“Alright, darling. We’ll explain everything. But you gotta get out of those wet clothes, you’re soaked through and colder than a freezer.”
I try to smile at her, but it fucking hurts, so I give up. Still, her eyes soften a bit, and after a moment of deliberation, she nods. I back off when she stands up, forcing myself to keep my eyes on her face.
“Go on, sweetheart. I’ll be right here,” I assure her.
The young male officer sputters when Sasha brushes past him to go upstairs. “You can’t just leave with our witness!”
“Watch me,” I snarl, crossing my arms at my chest. The motion pulls on my cut, making the worn leather creak.
“It’s fine,” Morris says from where he’d been lurking near the front door. “We can’t keep men on her for the next thirty years until everyone with a grudge against Viking is dead and buried. She either goes with Jenson or moves to the other side of the country.”
“Probably safest,” Penny mutters.
I look at her from the corner of my eye. Penny used to date Diesel, my VP, when they were in high school. When he joined the Sinners, she got a taste of the danger and tucked tail. Now she’s a cop. Fucking ironic.
“I’m calling in the prospects,” I tell Morris, ignoring her. “They’re gonna keep an eye on things while you do your shit.”
The young officer scoffs. “We don’t need rednecks on?—”
“Shut your mouth, Officer Johnson,” Morris snaps. “Have some goddamned respect.”
The silence feels deafening. I don’t remember the last time Chief had to raise his voice.
It’s fucking hard for me, unbearable for Sasha, but I guess it can’t be easy for Morris to see a man who could’ve been his son gunned down in front of his own home. With his teenage—because that’s what she fucking is—daughter crying upstairs, packing up her shit so she doesn’t have to stay in this house.
After a while, she comes back downstairs, a backpack in her hands and wearing dry jeans and a hoodie.
“Ready?” I ask her when she reaches us.
“Yeah,” she whispers, then sniffles. “I’m ready.”
“Good. One more thing, sweetheart. Where’s your old man’s cut?”
Sasha’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Cut?”
I blow air out of my nose. He really fucking didn’t tell her shit, did he? She knows nothing.
“A leather vest like mine,” I say, pointing a thumb at the front of my cut where my Prez patch is sewn in.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Yeah. I think I know where he kept it. Do you need me to get it, mister…”
“Call me Havoc,” I tell her, almost cringing. I’m probably just some old guy to her. “And yeah, darling. I want to keep it safe until the funeral.”
My words set her off again, tears spilling down her cheeks. Shakily, she nods, then walks back upstairs. I force my eyes to the backpack she left by my feet, picking it up and testing the weight.
So light. Ruth and Carol are going to have to make sure she has everything she needs.
I’ve been living in the compound for years, ever since I split up with my ex. I don’t even have a home I can put her in. She’s gonna be surrounded by booze and sweetbutts. But the compound is the only place where she’ll never be far from a brother. Far from me.
“Cover his body up for fuck’s sake,” I tell Morris. “I don’t want her looking at her dad like this.”
“I’m afraid she’s already seen it,” Penny says, a guilty note in her voice. “She ran up… I couldn’t stop her.”
“Shit,” I hiss, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Morris sends Johnson outside to cover Viking and wait for the medical examiner. I can’t stop to think about my best friend lying dead on the grass. Not yet. Not when his daughter needs me to stay strong.
Sasha comes back, her father’s cut carefully folded over one hand, gently petting it with her other.
