“He offered to take the boy to raise him, but she refused unless he would make her the vice president of the club.”
I tug the rest of the leaves from my pocket and hold them up for her to take. She earned them. “Thank you.”
When I emerge from the verdant square, Egan lands in front of me, cutting off my path. His eyes rake up and down my body, as if Emmy Lou attacked me instead of providing a few tidbits of info. “One down.” I indulge his examination. “Let’s go see if Brass is still around.”
I’m greeted by several members when we walk into the club. I’m used to being stared at, but I’m still trying to get used to people wanting my attention. Egan glares at anyone who dares to get close to me, and I tap two fingers on his arm as if I’m just touching him in passing, but it’s a tiny reminder about the conversation we had this morning about him being the sergeant for the club and not just my personal bodyguard. I have a feeling we will need to revisit the topic several times until he starts actually listening.
Modeus and Cyrus head straight for the bar, but every time I look in their direction, at least one of them has their eyes on me.
I scan the stools, not seeing the founder or Frances. I don’t even see Salvador, which is unusual, since he seems to spend most of his time here.
Sabastian, the road captain, gives me a head nod when I pass him, but nothing more. It’s the first time in days I can easily say I recognize every face in the clubhouse. The demon and his crew from the other day are gone, or at least not here, nor are any other strangers. Maybe the word is finally out that I’m accepting the position as president and the trials are never going to happen.
Damn, that’s a heavy thought. I only have less than a week left before all the official duties and the mundane shit of the club will need to be dealt with. I also have some decisions to make about my inner circle.
All thoughts of prospects and trivial shit are quickly eclipsed by the need to find Brass. He’s known my father longer than anyone else here. If he doesn’t know anything about Adder, I might need to reach out to the other clubs to see if anyone has any intel on the halfling or his mother.
“Have you seen Brass?” I ask a vampire delivering drinks to the tables. Her eyes go round as if she’s shocked I’m speaking to her.
“Not this evening,” comes her quick reply. Damnit, that means I’m going to need to take a ride out to his place in the swamp.
“He passed out cold this morning. Reaper hauled him back to his place to sleep it off,” Mickey offers from a table a few feet away. I head toward the mechanic and grab the last empty chair at her table. She lifts her glass to me in a salute before taking a sip.
“Is Frances with them?” I ask.
“Nah, he scampered out of here before sunrise. I think he was headed to the shore.” That makes sense, he might have been getting pretty dry.
I let my eyes linger on Mickey. She knew Harlow pretty well, so I wonder if she knows anything about Adder or his mother. She tilts her head to the side, sensing there’s something more in my gaze, but I decide to hold off on asking her. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but now’s not the right time to talk.
“Are you going to be around later? We’re going to need some new rides soon.” It’s the truth, Egan and Cyrus both need bikes, but that’s not the real reason I want to speak to her later.
“I can be, or you can come to the shop and see what I have.” She keeps her hand on her bottle, preparing to take another drink.
“I have some shit to do now, but I’ll stop by your place soon.” I rise from the seat, and my constant shadow joins me as I walk toward Cyrus and Modeus at the bar.
“I’m going to go check on Brass. Reaper took him home this morning.”
Cyrus starts to rise, but I place my hand on his shoulder. “He’s just two doors down. I’ll be right back.”
The back of the gargoyle’s jaw tightens, but he nods his head once as he repositions himself in the chair. It’s obvious he would rather join me, but I already have one tail, so I don’t need another.
I run my fingers from his shoulder up the side of his neck, feeling his beard tickle my fingers and palm before I cup his cheek. “Be right back,” I tell him before kissing his lips softly. I can feel his eyes on me when I walk out the door.
“Brass is probably going to be a grumpy asshole,” I warn Egan before we even make it to the next building. “Don’t rip his head off.”
I glance at my fallen from the corner of my eye. His raised brow and quirked lips don’t make any promises.
Egan pushes my hand down when I raise my fist to knock on the door, and then he does it himself. “Really?” I roll my eyes, giving it several seconds before snapping my hand forward and knocking again, even harder than Egan did. He slowly turns his head to look down at me.
“What?” I don’t do well with feigned innocence, but I give it a go.
Without looking away from me, he reaches out, snaps the door handle off, and shoves it open, one-upping me. I try really hard to suppress the grin fighting to cover my lips, but I fail. “He’s going to be pissed.”
The scent of blood wafts out the door, killing my smile and all the levity I was feeling. “Salvador? Brass?” I call into the house, already shifting to my stone form.
My blades are in my hands as I slink into the house. Egan is at my side on high alert. His wings are still tucked into his back, along with the hellfire he possesses.
I follow the scent of blood to the kitchen, where I find Salvador spread-eagle on the tile. My eyes are processing the scene before me, but my brain is having a hard time accepting it for what it is.
