Ghost points toward the door that leads to the back patio. "Outside with Reaper."
That stops me cold. "With Reaper? Why?"
"Don't know. They were talking, looked serious." Ghost studies my expression. "Problem?"
"No." I try to sound casual. "Just curious."
I head for the patio, wondering what the hell Maddie could be discussing with our President. When I push open the door, I find them sitting at one of the picnic tables, heads bent close in conversation. They both look up when I approach.
"Dice," Reaper nods. "Just having a chat with your brother's friend here."
Maddie's expression gives nothing away, but there's a tension on her shoulders that wasn't there before.
"All good?" I ask, looking between them.
"All good," Reaper confirms, standing. "Just making sure she's not here to cause any problems." He looks at Maddie again. "The Outlaw Order takes care of its own. That includes family of prospects."
As he walks past me, he gives me a warning look I can't quite decipher. Once he's gone, I slide onto the bench across from Maddie.
"Want to tell me what that was about?"
She shrugs, but it's too casual. "Your President was just making sure I'm not some undercover cop or rival club spy."
"And are you?" I ask it jokingly, but part of me is genuinely curious.
She lights a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating her face. "If I was, would I tell you?"
"Probably not."
"Exactly." She blows smoke rings toward the night sky. "But no, I'm just here for James. Your President seems... protective."
"He is." I study her face in the dim patio lights. "The club's been through some shit. Reaper doesn't take chances with strangers."
"Smart man." She taps ash off her cigarette. "He asked a lot of questions about James too."
"Well, none of them have met him yet. Just heard my stories."
"Oh? And what have you told them?" There's amusement in her voice.
"The truth. That he's my brother. That he's done time. That he's..." I search for the right words.
"A one-man crime wave?" she offers.
I laugh. "Something like that."
"Did you tell them he's the reason you're not in prison too?" Her question catches me off guard.
"What do you mean?"
"James told me. About the night you almost got caught boosting cars. How he took the fall for you."
I feel my jaw tighten. That was three years ago. "That was his choice."
"It was." She nods. "He'd do anything for you, you know."
"I know." The familiar guilt gnaws at me. "Why do you think I visit him every week? Why I worked my contacts to get him transferred closer?"
"He appreciates it, even if he doesn't say it." She stands suddenly, crushing her cigarette under her boot. "But he worries about you."
