Hence the bullshit Judge Fitzgerald was able to pull. He’s one of those founding family members.
I follow them inside while music and chaos swallows me whole. Woman dancing on tables. Men screaming over poker games. Smoke thick enough to choke on.
Home sweet fucking home.
Ryker leads me towards the back, down the hallway past the bedrooms and into the back office. They offered me a room here when I got out, even if I’ve been in and out of here with my mom since I was a kid. This place is just loud, and yes, while I love the chaos…s ometimes I need quiet, been locked in a cage for far too long.
“You’re fighting Saturday night,” Ryder says casually, and I chuckle.
“You do know I’m the one who schedules the fights, not partakes in them,” I say, and Ryker grins darkly.
“Well, how badly do you want information on the Rodriguez cartel?” he asks.
There it is. Always a price.
“Alright, I’m in,” I say. The words leave my mouth easily because fighting has never scared me. Not after Whitestone.After prison, fists almost feel honest.
Ryker studies me from across the office while smoke curls from the joint hanging from his fingers. Ryder leans against the wall beside the door, arms crossed over his chest, watching me carefully.
Nobody in this room relaxes. Men like us are wired for survival.
“You sure about that?” Ryder asks. “You know how the Dungeon is, Ghost. You walk into that cage, people are expecting blood.”
I lean back in the chair and smile. “Good thing I’m not afraid to bleed,” I state, and Ryker grins.
“Prison really fucked you up, huh?” he asks, and I laugh once.Low and humorless.
“You should see the other guys,” I say, and silence settles for a second before I say what’s been itching beneath my skin since the race. “I saw Jade tonight.”
And that gets both of their attention immediately. Ryker’s expression hardens slightly while Ryder straightens from the wall. “With Spade Rodriguez,” I continue. “Didn’t know Devils Incarnate and the cartel were suddenly playing nice.”
The twins exchange one of those silent conversations only brothers can have. Interesting.
So there is something there.
“She can handle herself,” Ryder says finally.
“That wasn't my question,” I say with a raised brow.
“Good thing we don’t owe you answers then.” Ryker smirks, putting out his joint.
Fair enough.
Still, something about seeing Jade on the back of Spade’s bike bothers me. Not because I care who she rides with, but because connections like that usually mean power shifts. Alliances. Wars brewing beneath the surface. And if I’m getting dragged into cartel business, I want to know where the landmines are buried. “She looked real comfortable with him,” I say carefully. “Too comfortable.”
“You paying attention to Jade now?” Ryker asks with narrowed eyes.
“No,” I scoff. “I was paying attention to the fact that a Rodriguez had a Rivers on his bike,” I say as Ryder cracks open a beer, chugging it down.
“Maybe she wanted a ride,” he says, and I laugh.
“Bullshit.”
“There’s the prison paranoia.” Ryker chuckles.
“No,” I correct coldly. “That’s survival instinct,” I fire back, and the room quiets again.
They know I’m right.
