Page 33 of Property of Player

“And it had to be unanimous.”

“One lousy vote would have stopped me.”

“You really think Dad wouldn’t have demanded why he voted against you? I’m not so sure he would have had the balls to go against his president.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“That had to be hard. Everyone looked at you like you were the biggest asshole. And you just stood there and took it, knowing the whole time it was because of Dozer.”

“I broke her heart.”

“Dozer didn’t give a shit about her feelings, apparently.”

“He said he was protecting her. Maybe that’s what he did. If we’d been together, maybe it would have been her that day when the bomb went off at the clubhouse.”

“Well, now you get another shot, huh?”

“I want that, but God, the guilt will destroy me if hooking up with her puts her in danger. If she ends up hurt or killed because of me, I won’t be able to live through it, Beck.”

“Come on. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Depraved Sinners gave up. Dad saw to that.”

“Trouble is never truly gone, brother.”

“Okay, enough doomsday talk for one day. Let’s go walk over to that coffee shop I saw half a block over. I’ll let you buy me a donut.”

“When do we have to be at the house?” I ask.

“You mean when do we turn into two-men-and-a-truck? Noon. And I’m not looking forward to it.”

“None of us are.” We move inside, and I grab my keys off the bar between the kitchen and living area. “Come on. Let’s go get that coffee.”

We head down the stairs to the parking garage under the building and out the side. It’s a short walk, and I leave my cut hanging on the back of a barstool in the condo.

Beck is just wearing a t-shirt as well.

Though we may not have our colors on, our arms are covered in ink, a lot of it club symbols. Crowns and skulls and anarchy signs.

The tiny café has a small outdoor courtyard to one side and a storefront and entrance on the other.

A bell jingles when I pull the door open.

An older woman is walking away from the counter with her items, leaving only one customer in front of us. It’s an attractive woman wearing jogging clothes that hug all her curves. She’s got earbuds in and doesn’t turn to look at us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beck’s gaze trail over her shapely ass, and I elbow him before he does something stupid like try to speak to her.

She moves on, and we place our order.

Beck stares at the board filled with too many choices. “Jesus Christ, when did ordering a damn cup of joe get so difficult?”

“He’ll have a large Americano.”

“And you?”

“Give me two small cappuccinos.”

I pay and she moves off to make them.