“She’s the one.”
“You haven’t hid that, brother.”
“I can’t go on.”
A beat.
Two.
Three.
All loaded.
Then the response…
“Nope.”
“Gonna fill her up with babies, and I’m not giving themthis, Tack.I’m notgivin’ them the Club like it is.They’re not inheriting this block of pure shit from me.”
They’d rode together, side by side, up to Lookout Mountainso they could see this view.
It was Black’s idea.
He’d met Keely.
The fall had been hard and swift.
But they both already knew where their path led as brothers.
Keely just solidified it for Black.
“Getting the Club right needs patience,” Tack told him.“This is gonna be slow, Black.We can’t make any sudden moves.Every stepplanned out, purposeful.”
“You need to cut Naomi loose.”
That made Tack look to his left.
To his brother.
To Graham Black.
“Brother—”
Black looked right, their gazes caught and hung.
“She’s draining you and you know it,” he said.“And we needyour shit sharp.”
He was not wrong.If Tack had ever loved his wife—and thosedays, he asked himself frequently if he ever had, and came up short everytime—he’d fallen out of that as hard and swift as Black had recently fallen in.
“A man in love wants that to be contagious,” Tack noted.
“No, a man finds love, he wants the men he loves to havethat bounty.She looks at me, brother, and the world takes flight in her eyes.All Iwannado is follow, and I couldn’t give thatfirst fuck where it goes, as long as it’s never lost to me.”
“Always a poet,” Tack muttered.
“I’m not fucking around with you, Tack,” Black bit.“Life istoo goddamned short to waste it on leeches like Naomi and you know that betterthan me.”
Tack clenched his teeth.
