Grabbing the bottle off his nightstand, he took a long, deep swallow and washed away the burn of humiliation with a different kind.

He was on his fourth chug when his bedroom door swung wide open and hit the wall with a loud crack. He didn’t bother turning.

“You know what fuckin’ time it is?” a loud, angry, familiar voice demanded.

Cage didn’t turn his head. “Do I fuckin’ care?”

“Bitch,” Deuce said. “Get your clothes on and get the fuck out.”

Behind him, Cage heard the girl scrambling to get off the bed. A few moments later his door slammed closed and heavy footsteps crossed the room. His father’s face came into view, far too close and a little blurry. Cage wrinkled up his nose. “Back the fuck up, old man.”

Deuce’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t know what you been doin’? Half the time you ain’t even smart enough to clean off your fuckin’ nose.”

Cage snorted and Deuce’s nostrils flared. “Somethin’ funny?”

“Yeah. It’s funny that you think I give two fucks if you know or not.”

“My boys don’t fuckin’ use,” he growled. “You know this.”

“Yeah?” Cage shot back. “Tell that to Bucket.”

Deuce stood up straight and glared down at him. “Bucket’s got side business goin’ on, he ain’t usin’ shit. You’d know this if you picked your fuckin’ head up outta the powder for a fuckin’ minute.”

Cage took another long swallow of Jack before looking up at his father. “No, asshole, I’d know it if you actually told me somethin’ once in a while instead of treatin’ me like shit on your fuckin’ shoe.”

“You a little fuckin’ girl?” Deuce demanded. “You need me to wipe your goddamn ass for you too?”

Cage’s temper flared to life and before he knew what he was doing, he was whipping the bottle of Jack across the room. He shot to his feet, eye to eye with his father, just as it hit the wall and shattered.

“You’re a shit father, you know that?” he yelled. “You’re a shit person too! Yet you get handed every fuckin’ thing, none of it deserved!”

Moments later Cage was pinned up against the wall by his throat, his father up in his face. “You think I don’t fuckin’ know it?” Deuce spat. “You think I ain’t grateful, you’re motherfuckin’ wrong! I’ve been where the fuck you are, you little shit. I’ve been pissed off at the whole motherfuckin’ world, I’ve been fuckin’ shot a fuck of a lot more than you, and unlike you, I had an old man who didn’t give a motherfuck if I lived or died.”

Cage smirked. His old man thought he gave a fuck that he’d gotten shot. He didn’t. In fact, his old man could shoot him right the fuck now and he still wouldn’t give a fuck.

“So what you’re sayin’,” Cage drawled, “is that I should be followin’ in your fuckin’ footsteps, get you shanked in the showers like you did to your old man?”

Deuce’s nostrils flared.

“Shit’s been goin’ on long enough,” he growled, squeezing Cage’s throat. “Time for you to flush your fuckin’ bullshit and get back to livin’.”

Living? Fucking living?

Rage boiled up inside of him and he found himself gripping his father’s wrist and yanking the man’s hands off his throat.

“FUCK YOU!” he roared, shoving Deuce backward and immediately advancing on him. “You call my life living? I ain’t livin’! I’ve just been followin’ you around, pickin’ up your fuckin’ messes! I ain’t never had anything that was mine!”

He shoved Deuce again. “It’s all been yours! All of it! The club, the boys, Eva and the kids! They’re all fuckin’ yours! I got nothin’! Fuckin’ nothin’!”

Cage would have known it was coming but as it was he was too pumped up on drug-fueled adrenaline and didn’t see his father’s fist until after it had collided with his face.

Lying on the floor, rubbing his jaw, he blinked up at his father’s towering form.

“You really are fuckin’ stupid,” Deuce said roughly. “You’re my fuckin’ kid, my son, and everything I have, it’s always been yours. Who you think I’m passin’ that gavel to?”

“Fuck your gavel,” Cage sneered. “Fuck your club and fuck you.”

Deuce stared down at him for a heartbeat and then he turned away.

Cage continued to lie on the floor long after his bedroom door had slammed shut.

Fuck his old man. Fuck this club. And fuck himself.

But most of all…

Fuck Tegen.

• • •

His head a mess, Deuce stormed out of Cage’s room, slammed the door closed behind him, and took off down the hall.

His kid was going to die if he kept this shit up. Barely a year after ZZ had blown two holes through his lung and he was not only still smoking but blowing lines and who knew what else. Fucking dirty whores too.

