Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC Book 1)

“Just to repeat,” the plump man in the middle of the board room said, “this is the parole hearing for one, Michael Brooks. He has served five of his six years, and he was granted the option of parole via good behavior because of his willingness to cooperate with police.”

I winced at his words because it made me sound like a fucking rat. And I despised snitching little rats. I didn’t cooperate with the police; I simply didn’t give them any grief when they asked me questions. I answered as curtly as possible, not once did I lie, and I still managed to get Hyde off with nothing but a few years of probation and fifteen months with a cuff slapped around his ankle.

I didn’t cooperate with anyone.

I just didn’t fucking lie to their faces like some idiots did.

“I have his file as well as recommendations from both the warden and two of the prison guards,” Mr. Rothsfield said.

I looked up at him with a curious look. I wasn’t really sure how parole hearings were supposed to go, but wasn’t a recommendation from the warden a good thing?

I watched as my lawyer and the fat man in the middle with a sweat-soaked navy suit exchanged documentation. I watched silently as the board of people sitting in front of me passed around letters and whispered to themselves in order to determine my fate. I peeked up at my lawyer and I found him smirking at me, which I’d only ever seen him do one other time before.

Holy shit, he’s gonna get me out of here.

The only other time I’d ever seen him smirk like that was when he took on Hyde’s case. He didn’t seem to mind the conflict of interest, and I liked that because I had been willing the entire time to take the fall for Hyde. As the Enforcer to my club, that was what I did for my men. They looked to me not simply for direction, but for protection. And when Mr. Rothsfield smirked at me in the courtroom before they gave Hyde his sentencing, I breathed a sigh of relief.

So, why was he smirking at me now?

Mr. Plump sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose the evidence is pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?”

The two women beside him nodded their heads while one of them stroked my body with her eyes. She kept staring at my arms and my legs. One of my tattoos that crept up the side of my neck held her gaze before her eyes met mine. And the salacious desires that flashed behind her icy blue stare would have made me smirk just like my lawyer had done to me.

Only, the woman for me wasn’t inside these prison walls.

She was out there, living her life with a broken heart I was anxious to mend.

Mr. Plump picked up his gavel. “This parole board hereby states that Mr. Michael Brooks—brought up on charges of drug trafficking, drug possession, and the selling of illegally-modified cars—has earned his freedom via good behavior over the past four years and eleven months. Mr. Michael Brooks is hereby released from prison, relieved of his sentence, and ordered to vacate the premises by 9 A.M. Friday morning.”

Two days.

I was a free man in two fucking days.

His gavel banged against the desk and my lawyer patted me on the back. I stood and went to shake his hand, but he quickly pulled me into a hug. He patted my back and gripped my shoulders, smiling as triumphantly as I should have been.

But my mind was already dwelling on thoughts of Raven.

My God, I’d love to see her.

My lawyer talked my ear off about shit I didn’t even register as we headed back to my cell. He told me he’d work out the details of my release with the warden herself, then reiterated that in less than forty-eight hours, I’d be a free man. Granted, I’d need to go to a halfway house for a little while, and I would still have my movements monitored. But that was simply because I didn’t have family to bunk with, nor did I want to inconvenience any of my guys by taking my hefty ass in.

Unless…

She wouldn’t do that for me, would she?

The second I sat down on my lower bunk, I pulled out my letter-writing materials. I wanted to craft the perfect letter for her to announce the fact that I was being released, and that I’d like to see her. I knew she’d say no, and I didn’t blame her one bit for that. Especially since the last time we saw one another, all she did was smack me across my cheek.

A slap well-deserved, in my opinion.

Nevertheless, she was the only person in my life I wanted to speak with. The only person I wanted to keep in touch with. While the men in my club had stopped visiting a while back, she was the one shred of happiness I clung to. The one small, beautiful point in my life that never ceased to amaze me. And while the guilt I harbored with continuously reaching out to my best friend’s girl sometimes ate me alive, the hope of getting a response from her one day was worth it.

Even if the response didn’t come until I was knocking on her door come Friday morning.

“Here are your belongings,” the officer said flatly.

A plastic bag with my clothes from the day I was arrested got dropped into my arms. I saw my wallet hanging out as well as my cell phone, which was still wrapped up in an old evidence baggy. I saw my socks and my boots. My faded leather cut and my light-wash jeans that had holes ripped in the knees.

I also saw the blood as well.

The massive patches of Gage’s blood as I held his body against my own.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

The officer pointed. “Go through that door and down the hallway. There will be a bathroom to your left for you to change into. Leave the jumpsuit, get into those clothes, and then proceed through the metal door at the end of the hallway.”

