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"I've heard the stories about Pagan," I admitted. And him. Camden had mentioned once that West was known for taking a ton of violent jobs in the criminal underworld before he settled down in Navesink Bank.
"Yeah, and when you meet him, you won't be able to not like him. He's a decent guy. He just likes fighting and pain sometimes. So it doesn't mean that you have to think differently about Cam because he will use violence to solve your problem. He wants to keep you safe. That is the way to do it. Now drink up while I find something microwaveable. Do you like Hot Pockets?" he asked, already turning away to dig in the freezer.
Mulling everything he had said over, I lifted my mug, taking a sip, tasting a pumpkin explosion overtaking my tastebuds.
"How did you know I would like pumpkin?"
"It's fall," he said by way of answer.
So then we ate Hot Pockets that were a little cool in the center. I drank pumpkin coffee. We talked about the places I had been, the places he had been. When we overlapped in really close proximity, discussed the things we liked and the things we hated about those places. Then we got onto the topic of Navesink Bank, about the seeming permanence we found here.
"But do you genuinely like it?" I pressed after he told me he liked the club, the family, the fact that he was closer to his own family, yet not close enough for them to demand he drop in all the time.
"You know what, Pretty Girl, I think I do," he told me with a nod.
"Yeah, me too," I agreed.
We had only just fallen into a comfortable silence when there was a lot of noise going on. Shouts from outside, shouts back from within. The front door opening.
"Let's go be nosy," he suggested with a little wink.
We were just walking out of the kitchen as Reign and Cam came out of the hallway.
I noted that Cam seemed no worse for wear.
The door opened a second later, bringing in Renny.
"What's going on?" Reign asked.
"Some guy is bringing in your son. And one of the Mallick kids," he explained.
"Bringing them in how?" Reign asked, brows furrowed.
But no one answered because a second later, the door opened again, ushering in a man who dwarfed all the others in the room - and they were impressively sized to begin with - each of his hands on the back of the necks of two boys. One, a miniature version of Reign. The other, a mini version of that guy I had seen on the street that day when Thomas had found me.
And the boys' faces were bloodied and bruised, the clothing torn, dirt all over them.
"The fuck is going on here?" Reign asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest, not the kind of man who shrank away at the sight of his son a little busted up. Whether that was because he was a rough and tough biker or because boys got into scuffles and he was used to it, I wasn't sure.
My gaze shifted from the boys to the man holding them in place, hands not moving from their napes even in the presence of one of their fathers.
He was a solid guy, wide of shoulder, strong of chest, muscled all the way down. His face was broad in the jaw, something that gave him deep cheekbone hollows, everything covered in a forgetful stubble. There was a dimple to one side of his mouth even though he wasn't smiling. His nose was strong, but not oversized, his eyes an almost black shade of brown, his hair a medium brown.
He was the kind of man you saw in fitness magazines or something. Not one you saw in real life, just a few feet away from you.
"Figure this one is yours," he said, pushing the mini-Reign forward. "Wouldn't tell me where I could find his old man, but he looked a little familiar to me. Seen you around town a few times. Took a chance. Any idea where this one belongs?" he asked, jiggling the other teen around a bit, something that was impressive since he was a big kid. Much like his dad.
"That's Jason. Shane Mallick's kid."
To that, the man gave him a nod.
"Found these two beating the fucking shit out of each other in that abandoned liquor store parking lot. Didn't seem like they were gonna stop until someone ended up with a head crushed with a rock. Figured I would take a page out of my old man's book and deliver them home, so you don't get some bullshit story about what went down. In this weird fucking incestuous town, I figured beefs with the crotch fruit can't be good for whatever treaties you all got with one another."
