The meeting moved quickly. No one wanted to sit longer than they had to on those hard-ass chairs.
“Now that everything else has been handled, it’s time for one last piece of business.”
He heard the mumbling and the feet shuffling. They knew it was coming just not how it would be handled.
“Earlier in the week, we had an issue.” He stared at Tool then scanned the room to find Killer.
“I try not to get into your personal life unless it can’t be avoided.” His words were thin. “Tool, you’re being fined for disrespecting your brother. If it happens again, I’ll center punch you.”
When everyone remained silent, Gypsy gave a sharp nod.
“That’s it. Doc.”
“Church’s adjourned,” Doc called it, bringing the meeting to an end.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the club stood. A few lingered, talking quietly in clusters. Others filtered out fast, lighting cigarettes before they even hit the main room.
Gypsy and Cruise remained by the table. “I’m not sure those two will come around,” Gypsy told his veep.
“Give them time.” Cruise shrugged. It wasn’t that long ago Romeo and Wrench went after one another with blades. Hell, Romeo had shot Wrench. Yes, it had been an accident, but still it had happened. And that was over a female.
Church was done—but the night wasn’t.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Killer had found her a car—asolid deal, all things considered. Fifteen years old, garage kept and holding strong. It had low miles due to being owned by an elderly couple. It was a light-blue Volkswagen Bug that looked like it had barely lived. The radio was basic—no fancy screen or Bluetooth—but it worked. One window didn’t roll down, which she could live with, and the back bumper had a softball-sized dent where the previous owner, an elderly woman, had reversed into her own mailbox.
The roof carried a fine layer of black soot, a leftover signature from the woman’s husband, who’d used the car to toss newspapers before sunrise. It smelled faintly of ink and old leather inside, and when she ran her hand along the hood, the paint was warm under the afternoon sun. It wasn’t sleek. It wasn’t fast. But it was hers—or would be soon enough.
She smiled, already picturing the changes she’d make. A deep clean, a new bumper if she felt ambitious, and maybe some seat covers that didn’t scream “retirement home.” With a little work, it’d shine again.
She took the keys from Killer with a grin that she couldn’t quite hide. They were attached to a plastic daisy keychain, it’s yellow petals dancing in the sunlight.
It was perfect, the dings and dents gave it personality, and it was hers. She slid into the driver’s seat, the worn leather creaking beneath her, and gave the steering wheel a once-over like she was meeting a new friend.
The engine turned over on the first try, settling into a soft, smooth purr. The window that wouldn’t roll down didn’t bother her. She just roll the others open and let the salty coastal air pour in.
Killer knocked twice on the roof and stepped back, giving her a short nod. She caught his reflection in the rearview mirror as she pulled out—arms crossed, shades on, already heading for his bike.
The drive from Fort Bragg to Lampsing hugged the edge of the world. Highway One twisted and dipped like a ribbon laid across the cliffs, the Pacific crashing against jagged rocks far below. Her little Bug glided—she didn’t bounce or rattle, but she felt every curve and twist through the steering wheel. With the windows down and the smell of ocean and eucalyptus in her lungs, she felt... free.
Behind her, Killer’s headlight stayed steady in the mirror. Not crowding her. Not rushing her. Just there. Watching her back the way he always did—even when she pretended, she didn’t need it.
She laughed once, quietly, as a sharp turn made her grip the wheel tighter. She tapped the break gently, slowing down a bit. Her nerves were still unsettled after the wreck. “You better not put me on the cliffside, baby,” she muttered to the car. It smoothed out, as if agreeing to the ride.
By the time the outline of Lampsing came into view—its familiar curves nestled between rolling hills and the stretch of ocean behind her—Brandi felt more at ease behind the wheel. The Bug might’ve been smooth in the turns, but the brakesneeded looking at. The steering was a bit tight but it handled like it belonged to her now.
At the town’s only red light, Killer pulled up alongside her. His bike rumbled low, steady, as he glanced her way and signaled for her to roll the window down.
She rolled it down, the button sticking halfway. “Yeah?”
“Take it to the garage,” he said, voice cutting over the thrum of engines. “I want Wrench to give it a once-over.”
Brandi nodded. “Okay.”
She rolled the window back up and sat still as the light turned green. That tight feeling started to crawl up from her stomach—the same one she’d spent months trying to shake. Taking the Bug to the garage meant there was a good chance she’d see Tool.
She sighed. Lampsing wasn’t exactly sprawling. Running into him was inevitable. They had to learn to live in the same town.
