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"You alright, man?" I asked, pressing a hand to his clammy forehead.
"Tell the world to stop spinning."
"Stop spinning, world," I said.
"It's not listening," he groaned. "Uh oh," he said in a panicked voice, pushing up, and crawling the rest of the way to the toilet.
I could take a lot of gross crap when it came to all the men I shared my life with. Puke? Puke was not one of those things. So I went ahead and made my way out, tapping someone else in to keep an eye on Dutch to make sure he didn't aspirate.
I made my way back into the bar, reminding myself to check on Dutch later. Probably bring him some much-needed water and pain medicine.
I looked around for Grandpa and Pops, but didn't see them around. Grandpa was likely asleep in his room, not big on late-night parties, and also seemingly more into trying to find a woman of substance to settle down with than a clubwhore to suck him off. Pops was probably getting lucky. So was Junior, judging by the number of clubwhores that had been hanging around when I'd come in.
I finished my beer, had some pizza when it was delivered, and was just going for my second round when all of a sudden, Creedence cut off.
There was a chorus of objections before everyone turned to find Chewy standing next to the speaker, face grim.
My stomach dropped as I looked at my vice president. I'd known him for a long time. He didn't need to say anything for me to know something was horribly wrong.
My gaze shot around the club, noticing Grandpa, Pops, Junior, Munch, and Dutch still weren't present at the party.
Had Grandpa not been upstairs like I'd thought? Were Pops, Junior, and Munch not getting busy like I'd assumed? Had Dutch stumbled out, shit-faced, and found himself in some sort of trouble?
My stomach twisted as my heart tripped into overdrive as I stood, moving forward across the room toward Chewy.
"I'm afraid we have to cut the celebration short tonight," Chewy said. "I have a very serious issue to bring to your attention," he added as his gaze cut to me.
Something in his eyes sent a chill through my body, made me stop mid-stride.
Very little scared me in life.
But something about the look he gave me fucking terrified me.
It was a strange, foreign sensation that had a cold sweat breaking out over every inch of skin, making a chill course through me.
"What's going on?" I asked, my voice sounding small, choked.
"That's the question we have for you, I'm afraid," Chewy said, nodding to someone behind me.
A second later, two of my men moved around my sides to stand by Chewy, each unfolding poster boards that they'd folded in thirds like some fucking school science project.
And I knew.
I knew right that moment what was happening.
Before I even saw what was on those boards.
I felt like my stomach dropped out of my body as I watched men flanking Chewy glare at me as the others started to get up, going to get closer looks at the pictures on those boards.
Pictures of me.
There were several of me on the roof of the laundromat, looking at the Henchmen compound.
I could excuse that when I had a chance to talk. Explain that I was watching the club to see if someone else was watching the club, seeing if I could catch a glimpse of the wolf that was at both our gates whenever we weren't looking out.
But then there were a few of me checking out Fallon's new home.
That, well, that would not be easy to explain. Maybe in the past, I could have. Before I'd buried a body with the man, back when I could say that I was keeping an eye on the enemy.
Then, somehow, there was one of me at the diner that night I'd happened in after a movie. It was a picture from outside of me in the giant window, my head rested on my hand, staring after Fallon in a way that could only be called longingly. Even the densest of my men would see that.
Chewy had just come into town then.
How had he even found me?
Had he somehow gotten some of my men to watch me while he was gone?
That had to have been the case.
My men had been spying on me, working behind my back with my VP.
The betrayal stung more than it probably should have. It was a piercing, hot sensation. Like being stabbed. Like someone sank in a knife in my gut and yanked upward until all my innards fell out at my feet.
Time felt like it slowed down at that moment. I watched my men move in slow motion, looking at the boards. Their bodies stiffened as they came to conclusions based on a one-sided argument, then turning back to face me.
