“Because they’re some of the few holding steadfast to those old traditions.” He folds his arms, tilting his head a little. “I agree that we need to change with the times. Hell, I’m the first to argue it with the old boys. But the more we progress, the greater the divide between clubs like ours and them grows.”
“And the fewer people we have interested in becoming a part of the life, which puts us in a situation like we are now.”
“Exactly.”
I sigh, glancing towards Vanessa’s house and all it represents of our assimilation into the mainstream. “I don’t know what you expect us to do about it.”
“I wish I had the answer.” Loki runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his head as he looks toward the ground. “It’s not something we can continue to ignore, though.”
“You’re right.” I draw a deep breath. “It’s not. But it’s also not something we can rush to solve just because the Breed are breathing down our necks.”
He shrugs.
“If we want to replenish our numbers with strong, loyal people who’re just as intent on keeping our way of life alive, then we need to be selective in who we invite inside these walls.” Inod to the pile of steel panels. “We can’t risk letting somebody in who’ll fold at the first sign of trouble or be easily bought out by a rival club. They have to be solid, Loki.”
“I don’t dispute it.”
“Leave it with me,” I say on a sigh. “I’ll talk to Chaos about a strategy for the future, and we’ll bring it to the table.”
“Sure.” Loki turns to return to his work.
“Hey.” I tip my chin as I call after him, waiting for the guy to turn to face me before I continue. “You didn’t react much when Chaos suggested the old boys. Why’s that?”
His jaw flexes, and he avoids my eye as he answers. “Because I put Dad in a home last week.”
The fuck?“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“To protect his pride as much as anything else.” Loki wets his lips, running his teeth across the bottom one before he stiffly adds, “He has dementia, Jinx. He gets confused a lot, and it scares him.” His gaze lifts to meet mine. “That’s not the Tinker everyone remembers. I’d rather keep their memories how they are.”
A rock lodges in my throat as I swallow. “I’m sorry, man.”
“It is what it is.” He turns and ends the conversation, walking away a little slower.
My chest aches, a phantom terror tickling at my muscles as I set the steel bar down and place my hands on my hips.Fuck.That’s the sum of it, really, isn’t it? We’re tough as nails, hardened by this life, until humanity catches up with us and reminds us that beneath the leather, road grime, and oil, we’re men.
Mere men.
And we fall just as hard as the rest of them.
Maybe we are a dying breed?
FOURTEEN
KYRA
“Officer Green,”the pastor greets as we make our way out of church with the other parishioners. “Lovely to see you as always, Shauna.” His shrewd eyes shift to me. “And who do we have here? Kyra Green. It has been a while.” He offers his hands.
I clamp mine tighter over my purse, tugging down so the thin leather strap bites into my shoulder. “It has.” I haven’t missed this part of Temperance one bit. The posturing. The pretenses. The veiled smiles and the razor-sharp criticism wielded between carefully chosen pleasantries.
The pastor shifts his attention back to my father. “Is she here to stay?”
Sheis right here. Andshecan answer for herself. “For the foreseeable future, but who knows what opportunities may arise to lead me to greener pastures again.”
“Hghm.” The disgust is evident in the sound that strains from his tight throat. “I think you’ll find Temperance to be everything you need now that you’re older.” His gaze drops the length of me to take note of my skirt that lands above the knee—so damn quick you could swear it didn’t happen. Yet the crawling ick over my body says otherwise.
“Come on.” Mom gently grabs me by the elbow. “Let’s find somewhere to sit while your father does his thing.”
His thing: talk to every attendee who remains, gathering tidbits of information, and gleaning insider knowledge without the fools knowing they give up a single thing to the Sheriff.
