“For your sake, I hope you’re right,” he said. “I don’t need my sergeant-at-arms getting caught up in the same pussy trap he did a few years ago.”
I let out a long snort, trying not to lose my cool this early. I’d already had it with Melissa this morning. Last thing I needed to do was provoke a civil war in this place.
But fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on if King had gotten any information over—the Black Reapers’ motorcycles sounded in the air, their arrival imminent. The three of us rose from our chairs.
“Sure do a shit ton of talking and negotiating,” I said.
“They’re very serious about taking out King,” Sonny said. “I just don’t think they want to budge to us.”
“But they’re desperate.”
Satan nodded.
“So we’re stringing them along.”
“As best as we can,” Sonny said. “At some point, though, killing him overrides any gains we could get.”
Father looked to son in annoyance, a clear indication that he didn’t agree. I kept my mouth shut, but I was starting to think that if Sonny were president, things would operate very differently here. Better or worse, I couldn’t say, but the only thing worse than disagreement and misalignment between allies was that within families.
A prospect hurried to the door and held it open. The usual crowd came—Lane, Brock, Mason…but not Butch. This time, Cole showed up instead. It was quite the visual contrast to go from Mountain Man to Tiny Man, but Cole’s presence always cast a shadow larger than he actually was.
“Gentlemen,” Satan said. “Lane, Brock, you know the drill, follow me. Spawn, keep these two company, won’t you?”
Everyone nodded in accordance with their expected role. Lane and Brock followed Satan and Sonny into the clubhouse. Mason and Cole headed to the couch. I grabbed them each a beer and handed it to them.
Mason gave me no look.
Which was kind of a problem—there wasnolook at all. It was like he was deliberately avoiding looking at me, which was something he hadn’t done before.He knows.
This is a fucking problem.
My best hope for the next hour or so, however long everyone in church needed, was that Mason and I just sit in absolute silence. Cole would pick up on it—maybe he even knew about it already. But it wasn’t lost on me that Cole sat between Mason and me and had made it a point to ask Mason to scoot over.
I sighed. It was going to be awkward as fuck for the next hour.
As it turned out, though, I barely had to wait five minutes.
“You used to be one of them, didn’t you?”
I wasn’t looking at Mason when he said it. And he wasn’t looking at me. Probably because we both knew that the instant we looked at each other, some shit might go down.
At first, I pretended not to hear him as a means to figure out what I’d say. Lie? I could plausibly argue that the King’s Men were trying to wedge us apart. But if it came out later that that was the truth, there’d be blood. If I told the truth now, there might still be blood, but…
“Answer me, Spawn.”
Mason now looked at me, and from the hatred and intensity in his eyes, I could see it didn’t much matter what I said. He’d already made up his mind about my guilt.
“Yes.”
Mason sighed loudly. Cole leaned forward, but if Mason really wanted to, he’d run through Cole on the spot and do whatever the hell he wanted.
“And you didn’t think to fucking tell me?”
I took a breath to try and speak as calmly as I could.
“I didn’t fucking tell you because I didn’t fucking have anything to do with what happened to your girl,” I said. “I was there when it was talked about. I refused. I said she was innocent, and there was no reason to. I got shit for it. I was already moving away, but I was never happier than that moment to be moving away than that.”
“You didn’t stop them.”
