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“I won’t ever leave.”
“Pinkie swear?” Crash put up his little finger.
She hooked it with hers. “Pinky swear.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Cole watched as Crash stood, studying the pool table, a disinterested look on his face.
“Damn, brother. Enough already. Quit moping around like somebody took your puppy,” Red Dog complained.
“Shut the fuck up and shoot,” Crash snapped.
Red Dog grinned as he leaned down to take the shot.
“Really, man. You want this girl so bad, go fucking get her,” Wolf advised, from where he stood next to Cole, leaning back against the clubhouse bar and watching their game.
Crash’s cell phone was laying on the bar next to his bottle of beer. It vibrated. Cole glanced down at the screen. “Cole, your phone’s going off.” He frowned down at it. “Looks like a Birmingham area code.”
Crash looked up from taking his shot. “No name?”
“Nope. Maybe it’s your sister or grandmother.”
“Could be the Birmingham Chapter calling on a burner. Toss it here,” Crash raised his hand.
Cole threw it to him.
Crash answered it. “Yeah.”
Cole watched as Crash frowned.
“Hey, Ace. Yeah, I remember you. How are you?” Crash’s eyes were following Red Dog’s shot. And then suddenly his body came erect, and his tone sharpened. “Say again?”
Cole focused in on the call, watching Crash’s reaction and wondering who was on the other end.
“This is a joke, I’ll rip your fucking head off!”
Cole frowned, wondering what the hell that was all about.
“How?” Suddenly Crash’s breathing was sawing in and out of his chest, and his face had gone pale. “I don’t understand. When?”
Cole took a step toward him.
“Both of them?” Crash snapped, pain flashing across his face.
Cole watched stunned as Crash’s eyes glazed over, and he lowered the phone, and it clattered to the floor. Then in a move that shocked all the brothers around him, Crash lifted his pool cue and slammed it against the pool table, snapping it in two. He turned, swinging the broken piece at the nearest high-top table, smashing every bottle and glass on it.
“What the fuck, man!” Green yelled, jumping out of the way.
“Crash!” Cole shouted trying to approach him, but staying out of the way of the swinging jagged broken cue. And then as suddenly as the outburst had started, it stopped as Crash walked backward, hitting the wall next to the table and sliding down it to collapse on the floor. He let out a blood-curdling yell.
Cole stared at his brother, in shock. His eyes moved to the cell phone lying on the floor where Crash had dropped it. Cole picked it up. Seeing from the screen that the call was still live, he barked into it, “Who the fuck is this?” He nodded toward Wolf and Red Dog to take care of Crash, and he stalked outside so he could better hear the man on the other end.
Five minutes later, he walked shell-shocked back into the clubhouse and over to Crash, who was still sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. Cole’s eyes lifted to Red Dog, who stood next to Crash, not sure what to do. At the questioning look in Red Dog’s eyes, Cole started to speak, but the blasting music made it hard for them to hear.
Dog twisted and yelled, “Cut the fucking music!”
A moment later, there was silence, except for the crunching of glass under the boots of several of the brothers as they shifted uncomfortably from boot to boot.
