“Anyone want to weigh in?” Sabre opened it up to the rest of the room.
“What does Flo say?” Chef asked. He was sitting next to me, but I wasn’t the only one who turned to look at him. Chef was the strong, silent type, and we almost forgot he had a voice.
“She’s worried about the future. More so how this is going to affect the club than anything else.” Sabre sighed. “It’ll be hard on her, no matter what happens.” He turned to Grizz. “How’s Meredith holding up?”
I didn’t expect Grizz to laugh, but he threw his head back and let loose. The sound eerily settled around the room, but none of us thought this was funny.
“She flat-out asked if he was going to die.” His head tilted towards the ceiling. “She doesn’t understand why her blood father sacrifices them for his own gain, when we’d kill any motherfucker who thought about hurting Pumpkin.”
“I’d stand next to you if that ever happened,” Dead whispered. Grizz’s head tilted until they stared at each other. They weren’t friends, but they shared a mutual respect. Buster had done that.
The room fell silent. I didn’t know what to say, and as I watched the rest of the brothers, it was obvious they didn’t want to overstep. This was their president’s family we were discussing. This was also my family, but even as the oldest, I wasn’t the head of the household. It was alright. I’d step up if the girls needed me, but my primary concern was my wife.
My wife.Those words felt right, even if I hadn’t voiced them.
“I haven’t decided, but I’m thinking about letting Gerry go. No tracking. He’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants,” Sabre threw out there.
“You know he’s going to run back to the cartel.” Grizz was only saying what we were all thinking.
“Hey, Cyph?” How chimed in. “Can you do, like, some probability shit on what Gerry’s next move is?” He was completely serious, and I watched Zook cover his face with his hand.
“Yeah, 100% he’s heading back to the cartel.” Cyph’s eyes widened. “Do you honestly believe he’s not?”
“No, but I was hoping he’d see the error of his ways.” How placed his elbow on the table, cradling his cheek in his hand.
“Gerry’s going to hook up with the cartel, but what happens when they show up at our door?” Count rubbed one of his spikes.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that, which is why I brought all of you in. Cyph upgraded the fence again. There was a group effort to reinforce the posts out there. We can set up snipers on the roof, but what more? What’s actually going to get them to stop?” Sabre ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creased as he tried to find a solution.
“I’m not calling the cartel to ask what’s up. They don’t respond, and I’m done playing their little email games.” Cyph took a long pull from his energy drink. “If you order me to, I’ll reach out to Krait. See if I can speak snake long enough to get any info.”
“No. I want you to stay far away from him, but I think he was right. When we dropped off the warehouse drugs, he said we were getting a visitor—assuming Alex isn’t already floating around somewhere. Don’t give Krait a reason to come,” Sabre said to Cyph.
“He doesn’t want us. He wants Aunt E. What if we put it out there she’ll meet with him?” Wreck focused on me, waiting for my reaction.
I wanted to lash out at him, but it wouldn’t do any good. If I called him out on his bullshit. He’d just clam up. “I’m not offering her that option. She’ll take it, and who knows what happens from there. Now, if he reaches out to her, I won’t stop it, but I will make damn sure she’s protected.” I leaned forward, holding his gaze. “You’d do the same for Pretty.”
Wreck opened his mouth, took one look at Pretty and quickly shut it. He did it one more time, but if he was going to say something, no one knew what it was. There was a knock on the door, interrupting the fish routine.
Sabre waved at Twig to answer, since his seat was the closest. He opened the door, and a prospect was standing on the other side. There were a few whispers back and forth before Twig turned to face the table, leaving the door open.
“Hey, VP? Some drugged-out kid is at the gate asking for the bun.”
“No shit? He’s here?” Grizz asked Twig.
“Prospect says so. C’s at the gate, so he left the kid on the other side and called D to tell us.” D was still standing there, but he didn’t say a word. Prospects only got invited to church after they received their patch, and he knew exactly where his place was. Besides, no one wanted to clean the chrome on the brothers’ bikes with a toothbrush as punishment. I’d done it one time and never made that mistake again.
“Has to be the kid from the holding cell,” Grizz said to Sabre before standing. He headed towards the door with Sabre at his heels. The rest of us followed them out to the front gate. Sure enough, there was a kid lying in the dirt, curled up into a ball.
Grizz stopped in the yard. “You backing my play on this?” he asked Sabre.
“Yeah, we’ll let him stay in a cell until Scrub has time to look at him. It’ll be easier to clean until we know what we’re dealing with.” Sabre’s head turned to the side. “Cyph, I want a full background check.”
“Got it, Prez.” Feet took off running towards the front door of the clubhouse.
Grizz walked through the shed, and when Sabre didn’t follow him, I did. Grizz had created this clusterfuck, but it didn’t sit right with me that no one had offered to help. He hadn’t been the only one in the holding cell who was currently standing out in the yard, and the kid didn’t look so good.
Grizz squatted in front of him. “Hey,” he mumbled. “You made it.”
