Smoking Aces: Revenge is King's

Chapter 3

King

When I got to Ginger's residence, I didn't have to do much looking. By the time I got there I spotted her coming out of the building with a scarf wrapped around her head and a pair of dark sunglasses on her face. With that and the way she was suspiciously looking around, she might as well had lit up a beacon. She was practically giving away her location. I was parked across the street as I watched her jump into the backseat of car and drive away. I followed close behind making sure not to give myself away. Maybe she knew more than Jed thought she did. Maybe she'd lead me to this money and a couple of answers.

The car dropped her off in front of a motel and she got out. I parked my hog down the street and watched as she paid at the front desk and then walk to room number nine. She was preparing to run, no doubt about it, she just didn't know how. She was stopping here to get her thoughts together and come up with a plan. This whole situation had taken a large chunk out of my day, and I still had other stops to make. Ginger would be holed up in there for a while until she figured out her next move which gave me some time to do other things. I paid the manager a nice sum of money and wrote down my phone number, instructing him to call me if Ginger made a move. I paid him extra to keep her occupied until I got there as well.

I then hopped back on my bike and headed off to my next destination. As I got closer to my stomping grounds, a sense of nostalgia washed over me. Like a vision, I could see me and Alex riding our motorbikes around the area, doing donuts. Shit, being here again was stirring up so many damn emotions and memories. Shaking it off, I pulled into the garage of the house that read 301 and parked my bike. I walked up the stairs and, after taking a deep breath, knocked on the door. The door opened and before I knew it, I was being wrapped into the tightest hug ever.

"I want to make sure I'm not imagining this." she sobbed.

"Hey, mama." I said hugging her back.

She broke the hug and grabbed my face in her hands. "My sweet baby boy. I can't believe it's you." she said with tears falling from her eyes.

She kissed me, then hugged me again. After she finally decided to let go, we went inside to catch up. She led me to the kitchen where she was cooking up a storm and damn if I didn't miss my mother's cooking.

"I'm making funeral plans but they're holding off releasing his body to us, they're doing an autopsy for the case." she sniffed. "I know it's against the norm." she stated.

She was right, of course. When something like this goes down and we lose one of our own, we don't go to the cops. We handle the shit internally.

"But, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to find the motherfucker that killed my baby."

"That's why I'm here." I said and she looked up and smiled at me.

"I hate that it takes something like this to get you back home."

"You know why I had to go and why I don't come back."

She lit a cigarette and nodded. "I get it Xander, I really do. You've got a lot of anger you're harboring but it's misplaced. The club needs you and you need the club."

"I've been doing just fine without it."

"That cut may say Nomad but you're still wearing the colors." she reminded.

My mother, Roxanne "Roxy" Royal, was the epitome of strength. Although my father and uncle founded Smoking Aces, she was the glue that kept everything together. She was the definition of a ride or die female, no matter what happened she was always there by my father's side. Like most biker females she had some ink; she had Alex and my name grouped in with our fathers on her chest and it was entwined by thorns and roses forming an infinity sign. She had Smoking Aces on the back right shoulder and their colors on her arm. She had a few more but not as much as me and Alex. It seemed like for every experience I've encountered in my life I got a tattoo. Both my right and left arms were covered in ink as well as the top of my back and chest. I had KING on my back with a crown resting on the back of my neck, hanging over it. It had been my road name since I was thirteen and what I was still called to this day.