My Darling Mayhem
: Chapter 6

The social worker’s office smelled like old carpet and burnt popcorn.

This was slightly better than the last time I’d been here when the air had an odd odor of feet.

“Mr. Green, do you have those pay stubs we discussed?” Iris, Kane’s social worker, looked down her nose at me like my neighbor did. Which only had me thinking about yesterday and how I’d told her off in the street. I had no regrets about what I said, but I didn’t miss the hint of red that had stung her cheeks afterward or how she’d wiped her eyes.

It seemed my little iron-hearted single mom had a weakness, after all.

“Yes, right here.” I pulled an envelope out, which contained the last six months of paystubs.

Iris started unfolding each one while entering information on her keyboard.

The sound of keys clacking filled the space while people around us engaged in phone calls and murmured conversations. Iris had frizzy blonde hair that she piled on top of her head, with pieces that she very clearly sprayed down with hairspray. Her eye makeup was dark purple, her eyeliner thick black, and her lipstick blue. I had absolutely no idea how old she was, but if I was thirty-five, she had to be somewhat close to it or older.

“So, you’re a freelance financial manager?” Her penciled brow lifted like she didn’t believe what she saw on the paystubs.

“I’m hired through E Trust, but it’s a smaller branch: Trust and Save Financial Management. They currently have three agents hired, and we handle anywhere from seven to ten clients. I oversee the other two agents, and my client list is only five clients, but they’re the top five of all our clients combined.”

Iris looked at me while adjusting her thin glasses. “That seems like an incredibly demanding job.”

I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in my suit and tie. “It can be at times, but I’m salary, so my timetable is flexible, and I’ve yet to replace a reason to ever require me to stay any longer than three in the afternoon. As soon as I leave for the day, the work waits for me to return the following morning. It allows me to have hobbies and, of course, be present at home.”

Iris stared, trying to replace something else to say, but merely clicked her tongue.

“And you only work four days a week?”

I nodded, hoping she’d see the gap in time as a way for me to have more time with Kane if I were to have my brother full-time.

She clicked a few more keys, then glanced at me briefly before asking, “And describe what your weekends will look like if you gain custody of Kane.”

Easy. “He’s currently learning to ride his bike. We’ll go to parks when the weather is nice; when it’s not, we’ll be at home playing and relaxing. Depends on what’s going on. Or, if he wants to join a sport.”

Iris took off her glasses and set them aside. “And what about your motorcycle club? How will you balance your club’s needs with Kane in tow?”

“Well, he⁠—”

He what? He’d come with me? I couldn’t say that to a social worker. He’d stay home? Fuck.

I must have taken too long to respond because Iris sighed.

“We’re not yet, but we could be going up against a parental hearing. I just got a call from family services in New Jersey. There’s a petition that was just filed for Kane Green. This means another family member might be trying to contest you becoming Kane’s legal guardian. My guess is it’s Kane’s father. We will treat these sessions as though that were happening because it’s a worst-case scenario. You need an ironclad case. The court doesn’t care about what you did as a teenager or even in your early twenties. You’re an established adult with a home, a functioning vehicle, and a good job. Those are all wonderful things that would make a great guardian. However, you lead a motorcycle club, and if there’s a chance this other family member doesn’t, then you’re in trouble. While I think you would make a great choice, I don’t make the rules. When asked what you’ll do with your ward, the only correct answer revolves around being available for them. Kane is in kindergarten, so part of your weekend plans might revolve around practicing reading, writing, and anything that would help him progress in school.”

“Right, I just—” I started, but Iris started clicking on her keyboard again, ignoring whatever defense I was about to use.

“The judge won’t care for your excuses, so I won’t do you the disservice of entertaining them. Solidify your free time because this question will certainly be asked of you during the custody hearing. Talk to your lawyer about pushing the date. The longer you’ve been in that house and away from your club, the better it looks.”

My heart sank; even if I knew she was right, it felt like a knife had started carving into my back, cutting away at invisible wings. My club had always been my freedom, and no one said I couldn’t return to it after a time, but I had no idea how I was supposed to balance being Kane’s legal guardian and the president of Mayhem Riot.

“And Mr. Green?”

My eyes flicked up.

“It would help if you had more support in your corner. A girlfriend, boyfriend…husband, or wife that would make the judge agree to temporary guardianship faster. It would make you look better if extra hands were in place to assist you caring for this child. If that’s not possible, then your only option is to make the appropriate plans regarding your club. Sadly, in this situation, I don’t see a way where you can keep both.”

My scoff had her jolting.

“What you’re talking about is community…I have that with my club. While I understand the stigma around motorcycle clubs, and while I completely agree it’s no place for a child, the people within the club are decent. Did you know one of my members is a doctor, another is a bank manager, and others volunteer with hospice? These men and women come together to form a community, and you’re telling me I should replace that. I’m telling you I have, and it somehow makes me look worse to the courts?”

Iris pursed her lips while tapping her pencil against her desk. “I don’t make the rules, Mr. Green. I’m just here to explain them to you. The parenting model of taking a village rarely works with family court. They want to know you’ve got a stable home without a village and the chaos that would go with that.”