I slowly looked up. “You want me to put on clothes soaked with the blood of my best friend?”

The officer shrugged. “Unless you’ve got other clothes.”

My lawyer’s voice sounded behind me. “He does, actually. Brooks, down this way.”

I turned toward his voice. “What?”

He waved at me. “Just come down here, would you?”

I looked the officer up and down before I headed toward the hallway. My lawyer swapped out the clothes in my arms for a fresh pair and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“What do you want me to do with these?” he asked.

I jammed my shoulder into the bathroom door. “Keep the leather jacket, my wallet, and my phone. Pass me my boots and burn everything else.”

He started unwrapping the plastic. “The best I can do is throw it in the dumpster on the way out.”

“Fine by me.”

I did exactly as the officer instructed and took a look at myself in the mirror. Mr. Rothsfield had been on the club’s payroll for years now. And while he had seen us through a great many sticky situations, I was the first man he had to deal with that had gotten prison time. He’d done well, too. He got me the lowest sentence possible for my charges and somehow wiggled me into parole even though that had never been on the table. From my point of view, the man needed a fucking raise.

Especially since he helped handle my estate while I was away.

“Thanks,” I said as I came out of the bathroom.

He gripped my shoulder. “I’ve got your bike out here for you, if that’s what you’d like to ride away on.”

I grinned. “You know me too well.”

He chuckled. “Just doing what I can. You’re a free man now, and I’m sure you’ve missed the rides.”

I’ve missed Raven more. “Thank you, man. For everything.”

He opened the metal door for me. “Nonsense, it’s my job. And between you and me? Not everything about your case added up in the first place.”

The hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. “So, you think that, too?”

He led me toward my bike. “Couldn’t discuss it with you while you were in prison, but I can now. And yes, there’s a lot of unanswered questions we didn’t get to the bottom of that night. That’s what I used to negotiate your parole. I told them that if we were really going to stop without having all of the questions answered, the least they could do is give you parole.”

I snickered. “You’re a fucking snake, you know that?”

He patted my back. “Oh, and one more thing. I also used that excuse to get you out of the halfway house. So, you’re free to go home right now.”

My eyebrows rose. “Yeah, you need a raise.”

He barked with laughter. “Again, just doing my job. But if you want to put in a good word for me? I won’t say no to that, either.”

I grinned. “Consider it done.”

I dug my helmet out of the back storage compartment on my bike and slid it onto my head. I looked back at the massive brick building surrounded by metal fencing and barbed wire. I was so glad to be out of that place, especially since Porter had to pay off some guys in there for my own protection. I was a massive target in that place, and it cost Porter a great deal out of his own pocket to make sure I was taken care of and not murdered on sight. Why the club didn’t foot that entire bill, I honestly wasn’t sure.

But I was hellbent on finding out the answer.

I was hellbent on finding all of the answers.

I threw my leg over my bike for the first time in five years and it felt like coming home. The leather cradled my crotch like a dream and the handlebars were itching for me to strike up the engine. A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, though, and when I panned my eyes in that direction, I saw a familiar sight.

A man, sitting on top of a bike, staring straight at me.

I was no stranger to people tracking me down. That was just how it went in the lifestyle sometimes. But this was no particular stranger. This was a Black Flag. A member of our rival club that we had been at odds with for years. This was a man from the exact club that kept trying to push us out of our own territory.

So, I flipped up my visor and stared straight back.

I wanted him to know that I saw him. I wanted him to know that I had clocked him. That he had failed in his mission to keep tabs on me. And the second our eyes connected, he pushed off the ground and sped away on his bike.

Before a bike approached me from behind.

“I see Mr. Rothsfield did his job,” Porter said.

He rode into my vision and I ripped my helmet off. “Get off that damn bike and get over here.”

Porter chuckled. “You first.”

I propped my bike back up and slipped off before I wrapped him up in the biggest hug I’d ever given anyone, outside of Gage. Porter barked with laughter as I picked him up and swung him around like we were in some sort of fucking romantic comedy movie. I never thought I’d be so happy to see that doofus in all my life, but here he was, greeting me as I got out of prison.

Like the rest of the club should’ve been doing.

I released the embrace. “So, talk to me. What the hell’s been going on?”

He slid his helmet back on. “Ready to talk and ride? We’ve got business to attend to.”

I put my helmet back on. “Already throwing me back into the fire?”

He got back onto his bike. “You’ve been cooling down for five damn years. You can deal.”

I chuckled. “You’re damn right, I can.”

