Blood in the Water (Kairos) Read Online Free PDF Page B

couldn’t even go visit with the little shit’s parents.
     
    Moira’s soft hands snaked across the Formica and covered his white-knuckled fists.  “Don’t you fret, Samuel.  Dean broke that boy’s nose.  That’s how come he’s suspended for so long.”
     
    Moira gave his fists a little shake, but Samuel still didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, not until he was convinced that there was a better chance of words coming out instead of his anguish.
     
    “I had a word with Principal Schaeffer.  They’re not suspendin’ the boy since he’s goin’ to be home so long recoverin’ anyway.  They seem to think it’ll be counterproductive.  But I made sure they knew that I backed my boy on this and that I would do again.”
     
    Samuel had no doubt that the Principal had seen the side of Moira that most people would throw themselves into a burning tar pit to avoid encountering, Samuel included.
     
    “You just get yourself home soon, cher.  Get home for your little girl and your boy.  Get home for me.”
     
     

1993 – Part Two
     
    Finally, the day had dawned.  It might have been Samuel’s imagination, but he thought perhaps the sun shone a little brighter this early summer’s morning.  He had no doubt that he would be dicked about for hours yet with official bureaucracy, but he could bear it.  Today was the day he got to go home, to his club, to his family.  Today was the day he got to be the man he knew he was again.
     
    Terry had come back with the club’s answer for their involvement with Rojas scheme.  It was a go, but the club didn’t want any wheels in motion without Samuel.  As far as they were concerned, he was the link to the Rojas, the element of essential trust necessary for the exercise to work effectively.  Eduardo had understood. It was a natural caveat and not a surprise.  All the arrangements were in place for a very profitable alliance as soon as Samuel took his seat again at the head of the Priests’ table. 
     
    ~o0o~
     
    Samuel hadn’t been wrong; it was well into the middle of the afternoon by the time he’d been processed out of the prison.  The guards escorted him to the perimeter gate, as if they didn’t trust him to actually leave, which amused the hell out of Samuel.  The humidity was high, but even so it was better to be outside than in.  There was no air conditioning inside the prison walls.  The clothes he’d been wearing when he’d entered the prison years ago were a lot too tight now; following years of physical labor, he was broader just about everywhere.  Between them Terry and Moira had ensured he had jeans and a t-shirt that fit him, a little grease money had made sure that the new outfit hadn’t gone missing.
     
    He couldn’t hold back the smile that split his face at the sight of his brothers waiting for him.  They were keeping a respectful distance from the prison perimeter, but as he neared they parted to reveal his pride and joy, his ‘79 Fat Bob.  They’d polished the paintwork and chrome until it gleamed.  The reflected sunlight almost blinded him.  His smile only grew as he left the prison grounds well and truly behind and was engulfed by hugs and back-slaps.  It was Terry that handed him his kutte.  He slipped it on, feeling like a piece of his skin that he hadn’t known was missing had been grafted back to his body.  The weight of the leather on his shoulders was a balm for the portion of his life that he’d never regain.
     
    The ride back to the clubhouse was as exhilarating as the first ride he’d ever taken.  Fuck but it’d been a long time, too long, far too long.  Right then and there he made an oath to himself that he was never going down for a stretch that long again.  No way, no how.  If his kutte was his skin, his bike was his heart.  The paltry muscle in his chest had been beating for the last six years, performing the functionary job of pushing blood around his sorry carcass, but this machine beneath