“One of many reasons by the end.” Hayes’s expression turns grim. “At least he got what was coming to him.”
“And what was that? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“A bullet to the head.” His teeth clench, his jaw working. “My dad was good friends with the VP before me, Helix, Tempe’s dad—”
“I didn’t realize Tempe’s dad was in the club.”
“Yeah, he was part of the older crew that didn’t like how things were changing under Steel’s leadership. They went rogue on their own club, killed their own brothers, trying to overthrow things. Fucking cowards.”
“They turned on the Twisted Kings?”
Hayes nods. “Helix promised my dad all sorts of shit. He said when he took his rightful place, he’d bring my dad with him. He helped plant a bomb at the LA clubhouse, killing the president there. All to get back at Steel for things he felt he was owed because of promises made by Steel’s father.”
My eyes widen. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, we lost too many brothers in that mess.” Hayes frowns. “When Steel made me VP, he agreed to let me deal with my father myself. I confronted him in the front yard.” His gaze moves to the window. “I told him we’d talk—”
“Let’s go talk about it.” I repeat the words Hayes said the night we met. The lie he’d told was to his father.
“Yeah.” He nods. “But we didn’t talk. I put a bullet in his head like he deserved.”
My blood runs cold. “You killed your own father?”
“Without blinking.”
There’s no emotion. No remorse. Hayes doesn’t flinch as he admits what he did.
“Does that scare you, Emery? Knowing that I did that to him. Knowing the lengths I’ll go to if someone attacks my club?”
It should, especially after what my uncle said to me today. I’m only here because I’m meant to be that person myself. I’m supposed to bring them all down. But the longer I stare into Hayes’s eyes, there is no fear to be found. Only peace.
Comfort.
He killed his father, and still, I know he would never hurt me or Charlie.
“No,” I decide. “He deserved what was coming.”
Just like my uncle, I think. But that part, I keep to myself.
A breeze rustles the curtains, drifting through the room and making me shiver.
“When I was twelve, I killed someone too,” I tell Hayes. “Uncle Rick didn’t move me to the casino until I was older. So back then, I lived in the suburbs with his staff most of the year. Sometimes, when he came to visit, he would bring his friends. And this one always watched me.”
The curtains dance in the breeze, and I don’t dare take my eyes off them, or I might lose the confidence to keep talking.
“On one visit, he started getting too close, too comfortable. It was late, and my uncle was too drunk to care about anything. We were nearing the end of dinner, and his associate put his hand on my leg. I knew what would come next—what he was thinking.”
Finally, I look at Hayes, and all color has drained from his cheeks.
“I excused myself to go to the bathroom before the final course was brought out, which is when I saw what the staff was preparing. Chocolate cake with this peanut dusting that made the icing look like it sparkled.” I swallow hard. “They didn’t want to interrupt my uncle and his friends, so they asked me if anyone had any allergies. I knew my uncle’s friend was allergic, but I told them they all love peanuts anyway. He dropped dead before anyone could try and save him, and I haven’t regretted it a day since.”
There’s no judgment in Hayes’s eyes as he listens.
“Does that scare you?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “He deserved worse. Makes me wish he was still here just so I could deliver it.”
It’s wrong. Twisted.
