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“Martha fucking Cohen is what happened.”
“Shit,” my brother cursed, shaking his head. “Someone needs to shut that woman up. Thought you said King was going to take care of it.”
“That’s what he said,” I grumbled, looking at the club president as he laughed at something Priest said. While I had all the faith in my president, I knew he had other important things to worry about besides the town’s busybody.
King was only one man.
He couldn’t do it all.
“I say we take care of the old lady ourselves.”
Banks and I slowly turned to find Cameron leaning against the clubhouse, frowning at the scene before him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the kid was planning something nefarious.
I knew Cameron was a little butt hurt from today’s events. Poor kid only got one boy and another Betty. While he was happy for the girls, his master plan for more manly men wasn’t going according to plan.
“Hey, kid.” Hawk smiled, walking over, then stopping and frowning. “What’s going on?”
“Apparently, the evil mastermind of the club has some diabolical plan brewing in his devious mind.” Banks smirked, glaring at Cameron, who had yet to acknowledge us.
“Sweet.” Hawk grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I love a good, devious plan. Who’s the mark, kid?”
“Martha Cohen,” Cameron clearly stated.
“Oh, hell yeah! Count me in. I hate that bitch.” Hawk chuckled.
“Thought you were with Trip?” I asked.
“I was, then Lacey showed up. Wanted to spend time with her brother. So, what’s the plan, kid?”
“Give me a few days. I’ve got something in mind. Just need to work out every plausibility,” the kid said, mainly to himself as he pushed off the wall before walking away.
Watching him leave, a shiver of fear raced down my spine.
“Why do I get the feeling that kid is going to cause a lot of trouble?” Banks asked.
“Because he is,” I muttered, knowing what Cameron was truly capable of. That kid was no fucking joke. The kid’s brain rivaled Frank’s, and that was saying something. He was also cunning like King, devious like Scribe, and didn’t give two fucks like Gunner.
“I like him.” Hawk smiled. “I say we just patch the kid in.”
“He’s six,” Banks retorted.
“Almost seven.” Hawk smiled happily. “God. Trip is going to love that kid.”
“Because Trip is a kid,” I deadpanned.
“Exactly!”
“You three numbskulls better not be trying to convince Cameron to join your little boy band.”
All three of us froze as we slowly turned to find Pyro and Scribe glaring at us.
“You wound me!” Hawk chirped, deflecting the tension as he stepped forward, forcing Pyro and Scribe to concentrate on him.
Hawk was good at that.
The best in the club. Tense situation, send in Hawk. The brother could defuse anything with a smile, joke, or his witty charm. “Was only talking to the little man. So, what’s up with you two?”
Pyro narrowed his eyes, while Scribe smirked, shaking his head. “You know something, Hawk. This club was a lot quieter without you.”
