Page 28 of Property of Quake

“Don’t worry about finding volunteers,” he says, his expression serious. “The club will handle that.”

“The club?”

“Yeah. I know you might not believe me, but we do have a lot of connections in the community.” I open my mouth to argue, but he holds up a hand to stop me. “I promise that there will be no inappropriate or illegal activity. We’re one percenters, not monsters. Shit, Zombie will have his daughter there, so trust me when I say, that carnival will be the safest place on the planet.”

Zombie? One percenters?

Rather than voice the questions plaguing me, I say, “Thank you, Quake.”

He lingers in the doorway a moment longer than necessary before nodding. “No problem, Sister.”

Once he’s gone, I slump into the chair and exhale.

Dear God, what am I getting myself into?

9

QUAKE

“What’s the likelihood that retaliation will increase… productivity?”

The question, posed by Lyric to Whiz, has all of us on the edge of our seats. We’ve been in church for no more than twenty minutes, and our road captain has spent the better part of that time filling us in on what went down at the most recent funeral held at Death’s Door.

“Hard to say,” Whiz replies. “But Zoey’s ordering supplies like she’s preparing for casualties of war so…” He shrugs.

“Smart girl,” Zombie comments before leveling his gaze on Lyric. “Pres, if she’s getting ready for an uptick in funerals, we should probably be ready, too.”

“Agreed,” I add. “Even if these rivals don’t go after one another, they're bound to do something that requires the Kings to step in.”

The next ten minutes are spent discussing which brothers and prospects can be spared at a moment's notice if Death’s Door requires more help. As soon as we close out that topic, Lyric turns to me.

“Quake, why don’t you give us an update on Sacred Haven?”

Zombie claps his hands and rubs them together like an excited child. “Oooh, yes, please tell us how things are going with the future Mrs. Quake,” he taunts, grinning like a fucking fool.

“I hate you,” I snap.

“You love me,” he counters.

I roll my eyes, groaning. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Guys, there’s a party starting soon,” Trick says from his position a few seats down from mine. “Can we save the bickering for later?”

“Right, so…” I glance around the room. “Whitney and I came up with a community carnival for a fundraiser. We’re thin⁠—”

“Whitney?” Pilot asks, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Sorry, Sister Emiliani,” I explain.

“Oh yeah,” Zombie says with a smirk. “You’re fucked.”

A round of laughter follows our VP’s statement, and I ignore it. I wish I could say it’s because he’s wrong, but he’s entirely too close to the truth. Whitney has a way of making a man forget she’s a nun, forget that there are very big reasons she’s off limits.

It’s impressive.

“This is for the kids, so can we focus on that?” I bite out.

“What’s needed to make this happen?” Scrubs asks.