But as I grab my phone and check the alert, I’m left disappointed. My racing pulse slows as I look down and discover the message isn’t from Solana.
It’s from Rachel.
Don’t be late to Jack’s game Saturday. It would mean a lot if you actually showed up on time.
I sigh and don’t bother responding. Rachel’s been baiting me for an argument for weeks now. Ever since that evening I turned up for dinner with the babysitter.
But receiving a text from Rachel moments after speaking to Solana only highlights one thing—how one woman has come to fill me with happiness and anticipation and even humor, while the other does nothing but weigh me down with dread and bitterness.
I pocket my phone and switch off the living room lights. I’m not sure what to make of that, but for now I’m going to focus on what’s important.
Being a father to my kids. Sorting out this club situation with Tom.
And being there for Solana, any time, any place.
Tom calls a meeting for ranking members only, which sets everybody involved on edge. Usually, we include everybody with a patch, not just officers and board members.
But here we are come Wednesday afternoon—me, Cash, Ozzie, Tito, Bush, Logan, and Mace, who looks like he’d rather be getting a root canal without anesthesia.
He sits at the far end of the table, arms crossed, green eyes burning with barely contained rage. The fact he showed up at allis a miracle, but he hasn’t said a word to anybody. He simply sits at the table radiating hostility.
Tito calls the meeting to order, and Ozzie tries making a joke about being dragged here at the asscrack of dawn.
The mood’s too tense for anybody to indulge him.
Tom’s pacing around the table, beer in hand, his boots clunking against the hardwood floor. He’s taking his time, making us wait as if we’re on his schedule, not ours.
“This club’s gone soft,” he starts. I have to fight not to roll my eyes. Same song, different verse. “We’ve been dormant. Acting like pussies, tucking our tails between our legs. We need to stop playing defense. Time to go on the offense. Remind people who we are.”
I can’t hold back anymore. “Makes no sense to pick fights just to pick them. What do we actually gain?”
Tom stops pacing and flashes his yellow-toothed, crooked grin. “How about reputation? We gain reputation by proving we’re dominant. By showing we’re not to be fucked with.”
“We already have a reputation,” Logan adds, calm but stony. A different brand of hostility than his younger brother. “If you’d been around, you’d know that.”
“The only reputation you’ve got is that it’s cool to fuck with the Steel Kings,” Tom sneers back, sparing his son a look. “I’ve heard all about it from Silver here. The Hellrazors, the Road Rebels, the Barreras. That shitshow with Asa Boone and Carlito Estrada. Even some fucking cult, for Christ’s sake.”
“You’re missing the part where we kicked every single one of their asses,” Logan says.
“And you’re missing the fucking point,” he snaps. “None of that would’ve happened ifIwas here. IfIwas in charge. Nobody would’ve ever dared in the first fucking place.”
I release a deep breath, teeth grinding together. The man’s delusional if he thinks his presence alone would’ve prevented those conflicts.
Matter of fact, I’d argue he could’ve made some of them worse. Cash speaks up before I can.
“You have no way of knowing that,” he interjects, keeping his tone diplomatic.
“That’s just talk, hermano,” Tito agrees, mixing Spanish into his frustration. “Pura mierda.”
Tom waves them off like they’re flies buzzing around his head. He takes another long drink from his beer and goes on. “Yeah right. Now I hear the Peñas threatened us. Disrespected us to our face, trying to turnusinto theirmules. So we’re gonna strike first. Send a message. Tomorrow night, we hit their merchandise shipment coming up from Mexico. Hit ’em where it hurts—their wallet.”
Mace can’t hold back another second. He explodes.
He shoots to his feet so fast his chair crashes backward, the sound echoing through the room. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!”
Tom straightens, his watery blue eyes flashing dangerously. I recognize the glint from the old days.
“Sit down, boy.”
