I suppose I’m not, Slade was constantly on his phone or his laptop. A warmth spreads across my chest and I smile.
It’s fleeting but it was there.
“You haven’t been to the club in a while.”
“Don’t go reading into it, I’m needed more here.”
Hesitantly, I ask, “What if I always need you more?”
“Mom,” he warns and I sigh.
“Sebastian will be waking up soon. I’m going to make a start on breakfast.”
Maybe if I keep busy, I can get through this and see a glimmer of a life to live. Though it doesn’t help when I can hear Slade’s last words spoken in this kitchen.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back but I’ll call and keep you updated.”
I’ve heard this so many times, I’ve lost count.
“Babe, you hear me?”
I empty the sink of suds and murmur, “Yeah, I hear you.”
I learned a long time ago that the club is a solid part of our lives. I don’t necessarily come second but I certainly have had to share.
I dry my hands and he crosses the kitchen, pulls me against him and kisses me. After all these years, his kisses still have the ability to make me go weak at the knees.
“You could come with me? See Lana,” he offers.
“I’d rather take a long hot bath and have an early night.”
“If all goes to plan, I’ll be back before you wake.”
I smile. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”
With one last kiss, he grabs his keys from the table and looks back over his shoulder.
“I love you, darlin’.”
“I love you, too.”
If only I knew it would be the last time I saw him.
11
Jj
Harper has been brushing her hair for the last nineteen minutes. I don’t think she’s aware she is still brushing it. I know my old lady, so I know she’s zoned out and is trapped in her thoughts. It's been a couple of days since she held up the bar and she has refused to speak to me about it. I look over my grazed knuckles and stretch the broken skin as I flex my hand into a fist. Every punch was worth it. The fucker should have kept his mouth shut. I'm aware old ladies are treated differently depending on the brother, but my old lady can do what she likes, even if it’s holding up the club at gun point when there’s a rat amongst us. I might not like it or try to talk her out of it if I gain prior knowledge, but I wouldn’t stop her if something’s causing her worry and stress. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t think about it, but she’s suffering. She's lost her mother and now her uncle. To say I'm keeping a close eye on her is an understatement.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you were thinking holding up the bar?”
She blinks, once, then rapidly, and finally looks at me. “I was thinking someone in this club got my uncle killed and Leo wasn’t getting anywhere finding out who.”
“So you took it upon yourself to do something about it?”
Frowning, she asks, “Are you angry with me?”
I laugh. “I’m more than angry. I’d never tell you what to do, but tension is on a knife’s edge in the club right now, what do you think would’ve happened if someone had shot you, or you shot them?”
