He scoffs and deposits more groceries on the counter. We really need to talk about what is going on. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if he is avoiding something by spending all his time here, with Oscar.
“You don’t have to open your mouth, Noah. You have subtitles written all over your face.”
Can’t even argue with that. With everything except the club, I make my feelings known. Jesse continues putting away groceries as I grab a T-shirt from the clean laundry pile and pull it on. It makes me remember how Taylor kept staring at me. She might have thought she was being sneaky, but she kept looking at my chest, and lower. Bet she hates herself for that.
Shrugging on my cut, I glance at Oscar to make sure he is okay. I fucking hate leaving him again but there is no other way I can deal with this situation.
“We can talk about this later. Or never,” Jesse rounds the counter and looks at Oscar. “Have you given him lunch?”
“Yeah, he probably didn’t need the snack, but you know he’s a gingerbread junkie,” I smile for the first time since he came home.
“The tow company is going to the clinic for my car so I might need a ride there to get the car back.”
“I’ll send someone for it,” I say, heading over to say goodbye to my son, kissing the top of his head. He gives me a toothy grin and shoves a soggy gingerbread into his mouth.
We say nothing more, but Jesse gives me a knowing look. He won’t be expecting an apology. I should give one anyway, I was out of line but I’m still stewing on the implications of that nurse seeing Oscar. And me if I’m honest. Why it’s bothering me so much is a string I don’t want to tug on.
So why on the ride over to Locust Point, do I keep thinking about her, wondering what it would be like to peel that nurse’s uniform off of her?
All thoughts of the sexy nurse leave my head when I get to the clubhouse. Rebel is waiting and we go straight upstairs to the room where we hold Church. There aren’t many rooms in the building, most of it is open plan.
The only thing up here is the large room that holds all of my officers when we need to meet. There are two bedrooms that are used mostly for the brothers who stay here so the clubhouse isn’t empty. Or when someone wants to go fuck a club girl.
No one has been up here the past few nights. After Phoenix, my half brother, caught his mom in here with one of the members and a bag of fucking cocaine, I’d barred anyone from using them for anything other than guard duty. It won’t last long but I was pissed as hell.
We might move drugs and other illegal contraband, but I don’t want it touching this place. It’s ironic that I help people shift drugs all over the state, but won’t let my men use it here.
If I had my way, no one would do it on their own time either, but I’m no one’s keeper. Unless they fuck up because of it. Like Grim did, even worse, taking Phoenix’s mom upstairs to fuckwhiledoing it.
This has been my life from the moment I signed on as a prospect, following in my dad’s footsteps. If all I can do is keep it out of the local community, I’m going to make damn sure no one in my club is using it.
That whole incident fucked up my relationship with Phoenix. He's asked me more than once to keep his mom away but I've dropped the ball because of all the other shit I've been dealing with. Phoenix is yet to answer any calls I’ve made to him for days.
Rebel closes the door behind us and goes to the table, dropping his lanky frame into the chair that the VP has always occupied. He’s a good man, methodical thinking, cool in a crisis and someone I know I can rely on, no matter what. We were friends before we became officers together. That doesn’t mean we slack in our roles.
He taps his finger against the table as I take my seat. This has been a long time coming. It’s going to be impossible to blow him off again.
“I’ve kept everyone in line, but questions are being asked,” he says.
“What have you told them?”
He shrugs. “Can’t answer what I don’t know.”
He’s right. I’ve kept this close to my chest for years. Rebel knows I am protective of Phoenix and will do anything to make sure the shit here doesn’t touch my half-brother. What I’ve kept from Phoenix over the years doesn’t even touch the surface of what he thinks is going on.
My mother namely. She’s a fucking psycho when it comes to Phoenix. We share a father, different moms. Mine was his Old Lady, Kate was a club whore. It goes on, the majority of the guys here make use of the women that hang around.
Dad was notorious for it. Mom let it slide, until he knocked one of them up. The stupid bastard accidentally shot himself eleven years ago when he was drunk and cleaning a gun. He left a hell of a fucking mess behind when he did. And I’ve been cleaning up mom’s messes ever since.
The worst time was when she put Kate in the hospital after beating the shit out of her and stabbing her in the leg. Phoenix blames me for his mom still coming around the club. After the whole drug fiasco, I can’t blame him for avoiding me.
Kate is upstate at a rehab place now. I’ve offered to pay, but he’s shut me out.
“Last night was a fuck up and rightfully so, people are asking why Dutton is nothing but broken teeth and old shoes.”
My lip curls in distaste at that visual. Pigs will eat anything. Except teeth apparently.
Might as well be blunt. “He murdered Ghost’s sister fifteen years ago.”
