I nodded my agreement.
It was good to be home. After almost five months on the road, I had been craving my own bed, my club and my brothers around me. That was the problem with being ‘dead’, it meant you couldn't just go about your everyday life like nothing had happened.
Sure, the other chapters had been more than welcoming. They had thrown women and liquor at me on a regular basis. But nothing quite beats the feel of home.
Not at my age anyway.
“It’s good to be back, prospect.” My eyes barely flicked in his direction. He was a good kid, didn’t complain too much, but he just didn’t stand out to me. There was no spark in him. No passion. He saw the patch as some kind of status symbol and not his entire life. I doubted very much he would ever patch in.
“It looks quiet tonight,” I mumbled as the gate was pushed open. I could see the courtyard beyond even in the dark, and it looked almost empty.
Definitely no welcome home party for me.
There was no thumping music, no girls throwing themselves at me.
It might have been a let-down if I hadn’t felt so damn tired.
I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I was bone tired. Not just of being on the road, but of the whole situation I was in.
Five months.
Five...and I was none the wiser as to why The Family wanted me dead.
It didn’t matter how many people we asked, how much we made them bleed. They either didn’t know, or more likely wouldn’t say.
They were more scared of them than me.
And that thought made me more irritated than the fact a mob family was after me. What kind of man was I? What kind of president was I if I didn’t invoke fear?
“Just a few of the brothers in.” The prospect continued, “No one was expecting you until next week.”
Next week? I frowned, wondering for a moment why the hell had they been expecting me in seven days. But I knew the answer. Hansel.
After the last man we had questioned had found his end on the tip of The Judge’s blade, we had meant to let loose a little. At least that had been Hansel’s plan.
But then again that was always his plan. He might have been my oldest friend and closer than even a blood brother, but that man was broken. He had been broken since the day his wife had left him.
And since then, he’d drowned himself in women and booze, among other things.
“Nice to have you back, Fang.” Monster stepped out of the shadowed doorway where he must have been waiting for me to pull up - he had two bottles in his hand.
His eyes tracked mine as they darted to the frosty glass.
“Something stronger?” He cocked his head to the side.
Monster had always been a perceptive son of a bitch. If he wasn’t such a psycho, he could have easily made president one day. As it was, only a man lacking a few marbles would ever put him in a position of power. The only man I had ever met with more demons than Monster was The Judge himself. And The Judge was nothing more than a hired hitman who really, really enjoyed his work.
Monster wasn’t quite there yet.
But then again, who was I to throw stones? My hands weren’t clean of blood either. I just doubted I enjoyed it as much as the young man in front of me did.
“I’m in the mood for Jack tonight.” Without meaning too, I licked at my lips.
Was my little sunflower still out there on the side of the road, drinking her bourbon and being all kinds of unintentionally sexy? Or had someone picked her up?
An asshole I might be, but I didn’t like the idea of her out there alone. The Sons kept the town as safe as we could, but she was just one woman and a tiny one at that.
“Fresh bottle behind the bar.”