“You just suggested I get help⁠—”

Iris cut me off, “Encouraging you to have a partner help pick Kane up from school is hardly the same as an entire village.”

I bit back the rest of my response because it was clear it didn’t make a fucking difference. Instead, I grabbed my folder and walked out.

Thistle was working on his bike when I pulled up to his house. He lived in a single-family home a few blocks away from our club. It had been a while since I’d ridden into the city. The time on the road gave me time to process the meeting with Iris.

Several things she said were on repeat in my head, circling like a drain down to my stomach, where my nerves twisted into knots. But one thought in particular had me driving all the way to the city so I could share my concerns with my vice president.

“You preppin for winter?” I asked as I tossed my friend an energy drink.

Thistle gave me a solemn nod while cracking open the can. “Hate puttin’ her away…I’m hoping the snow will hold off this year.”

“Does it ever?” I laughed, walking closer to his bike, seeing that his exhaust had been upgraded.

Thistle sipped his drink, then continued working. “You’re here…why is that?”

I never thought I’d hear the day when my own VP questioned why I was in town, but fuck my life, this was what it was now.

“Kane’s social worker hinted at Saul getting involved, contesting my guardianship.”

Thistle’s hands stopped moving as he tipped his head back, his bushy brows crowding his forehead. “That would mean your piece of shit old man was back?”

I nodded my head, staring at the concrete.

“It’s possible.”

Thistle sipped from his can, still sitting on his tiny stool, glaring up at me. “What’s the worst-case scenario with him returning? You think he wants to go through all that shit just for the sake of being a dad?”

“Nah, it has to do with me. He must know that I want Kane, or maybe he knew about my meeting with Brit when she asked me to take Kane two years ago. It was right after that conversation that her accident happened.”

With a heavy sigh, my VP tossed a tool into his open tool bag. “Let’s just do a hit, Arch. Your dad killed Kane’s mom. He’s dangerous…let’s not give him a chance to fuck with you.”

My eyes narrowed on a small crevice in the driveway with weeds growing inside as my brain worked out the possibilities. “There has to be another angle I’m not seeing. He knows Brit’s death can’t be proven. But there was enough speculation. I should have tried harder and pushed to get the detectives to track him down.”

“It’s not your fault, you know that. Shit, man…honestly, I still wonder if Kane is even his. I mean, Saul got some twenty-year-old bunk bunny who was bouncing around on various cocks knocked up? Just seems⁠—’

I gave my VP a look, and he shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. He’s your fuckin’ twin.”

Kane looked exactly like me. If I did get custody of him, people would assume he was my kid his entire life, most likely. Brit was a gorgeous woman, but she was a brunette with freckles and a fake tan. My father, Saul Green, looked like he’d just stepped out of some Viking show with his blond hair, white eyebrows, and beard. His stark blue eyes and pale skin were almost identical to mine. According to what my mom had told me, he was almost one hundred percent Norwegian, and those features were passed down firmly through his genes.

“If I had to make an assumption, he will try and leverage the club for Kane. We need to be ready for it. I want all the captains out on a ride, investigating him and seeing what they can replace out, but tell them to be discreet. Kane’s social worker mentioned New Jersey, so send the boys out; we’re likely looking into the Gentry Brother’s MC.”

Thistle nodded, finishing off his can.

“You sticking around for the rest of the night?”

A pair of amber eyes flashed in my mind as I pictured home and remaining here. She’d been rude enough that I shouldn’t continue anything there…but the image of her lying in her driveway, hurt with no one but her kid there to help her, hit me right in the chest. As if I’d been shot with a pellet gun, the wound stinging and remaining. Not lethal but agitating.

“I have work to do.” I needed to see her leave tomorrow morning, knowing she’d made it into her little job. This morning, that woman from the doctor’s office had picked her up, while Cruz had gotten on the bus. I had stupidly driven by Wren’s job to make sure she’d made it safely.

I’d seen her work when I first stopped in to discuss the purchase of my home, but she’d been with a customer and hadn’t even noticed me.

I noticed her though.

The problem was, now that I had met her, I wanted her attention. Like a kid back in grade school, I wanted the girl next door to see me, smile at me, and talk to me. For all the women I had met in my life who wanted my time, how ironic was it that I only seemed to want a single mom with an attitude issue to have it?

“Might be good for the guys to see you for a bit at least,” Thistle suggested, keeping his focus on his bike and his comments off my withdrawn attitude.

I dipped my chin in understanding. He was holding shit down, and I knew it wasn’t easy for him. He was a great VP but didn’t want to be president.

“Yeah, I’ll hang for a bit.”

I surveyed my club, trying to replace the same sense of freedom I had before I decided to move to Atlas. Before I knew I’d be taking responsibility for my little brother’s life and agreeing to raise him. Something humbling rooted me to the ground when I considered what the courts needed to see from me. I knew the men in my club had families and jobs; most had careers outside of this club, yet when they walked in through those doors, they seemed like the lost boys in Peter Pan.

Never having to grow up. Never having to face responsibilities.