Sighing angrily, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Where the fuck did he keep going wrong? No matter what he fucking did, it was never enough, not for any of them. Except Eva. She was the lone person on this earth he’d ever been enough for.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered. “I’d be fuckin’ screwed without her.”

One thing was true: In this fucking life, the dirty business he ran, you needed a good woman backing you. A strong one. One who knew her place; one who would be there for you no matter what. A woman a man could count on to give him what he needed when he fucking needed it.

“How’s the boy?” Mick asked as Deuce slid onto the barstool beside him. Reaching over the bar, Deuce slapped the back of Blue’s head, but the drunk old fucker didn’t so much as twitch.

“Fucked.”

“Reminds me a lot of his old man,” Mick said.

Deuce gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah? How fuckin’ so? I ain’t never used.”

Grabbing the glass in front of him, Mick downed the last of his whiskey. “Didn’t say it was the exact same. Said he reminded me of you. After Eva ran out on ya. Difference was, you had too many responsibilities to be fuckin’ up so bad. Cage don’t have jack shit to do but fuck up.”

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Deuce asked, grabbing for the bottle in front of Mick. “Ain’t nobody run out on Cage. Idiot got himself shot because of…”

Deuce trailed off and his chest began to tighten.

He glanced over at Mick and Mick gave him a grim smile.

“Tegen,” Deuce finished.

“Tegen,” Mick repeated, nodding his agreement.

“You tryin’ to tell me he loves her?”

“Think about it,” Mick said as he shoved off his barstool. “He was all up on her during lockdown last year, every damn second, and I ain’t never seen him pay a female any more attention than it took to get his dick sucked until her. Then she’s sneakin’ out on him in the middle of the night and he’s actin’ like a damn fool because of it. Next thing you know, he’s haulin’ ass to Cali and instead of goin’ to Oakland, he heads straight to her.”

Deuce closed his eyes. Fuck. Tegen hadn’t snuck out. He’d pushed her out the damn door.

“I gotta get home, Prez. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

He watched as Mick headed out and when he was alone, other than Blue passed out on the bar, he placed his elbows on the counter and dropped his head in his hands.

He’d fucked up. Again. In the midst of his rage, thinking he was about to lose his son, he’d placed all that blame on Tegen, told her to get the fuck out, and stay the fuck away.

Except none of that shit had been her fault. It was ZZ’s fault for pulling the trigger, it was Cage’s fault for pulling his piece in the first place, and it was his own fault for not realizing that whatever was between his son and Tegen went deeper than he’d thought.

Now what?

Dorothy had told Eva she wanted nothing to do with the club, Tegen hadn’t even tried to see Cage, and Cage was a fucking wreck.

So, yeah, now fucking what?

“Old man,” he barked, tossing a coaster in Blue’s direction. It hit the top of the man’s head and bounced off. “Could use some of that wiseass wisdom of yours right about now.”

Nothing.

“BLUE!” Deuce bellowed. “Wake the fuck up!”

Nothing.

Cursing, Deuce got up out of his seat and walked the few feet between them. Grabbing Blue’s arm, he pulled and shook. “Motherfucker,” he growled. “How much did you have today?”

Nothing.

When he let go of Blue’s arm, the limb fell limp and heavy at his side, and all at once the old man’s body began to slump. Deuce grabbed him before he could slide to the floor and heaved him up in his seat. As Blue’s head rolled back, panic rose in Deuce’s gut.

The fucker’s eyes were wide open.

“Blue!” he yelled, hauling him off the seat and laying him out flat on the floor. He bent his head over Blue’s mouth and nose and went still. He wasn’t breathing.

Panic turned to fear and Deuce’s chest locked up like a vice.

“Blue! Dammit, Blue!”

Pinching the man’s nose closed, Deuce covered Blue’s mouth with his own and breathed into it. Chest compressions were next. More breathing.

And, nothing.

“Blue!” he bellowed, his fists clenching. “Wake the motherfuck up!”

Tears pricked his eyes and his clenched fists came crashing down on Blue’s chest. “Wake up, you stupid old fuck! Wake the fuck up!”

Breathing hard, his chest aching, Deuce staggered to his feet. With shaking hands, he reached inside his cut for his cell phone when suddenly sharp pain sliced up his left arm and straight into his chest. His cell phone dropped to the floor and both his hands flew to his chest.

More pain followed and his throat tightened.

“Jesus,” he gasped, clawing at the center of his chest. The pain was so great, dizzying, that his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.

Desperate, he reached out, searching blindly for his phone, but the pain was everywhere now. In his chest and neck, in both of his arms. It felt like he was being squeezed from the inside out with a rope made of razor blades.