Turns out, that wasn’t the best approach for our relationship.
I got more desperate to try and speak to her. She got more desperate to create some space. And…
Things were becoming clearer in my mind about what had gone wrong. Gone was the emotional turbulence in which I thought she’d acted as a real bitch, and gone was the ensuing guilt in which I felt like an utter ass. Replacing both polar emotions was a more rational thought to it all.
We’d both fucked up.
Plain and simple. I was too much of a pusher; she was too much of a puller. I didn’t know that we’d ever get a second chance, but if—
Someone’s coming.
I stepped out of the clubhouse, anticipating a visit from a Black Reaper, and prepared for the worst case of a Devil’s Patriot. I stood outside, my hands by my hips, inches away from my gun if I would need it.
But once again, I had nothing to worry about. It was just Sonny.The hell is it with the officers coming in on their day off? They should be at home sleeping.
“The hell you doing here, kid?” I said.
“Come here to have an orgy with some club bunnies,” he said without breaking stride. “Isn’t that what you do on your days off?”
“That would be a good-ass reward for prospects becoming members. But seriously, the hell you doing here?”
Sonny bit his lip and sighed.
“I can’t stay away from this club when shit starts going down.”
The fuck does that mean?Knowing him and Satan were literal family, though, I shut my mouth. It wasn’t my place to know family gossip, even if ninety-nine percent of the time that spilled over into club shit.
“We should be looking at uniting with the Black Reapers.”
Oh, shit.
“I’m worried Da…I’m worried Satan is getting caught up in a power struggle, a political one, when we need to be practical.”
“What do you mean?”
I already knew full well the answer to the question. I was no fucking dummy. But sometimes, it paid to be the dummy. Better to have people underestimate how smart you were or how much you knew so they’d fill you in that to make them not share shit with you.
Sonny looked past me.
“This is between us as officers, OK? I’m worried about him as a son, not as a president. The fallout from playing politics too much might be bloody, and my dad is a proud man. He’s run this club since I was a kid, since back when he wouldn’t let me here because it was ‘where the adults played.’ As far as I’m aware, we’ve never had a threat like this in our lifetime. Ever. It’s really damn easy to get fat and lazy when you’ve never had a threat, and then to refuse any and all advances when one does come. But we can’t fucking do that right now.”
Holy shit.
So not only were the other clubs seemingly not as united as I’d thought, what with some coldness between Brock and Lane, but now it appeared we weren’t even fully united in our own club. Was it any wonder that the Black Reapers were worried about King?
He may have ruled with an iron grip, but he had cohesion all the same, or at least the appearance of it. He had a group of well-oiled killers that would come in and attack, and he had such confidence in himself he’d literally stay in a hotel room with an open window in downtown Phoenix. We had a group that didn’t like each other trying to persuade us to join, and now I learned like father, not like son in our own club.
“We should talk about this in church, Sonny,” I said, trying to play the diplomatic role as best as I could. “I—”
“I’m asking you this because he might listen to you.”
I gulped. I did not agree with that at all. Satan listened to no one.
“Or at least, he might listen to both of us if we speak up together.”
Maybe.
But that was still incredibly risky.
