Page 382 of Devil’s Disciples

“Very. Sometimes to his detriment.”

“What else?” She sipped her coffee. “Tell me what other qualities he has. Something on the inside.”

I shrugged. “That’s it.”

She lowered her cup and scowled. “So, when you were kids, you were friends with him because everyone was beating you up? You needed a courageous strong pal?”

I laughed. “Fuck you.”

Her lips and eyes went thin with frustration. “What other strengths does he have?”

“Nothing. That’s it.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you had to go somewhere, and you knew when you got there that it was going to be a shit storm with a rival club, who would be your first choice? To take with you?”

“Him,” I responded.

“Because you hope he possessed the courage to have your back? Maybe he’d have enough guts?” She cocked her head. “Maybe?”

“Shit. That crazy bastard? I know he’d have my back.”

She nodded lightly. “So, he’s loyal?”

I raised my index finger. “You’re right, he’s loyal.”

“Did his loyalty—or courage—get him into the predicament? The one that created the mess that you’re now forced to clean up?”

“It did.”

“Were his actions out of line? His act of loyalty?”

Cash saved Baker’s Ol’ Lady’s life. Out of line? Not at all. If Baker wouldn’t have had Cash with him, Andy probably would have died.

“He saved someone’s life,” I said.

“Is this someone friend or foe?”

“Friend.”

Her brows raised. “You’re angry that he saved a friend’s life?”

She’d done a good job of making her point. She did a better job of causing me to realize how shallow I’d been. I felt small. Miniscule was more like it. “I’m angry about the mess,” I murmured.

She chuckled. “Look around you, Goose. You don’t have loose ends. You’ve got to be in control of everything. Look at your flowers. Meticulously placed. Meticulously pruned. Everything within your control is in order. Neat. Tidy. In its place. Not everyone is like you. Some people leave their dirty clothes on the floor or have dirty dishes in the sink. They don’t pay their bills on time. Their lawns are overgrown, and their beds aren’t made. That doesn’t make them bad people. It just makes them different than you. Your friend has strengths so valuable that he saved someone’s life. He did what the club asked of him. He used his strength. Now, you do what the club asks of you. Use your strength. Clean up the fucking mess, Goose.”

She was good. Really good. I felt like shit. Not about Cash’s mess, but about how I’d reacted to my responsibility.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I let out a long sigh. “It’s just frustrating.”

“My guess is if he saved a life, he put his own at risk, huh? When he made this mess?”

I nodded. “He sure did.”

“I bet he said the same thing when that happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just frustrating,” she said, mockingly.