“That good, huh?” I can hear the sarcasm in his voice without even looking over at him. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
It’s criticism. He’s ridiculing me for even walking away with that girl. He’s upset because I didn’t push her away at first sight, and if I had to guess, he’s outright pissed that I followed through.
“How was Andover?” He was heading out just as I was being led down the hallway with Cherry, nicknamed aptly due to her hair color.
He stiffens beside me, realizing that I’m going to fight fire with fire. Something has been niggling in my gut, and I know he doesn’t want me to focus on it. If he’s smart, he’ll stay very far away from any conversation concerning Candi.
“It’ll never be the same,” he replies, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Your brother is psychotic.”
“I’ve known that since he was eight.” I lift the coffee cup to my mouth, only to lower it again when I remember that I’ve been out here for over an hour already. The coffee is cold, just like my damn bed.
“He was extra brutal last night,” he clarifies.
His comment startles me. “I figured you’d be the one to dispense justice.”
“I’m a badass,” he grunts, “But four against one are odds I won’t take with civilians.”
I nod, understanding completely. Gangs, other MCs, criminals, we have a code. We retaliate; we don’t call the cops. Disposing of people who act like upstanding citizens in the light of day and deviants at night requires a little more finesse. Those people have families and mothers who make phone calls and send emails to TV stations and shit. We have enough going on. We don’t need the damn publicity or scrutiny on the club while we’re still transitioning.
We sit in silence for what feels like hours or days or a millennia. The sun continues its slow arc across the sky, and the weight of the world presses heavily down on my shoulders. I’m numb, but not in an indifferent way. Everything is coming at me. There’s so much to get done, so many things that require my attention, but still, I just sit here.
The front door opens, and I smell the soft fragrance of her perfume before she even steps out on the porch.
My cock, conditioned to respond when she’s near, kicks in my jeans, but still, I stare at the horizon. I can’t look at her. I don’t want to see if she’s in pain or worse yet if she’s apathetic to what she saw last night.
“We’re going to the mall with the girls,” Molly says sweetly.
“Prez?” Briar says, seeking my approval.
The standing rule is that Molly and Candi don’t leave the compound. We know Andover police are looking for Candi as a person of interest in the frat arson, but we aren’t sure if Molly has been implicated. After what TJ and Briar did last night, however, this may be the only time they get to leave here for a long while before all hell breaks loose.
“Take a prospect,” I mutter.
Molly squeals, delighted with the permission to leave after long weeks of being trapped behind the gate and turns to run off the porch before I can change my mind.
“We only have one prospect,” Briar reminds me.
Fucking Ronan.
“Take Smalls,” I amend.
Molly waves over her shoulder, letting me know she heard me, but she doesn’t slow her stride into the back of the clubhouse. Candi never even glances my way. I never feel her eyes on me.
“She didn’t even spare me a single look,” I mutter, snapping my jaw closed when I realize I said that out loud.
Briar must be feeling generous because he doesn’t add anything to the slip. Bless his dark soul, he changes the topic altogether.
“You know that snitch we had trailing Miller?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s gone.”
“Like dead?” I turn my head to look at him. He was a damn decent tracker, but being former military in some covert ops group or some shit before he got hooked on heroin contributed to his skill set.
“Like off the grid. Vanished.”
“No one vanishes,” I mutter, another one of Cowboy’s sayings.
“Some people just don’t want to be found,” Briar quotes. “Regardless, he’s gone, and we have no idea where Miller is either.”
“I need you to get eyes back on that fucker. He’s volatile these days. I don’t want him sneaking up on us.” A cold chill rolls over my skin, remembering the last time Dietrich Miller stepped foot on our property. “As far as the snitch, he wouldn’t be the first one to ghost on us. He’s probably face down, OD’d in an alley somewhere.”
“I have a bad feeling about this one, but I have a couple guys on it,” Briar assures me. “I just wanted you to know.”
My eyes refocus on the sun. It’s bright enough now that looking at it makes a headache begin to form at the base of my skull.