I meant what I said to Wren about us not being a gang. Most people didn’t understand that our love for our bikes drew us together. Riding was as close to flying as we’d ever get while still getting to feel the wind through our leather cuts, reminding us we weren’t angels or anything holy.

Just broken men with a passion for riding and a desire to build community. Gangs built their existence around corruption, greed, and crime. We might skim a little and push the boundaries to make some extra cash, but we’d still be us if we lost that. Wild, free, and happy.

“No, I’m not running that route again. Those fuckers are crazy!”

My head snapped up at the sound of one of our prospects barging into the club, tossing his helmet across the room. Thistle’s brows furrowed as he watched one of our captains, Dozer, approach the kid. I wouldn’t ask until I knew more, but a tantrum like he was having in front of other members and some of the non-members was an absolute fucking no.

I couldn’t hear what Dozer said to the kid, but the prospect yelled again.

“This is the third time they’ve intercepted our routes. We’re lucky to even be alive.”

The kid pushed past Dozer, which was another big fuckin’ nope, which is when Thistle caught my eye.

We walked to the back of my office and shut the door. This room had no windows, just gray walls, a leather couch against the back wall, and my desk on the other. Thistle stood with his arms crossed, waiting until Dozer walked in.

Dozer was Armenian with thick, black hair, tan skin, sky-blue eyes, and a sharp nose. Built like a fuckin’ tank, which is where he’d gotten his nickname.

“What’s this about?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. Felt weird being back in it after being away for so long.

Dozer let out a sigh and sank down onto the couch. “The routes along Manhattan. Same shit, just a new fuckin’ year.”

I glanced up at Thistle. He gave me a subtle nod, which made my mind go back to Wren and that tattoo I had seen on her arm.

“Is this still that gang, El Peligro?” I thought they had new leadership or something. For the longest time, they hadn’t been an issue because the primary leader didn’t give two shits about us, but something shifted recently.

Dozer nodded, staring down at the ground, lost in thought. “Their patrols are more frequent, and every time we come close to one of the checkpoints for a meetup, their men intercept us. The last few times were just warning shots, but this time, he said they tried to light their bikes on fire.”

“Shit,” I murmured, tracing a groove in the desk. That little black heart on her arm. Why did she have it? What connection did my neighbor have to this fucked-up gang?

“You sure it’s still them?”

Dozer tossed me a card. Black heart, dripping as if it were bleeding. Their calling card.

This complicated things.

“Pull back until we can get around their patrols and figure out why they’re suddenly being so aggressive. I might have to reach out to their new leader and figure it out.”

Thistle shifted against the wall. “Leaders.”

My head swung up at him, my brows dipping. He clarified a second later, giving Dozer a quick glance. “There’s two.”

The stars were out, and they were so much brighter here than they were in the city. I should focus on the expanse of dark sky and the bright lights twinkling above me as I sipped beer and relaxed on my patio lounger, instead of waiting for my neighbor to come out. I heard Wren’s sliding door open, and then voices trailed over the fence, making me sit up so fast my drink spilled.

“Shit,” I whispered, then quickly moved to wipe up the mess from my shirt while briskly walking through my yard until I was right next to her fence.

I was far too ashamed to admit that I was eavesdropping.

“It’s fine,” I heard Wren say, but she sounded in pain.

Another female voice joined in. “It doesn’t look fine; it’s swollen as fuck. Where’s the meds the doc gave you?”

She sounded like the woman with Wren at the doctor’s office. Liza…or Laurel was her name.

“I can’t take them. I have Cruz, the beauty of single parenting. I never get to be off-duty for any reason.”

There was a silence that stretched, and then the other girl started up again. “If I could stay, I would, but I promised my sister I’d meet her for a drink. Are you sure you don’t remember which house he moved into?”

The woman with her laughed, but Wren didn’t. I rolled my eyes because they acted like I was a brainless animal; they could just toss a bag over and take it home. The only woman who had snagged my attention in the past few years was Wren, and she wanted nothing to do with me.

Still didn’t mean I’d be open to fucking or doing anything else with someone right now. I had way too much going on.

“Maybe you can take it once Cruz goes to sleep?” The girl from the office asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“What if he needs something, or someone breaks into the house? I can’t just check out. I wish I could, but Tylenol and Ibuprofen will do.”

“Okay, girl. Well, is there anything else I can do before I head out?”

I heard Wren sigh and then say, “Actually, could you take my garbage bin to the curb for me?”

I had no way of knowing what the woman said, but I decided I’d make sure she helped her friend. It was a few more minutes before she exited Wren’s house, and as she walked toward her car, her phone was up to her ear.

I couldn’t hear her conversation, but I caught a small tidbit before she completely ignored Wren’s request and got into her car to leave.

“No, she didn’t introduce me, and I looked through her phone for his number when she wasn’t looking. When I asked if it was the new house he moved into, she didn’t confirm it. I tried; see you in a few.”

Wren hadn’t said which house was mine?

Something strange tried to replace room in my chest. Something like appreciation and gratitude.

Her hot and cold routine was still pissing me off, but…that didn’t stop me from crossing over to her driveway and pulling the two bins that sat on the side of her house all the way to the curb.