb figure of speech, I’d lose my shit fifteen times a day.”
“But you must be so angry. How could you not be? I think I’d hate the whole fucking world.”
Curly snorted. “Oh, I’m fucking angry. Trust me.” He shrugged. “But I figure I’ve already lost more than a decade of my life because of those bastards. I’m not willing to let them take another fucking minute from me.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He had his dark moments when the desire for revenge took over, but he’d been able to curb the impulse to go rogue and gun down anyone involved in his wrongful incarceration.
“Well, shit Trav, look at you getting all mature and shit.”
“Had to happen sometime, I guess.”
They laughed, and the years of not being around each other melted away, leaving two boys who were related by not only blood but also the best of friends.
A bell rang out, indicating the arrival of a customer. “Give me one sec,” Ty said as he turned toward the guest. “Hey there, help you with something?”
Curly took a step back and watched his cousin in action.
The twenty-something who entered blushed at the attention from the two large, tattooed men. “Uh, I have an appointment to repair a flat and for an alignment.”
“All righty,” Tyler said. He waved the young woman to the counter. “You Erin Marx?”
“That’s me.” She fluttered her eyelashes and arched her back, sticking her tits out. It didn’t escape Curly’s notice the way Tyler’s eyes slid over the woman’s form. Not much had changed.
Three minutes later, Erin made her way to the waiting area in the back, and Ty was returned to chatting with Curly.
“You still ride?” Curly asked his cousin.
“Fuck yes. Every chance I get.” Tyler’s eyes lit with excitement only another motorcycle lover would appreciate.
Huh, maybe this would work. “Wanna run something by you.”
“Okay?” Ty tilted his head.
“I want to start a club. A new MC.”
Tyler stiffened. A muscle in his left cheek twitched as he probably ground his teeth to dust. What was he thinking at that moment? Were the memories really that shitty?
Stupid question. Looking back on their past, when they'd prospected with the Outlaws, Curly could confidently say, yes. The memories of the stupid shit they’d done to prove themselves to a group of