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With a roll of his eyes, Zach zipped up his leather Handlers’ jacket. “Seems to me like you forgot the fucking meaning of brotherhood while you were locked up.” As he spoke, he threw his thick leg over his bike.
“Fuck you,” Rusty said, starting for Zach. This wouldn’t be like Mav or even Jig. Zach wouldn’t suffer an underserved punch. He’d fight back, and both men would end up damaged. Which would make the ride home suck.
Copper slammed a hand against Rusty’s chest, stopping his forward progression. “Shut the fuck up, both of you.” Standing between the two snorting bulls with one hand on Rusty’s chest and the other extended toward Zach, Copper turned toward his brother. “Rust, we ain’t doing anyone any favors. This is price of doing business. I need something from him. Never expected him to hand over Lefty for free. Just be glad he ain’t asking us to sell his fucking meth.”
Rusty threw his hands up. “Jesus, bro, you think you got the better option? You know how much fucking money we could make selling his shit? Wasted fucking opportunity if you ask me.”
Copper narrowed his eyes and worked not to crack a molar. “Club makes plenty of fucking money. We walked away from that shit for a reason, Rusty. Way before you went away. You remember what it was like back then. A bloody fucking mess. Club’s not going down that road again. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Prez,” Rusty said, the title dripping with sarcasm. He stalked toward his bike, mounted, then rode off in a thick cloud of dust before Copper even made a move toward his bike.
“Fuck,” Copper bit out.
“Pretty much sums it up,” Zach said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“LOOK, MOMMY, I’M doing it. I’m doing it!” Beth screamed with extra loud glee. Typically, Shell would have her take it down a notch, but her excitement was so genuine and uninhibited, she figured a few shrill yells wouldn’t hurt.
Her little legs pumped in and out as she worked the swing back and forth, her smile so wide it took up her entire small face. A pang hit Shell’s heart. Silly, really, but each time Beth learned a new skill, she needed her mother a little less, and that was a hard pill for Shell to swallow. She’d been Beth’s everything since day one, and it wouldn’t be long before she wasn’t needed at all.
“Jesus,” she muttered as she watched her daughter swing higher and higher, still shrieking with happiness. Here Beth was just swinging solo for the first time, and Shell had her moving out of the house in her mind. “Dramatic much?” she asked the wind.
“What Mommy?”
“Just said you’re doing a great job, baby!” she called to her playground-loving kiddo. The air had finally warmed, so Shell decided a day of much-needed outdoor play was just what the doctor ordered. Copper had out of town business to take care of, but he’d checked in about a half hour ago. He was on his way and planned to meet them when he rolled into town.
Beth swung so high, the chain slackened for a second. “Whoa!” she yelled. “Mommy, I think I’m too good at bumping my legs! I almost flipped over the top!”
“It’s pumping, Bethy,” Shell said with a laugh. There was nothing like the pure and innocent joy of an excited child to make the world look rosy again. It was a reminder Shell needed as she’d been noticing a black cloud hovering overhead.
“I said that, Mommy. I said bumping. Weee,” she called as she swung up high once again.
Shell clapped for her daughter. All of a sudden, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight on end. Something was off. She immediately closed the distance to Beth, standing next to her daughter as she swung. Scanning the area, Shell looked for something that could be responsible for her unease.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Beth relaxed her legs, and the swing lost much of its height.
Shell forced a smile even as she remained alert and on the lookout for danger. “Nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to be closer to you.” There was no point in alarming Beth unless absolutely necessary, though Shell was ready to rip her daughter from the swing and run if it came to that.
As she glanced around at the vacant park, heart racing and nerves skittering up her spine, she frowned. Had she fabricated this entire concern? Not usually one to overreact or search for monsters lurking in the closet, Shell had always trusted her instincts. Wasn’t like them to serve her wrong.
Just as she was about to shake off the paranoia, she caught sight of a man walking across the opposite side of the park. Shell tensed, gazed fixed on the man as he met up with another, smaller guy. The shorter one wore baggie jeans, hanging to his knees. A black hoodie shielded his face. They shook hands. Too far to hear, Shell squinted her eyes and took an automatic step forward for a better look.