We synced up the Bluetooth headsets in our helmets, then blazed a trail away from the prison. Watching that damned place fall toward the horizon in my rearview mirror filled me with a happiness I couldn’t explain with mere words. The adrenaline and the happiness alone stiffened my cock. I poised myself above my bike and let the wind whip around my body.

Freedom.

The air smelled like freedom today.

“All right, so,” Porter said as his voice came alive in my ear, “we need to talk about Chops.”

I blinked. “All right. What’s going on with Chops.”

“How much do you know about how the club has changed since you’ve been gone?”

I shrugged. “Not much, especially since you asshats stopped visiting about a year ago.”

“Hey, not my fault this club went to shit. Had a relapse over it and everything.”

I peeked over at him. “Seriously? You started drinking again?”

“Once I tell you the story, you won’t be able to blame me one bit.”

I vowed to keep an eye on Porter to make sure he stayed on the wagon this time around. Because the last thing I needed was him sinking back into his old, destructive ways.

We almost lost him twice due to that nonsense.

“So, you know Hyde was killed, right?”

I almost ran my bike off the damn road. “Wait a second, what?”

He sighed. “Oh, boy. Okay, backing up even further. Remember when he got off on his charges with nothing but probation and an ankle monitor?”

“Uh, yeah. I was there for the sentencing.”

“Well, a couple of weeks later he’s helping out with a job, right? With a fucking ankle monitor on, because he’s an idiot. Well, he has Chops and me come to his house, we’re planning shit to transport a car, and boom! Police swarm. Chops and I got out just in time, but that’s only because Hyde started shooting.”

My jaw unhinged in shock. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. Just shot as much as he could. And the police shot back. They riddled his body with bullets, man. It was insane.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. None whatsoever.”

“Trust me, I know. Oh, and get this: when they raided his house looking for things after killing him, they found a closet full of coke.”

I almost slammed on my brakes. “No. No way. Hyde was as clean and as good as they come. There’s no fucking way.”

“Right!? I wanted to fill you in on all of this because I don’t know what the hell’s happened to our club. But it’s not what you remember.”

We finally hopped onto the highway and headed for Santa Cruz. “Tell me everything.”

He pulled up next to me. “Well, Chops is President now, and he’s pushing us to get into shit I don’t agree with. We went from modding cars and helping with sales transport to running guns, man.”

I paused. “Guns? Seriously? After the stink Hyde kicked up seven years back when Chops even suggested it?”

“Yep. Want to know the juiciest part of all this?”

I looked over at him. “Spit it out, Porter.”

He clicked his tongue. “I caught wind a few weeks ago that Chops has been cherry-picking guys from the club to run drugs on the side. Only reason I know this is because I overheard a conversation in the back rooms I shouldn’t have heard.”

My mind raced back to the night of the bust. I thought about the drugs that had been in the trunk of the car, and the drugs that Porter says they found in Hyde’s house.

Did Chops know about any of this?

Was this Chops’ plan all along?

Fuck, I’ve been upset with the wrong man all these goddamn years.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner?” I growled.

Porter chuckled in my ear. “What? You want me to strut my shit into a prison, start talking about illegal shit, and just walk right on out?”

I sighed. “Good point.”

“I kept you as updated as I could with the letters and shit. But all of this nonsense got to be too much for me. I’m sorry, man.”

I shook my head. “No apology necessary. I get it.”

“Do you—do you think Chops set up Hyde?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as the wind wrapped around my body. “I just can’t bring myself to think something like that. I mean the word of mouth is there, sure. But there’s no hard evidence. Chops and Hyde were best friends ever since childhood. It takes a lot to break that bond.”

“Like more money and more power.”

I swallowed hard, desperate to change the subject. “Have you heard from Raven at all since this shit took place?”

“Nah, and I can’t say I blame her.”

“Have you been checking on her? Making sure she’s got what she needs?”

He snickered. “From afar, sure. But the one time I knocked on her door, all she did was slap me across the cheek. She’s got a pretty decent back-hand, too.”

I chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“However, I’ve been going and keeping tabs on her at work and her place once or twice a week. She seems to be doing all right. Works full-time at the daycare now. Renovated her townhouse a couple of years back.”

I nodded. “Good, good. Let’s make sure she stays okay and out of this bullshit until we can drill down to the meat of it.”

“Come again?”

I took the exit we needed and set my sights for the clubhouse. “You and I are gonna figure out what really happened that night. We’re going to avenge Hyde’s and Gage’s deaths, figure out where the fuck these drugs have come from, and get the club back in working order.”

He barked with laughter. “Here fucking here to that, brother.”