Unbeloved (Undeniable #4)(62)
Whereas Hawk and he might have a history of disliking each other, they usually spent the very little time they were forced to spend in the same room together ignoring each other. Not since the day Hawk had showed up at the hospital, informing them all that Dorothy’s baby was his and then beating Jase senseless, had Hawk given him the time of day.
Until today. As soon as he’d seen Jase, his hard expression had hardened further. Even injured, the man had squared his shoulders, rising to his full height. It was the human equivalent of an animal sensing a threat, and Hawk’s figurative hackles had risen.
As they’d stared at each other, Jase had felt an unspoken tension begin building between them, worse than it had ever been before. Yeah, something was very different this time, and once he saw that kiss . . .
Deuce shut the doors with a slam and Jase closed his eyes. He’d felt that kiss, felt that shit all the way down to his toes. No smack down Hawk could have ever laid on him, verbally or physically, would make him feel worse than seeing the woman who’d once put him on a damn pedestal, had faithfully waited on him to choose her for years—
Wait. Scratch that shit. She hadn’t been faithful. Not even close. But he couldn’t even bring himself to be pissed about it. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
Even so, seeing her publicly claimed by another man made him feel like shit.
“Reel it in,” Deuce muttered, “and sit the f*ck down. I got a f*ck of a lot of shit to fill your sorry ass in on.”
As Deuce headed for his desk, Jase dropped into an armchair and sighed. “’Bout that shit, Prez, I don’t think you should be tellin’ me anything.”
Deuce took his seat, but instead of leaning forward onto his desk like he usually would, he pushed back, folded his arms across his chest, and stared blankly at Jase.
“Yeah?” Deuce asked. “And why’s that? You quittin’ me?”
“I got kids that won’t f*ckin’ talk to me,” Jase said, beginning to worry about whether Deuce was going to let him retire in good standing, or boot his ass out of here for being a quitter and force him to cover up his club tattoos.
“Been with you a long time, Prez,” he said nervously. “Half my damn life, just about. I gotta go. I ain’t got no choice. Gotta make this shit right with my girls.”
“So that’s where you’re headed, then? Upstate? Near the college?”
Jase simply nodded.
Unfolding his arms, Deuce sat up and yanked open a drawer that Jase couldn’t see into. He pulled out a pack of smokes, shook one out of the box, and lit it up.
Jase glanced to the door, expecting Eva to charge in here and begin busting the man’s balls, but when nothing happened, he shrugged and looked back to Deuce.
“Don’t give me any bullshit,” Deuce grumbled. “I got two of my boys leavin’ me, think I deserve a f*ckin’ smoke.”
Jase wanted to ask who else was leaving, but decided against it. If Deuce allowed him to pull out on good standing, he’d technically still be a member, just a retired one. And being retired from an MC was a hell of a lot like military service—you could be called back to duty at any time if you were needed.
“Ahhh.” Deuce sighed as a long stream of gray smoke poured from between his lips. “Fuckin’ beautiful shit right there.”
Jase stayed silent, letting the man enjoy his cigarette as he glanced around the office for what was more than likely going to be the last time. The thought of leaving, saying good-bye to everything he knew was terrifying, yet at the same time there was a tiny part of him that felt . . . excited at the idea of starting over.
Deuce abruptly stood up, jerking Jase’s attention back to him. “Hand over your cut,” he said, and Jase’s stomach sank.
Slowly he pushed himself out of the chair, and even more slowly, he let the black leather vest slide from his shoulders. He turned, catching it before it could fall to the floor. Then, clutching it in his hands, he stared down at it a moment, at the patches on it, thinking of the million memories such a small scrap of material contained.
“Picture stays on the wall,” Deuce said, regaining Jase’s attention. “Colors stay on your skin. And I ever need your ass, you’re back here faster than shit stains a white f*ckin’ carpet, you feel me?”
After stubbing his cigarette out, Deuce headed back around the desk and toward him. Holding out his hand, he said, “Give it here.”
Looking at Deuce, Jase was reminded of his father. Despite aging better than his old man had, Deuce had been like a father to Jase. Saying good-bye to him felt like losing a family member.
Still, he handed over the vest, and once it was in Deuce’s hand, the man turned around and pointed to where Blue’s cut was hanging on the wall above his desk, encased in glass and framed.
“It’s goin’ there, brother,” he said. “You’ll be in good f*ckin’ company.”
It was both surprising and heartwarming. To have his cut hung on Deuce’s wall, and near Blue’s, no less? That was an honor of epic proportions, and one given to very few brothers. Jase wasn’t being dismissed or cut off, not at all. He was simply moving on in a way that was reminiscent of leaving your parents’ home once you were old enough, once it was finally time.
And it was time for Jase to move on.
“Thanks, Prez,” Jase said quietly.