Page 42 of Savage Saint

“I do.” His answer comes without hesitation.

On my end, a car door slams a few spots down, followed by muffled voices and some laughter. A couple is heading toward Genesis’s building, a few grocery bags in each hand.

“Go ahead and ask.”

“Any territories crossed?” I’ve been waiting for it

The De Leons and the Royal Bastards don’t have clients in common.

Two different business models.

Unless we expand.

“No.”

“Then I don’t have a problem with it.” Simple as that. “Family is family. Club is club. As long as everyone knows which table they sit at, there’s no issue.”

“Goes without saying.”

The breeze pushes harder through the palms above me, carrying a trace of salt from the coast. I breathe it in, letting my shoulder drop a fraction. It’s been an exhausting day.

Moreover, my loyalty has never been divided.

Thiago and Ivan are family in every way that matters, but the Royal Bastards are the colors on my back. One has never interfered with the other, and that applies to both sides.

Never will.

“You see them again any time soon?” Jameson asks, right before someone speaks to him. He gives them that same mm-hmm, and it’s followed by the closing of a door.

“Three months. Family reunion in Miami.”

“Mandatory?”

I almost smile. “According to my godmother.”

“Then you’re fucked.”

“Pretty much. My mother will join her.”

Another sound leaves him, not quite a laugh but close. Not that I pay much attention to it; across from me, Pocket Doc’s curtains move. Just barely, but I catch it right before her lights go out.

I lean back slightly on the bike, one boot planted against the pavement. My eyes are still on the dark window while, on his end, the noise level picks up. Like he’s walking through the clubhouse. It’s music and yelling, and a few people call his name until a door slams shut and the sounds of a hot New Orleans night bleed through the line.

Crickets. Katydids. The croak of a tree frog nearby.

After a beat, he exhales. “I’ve been thinking of expanding our weapons distribution farther south.”

That pulls my attention away from her window. My jaw ticks once. “Been thinking the same. Have a supplier in mind to get it started, if you’re open to a sit-down.”

“Reliable?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“My godbrothers.”

“The De Leons?” I can almost see him pacing. Thinking. “They’d sell to us?”