When Pops died, Bull panicked. He gave Jimmy evidence, actual physical evidence, of the club tied into all sorts of illegal shit. Insurance. His way of making sure we didn’t slit his throat for everything he’d done.
It backfired.
Because I slit that fucker’s throat anyway. The same day I buried my dad.
And ever since, Jimmy’s had us by the balls.
His latest threat? Photos of Tap and Cole, our enforcers, taking out a police officer. That alone would bury this club forever.
Going back to crime wasn’t a decision I took lightly. Pops wanted us clean. I wanted that too. But clean clubs don’t survive long, not without money. So, we voted as a club. And we compromised. We don’t deal drugs or guns, but we move them for others. We pick up. Drop off. Keep a distance. Keep clean enough.
Our biggest client right now? Jimmy.
Him and his idiot brother are parasites. Greedy. Reckless. Street rats who think a few months of fast cash makes them kings. We’ve always dealt with organised men. Men with codes. Boundaries. These two? They’re chaos. They’re dangerous. They’re the kind of trouble that spreads like rot.
And Liam’s already using the shit they sell. He’s a liability. A bomb waiting to go off. I don’t trust men who can’t even control their own product.
“I’ve sent the prospect to follow them home,” I mutter.
Diesel freezes. “Seriously? You sent Rabbit?”
“Rabbit can handle it.” He’s been prospecting for a year, and he’s solid. Loyal. Sharp.
Diesel grabs his bike keys, his jaw clenched tightly. “My ol’ lady is out there with those fuckers watching her. We need to start taking him seriously, Kade. He isn’t going away.”
He storms out of the clubhouse, leaving my office door rattling behind him.
Stacks is over by the bar. “Follow Diesel,” I tell him, and he leaves without a single question.
Twenty minutes later, Diesel reappears—furious—and Eden storms in right behind him. She doesn’t say a word, just marches straight past me with that look.Herlook. The one that means,Follow me. Now.
I close the office door behind us, and she spins on her heel.
“What’s going on?” I give her my most innocent shrug. She doesn’t buy it. “Kade!”
“Nothing’s going on, Queenie. I told you, they’re from days of old. Back when Pops was running in dark circles.”
“Bullshit.”
My eyes narrow. “Mouth.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Don’t curse.”
We stare each other down, me trying to shut the conversation down, her refusing to let it go. She knows exactly what I’m doing.
“He called me Queenie,” she says, one brow arched high. The statement lands like a punch to the gut. That piece of shit usedmyname for my ol’ lady. I move behind my desk, sit down to hide the way my jaw clenches. “He saw the lingerie I bought.”
My head snaps up. “Huh?”
“He said it would suit me and you’re a very lucky man.”
A slow burn ignites in my chest. Jealousy. Rage.Something dark.
“Okay, yeah, that’s weird,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “But nothing is going on. I’ll deal with the lingerie, stalking, whatever-the-fuck behaviour. It’s handled.”
She plants both palms on my desk, leaning in until her eyes are level with mine. “Kade, are you doing shit you shouldn’t? Because if you’re involved in things—”
