Tool let it drop into his pocket. His smile faded. He wasn't looking at the car anymore. Something else caught him. Someone else. Not brunette. A Redhead.Brandi.It was like he summoned her with his thoughts.
He either needed to pull her in tight or shove her out for good.
No more riding the middle. Because the way things were slipping, it wasn’t just his personal life on the line. It was bleeding into the club.
And if he didn’t get a handle on it, the brothers would start asking questions. Questions he didn’t have good answers for.
Gypsy said they were good with her. Maybe they were. But what happened if he claimed her—made it clear she was his?Would the brothers still have his back? Or would it tear apart everything he’d bled for?
And truth was, the real problem wasn’t them. It was him.
He wasn’t built for easy love. He’d tried before and wrecked it—wreckedher. He was possessive, controlling, too much in all the wrong ways. He liked to think he’d changed.
But when it came to Brandi... he didn’t know if he could keep that darkness in check. And if he lost control with her... he wouldn’t survive it.
“Hey, brother. You gonna stand there staring at Brandi all day or actually get back to work?” Wrench asked, stepping up beside Tool as he lit a cigarillo.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Tool muttered, eyes still tracking her.
Wrench smirked. “No, you’re not.” He exhaled smoke through a laugh. “But I bet if you took her home, you would be.”
Tool shot him a look that could peel paint. That was all the answer Wrench needed. The brother was stuck—twisted up in it and too damn scared to do anything about it.
Wrench understood. He’d been there once, bleeding out and high as a kite when he first laid eyes on Frisco. He had an excuse. Tool didn’t. Tool was just scared.
Tool didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back. He just turned and headed for the garage, boots hitting the pavement with sharp, heavy steps.
Wrench stayed where he was, watching him go with a low chuckle. He took one last drag off his cigarillo, crushed it dead against the sole of his boot, and flicked the butt into the street.
Then he followed, smoke still clinging to his cut as he disappeared inside.
Chapter One
Quinn piledher hair on top of her head, securing the mass in a messy bun. A quick glance at the clock sent a jolt of urgency through her. If they weren’t out of the house in the next twenty minutes, they’d be late—again.
“Gabriel, Maxim, let’s get going, boys!” she called, grabbing their lunches off the counter.
As expected, Gypsy was already out the door. He’d told her last night—late, after shutting himself away in his office for hours—that he had meetings first thing in the morning.Again.
She was tired of it. The early meetings. The late nights. The way their conversations barely scraped the surface of anything but the club and his work. She missed him. The kids missed him. Lately, it felt like he wasn’t interested in her at all. Not as a wife. Not as a partner.
She forced the thought away, pushing a tired smile onto her face as she handed the boys their lunches. “Where’s Tatiana?”
“Still in her room.” Maxim hesitated. “Quinn—I mean, Mom. Sorry.” His wide eyes searched hers, like he expected her to be mad.
She softened, ruffling his hair. “It’s fine, Maxim. You can call me whatever makes you happy.”
But it wasn’t fine. Not really. After all these years, after everything she did—cooking, cleaning, school pickups, late-night fevers, parent-teacher conferences—she was stillQuinnmore often thanMom.No matter how much she loved them, they still hesitated. Still held back.
Shoving down the sting, she walked down the hall and pushed open Tatiana’s door. The room was dim, the curtains still drawn, and her daughter—because that’s what she was,hers, whether they realized it or not. Tatty sat on the edge of her bed, barely dressed for school. Her head hung low, dark curls tumbling around her face like a curtain.
“Tatty?” Quinn’s voice gentled as she crossed the room. “Are you okay?”
Tatiana peeked up, her little face pale and drawn. “I don’t feel good, Mama.”
Quinn had barely knelt in front of her when Tatty’s stomach pitched—and before she could react, warm vomit splattered down her blouse.
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing back her own reaction as the smell hit her. Behind her, Maxim gagged from the doorway, and Gabriel groaned. “I’m gonna be late for school!”
