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“I’ll try,” she huffs, which makes me laugh.
Her trying will be difficult for her, but nevertheless, I know she’ll do her best, and watch the girl like a hawk.
“Where’s my other son? I haven’t laid eyes on him since Pope was taken away.”
“He’s around. Last I saw, he was heading into the bar. How’s he getting on as a prospect?”
I snort. “He’s getting away with doing fuck all. Most of the brothers are too wary of the little asshole.”
“Just like his father was at that age.”
Arching my brow, I grunt, “I’m still an asshole, darlin’.”
Planting a kiss on her lips, I head off to the bar, looking for my son. Not finding him, I see Slade on his laptop at the bar, and I join Sparky, Dex, Ricky, JJ, and the twins at their table, where Mason and Myles are quick to get in my face.
“Tell us you have a plan, Cas?” they say unison.
Moving around them, I pull out a chair and exhale, taking the weight off my feet.
“I put in a call to Banksy as soon as Pope left. We’ll wait till we hear from him and see what we’re up against in more detail.”
“We already know what we’re dealing with. He was arrested for murdering a fed,” Myles voices.
Walking over, Slade shoves the laptop in front of me.
“This is the fed. The credentials he had were of the rat’s dad. If I had looked into him, I would’ve found he wasn’t who he said he was.”
“Slade, you weren’t yourself then. No one blames you,” Sparks says, but one look at Slade, I know he’s not buying it.
“Find me Luca,” I bark to no one in particular, and it’s Mason who gets up.
I rub my forehead, wishing I could turn back time. There are so many things that could have been done differently, but there’s no use thinking on such things now.
Standing, I tear my eyes away from the face of the fed on the laptop screen and find my son strutting into the bar toward me like he has zero fucks to give.
Seeing him in his cut, as well as Leo, makes me proud. Both my sons following in my footsteps, wearing the patch I’ve fought for all these years.
Leo was a given when he neared the age of eighteen. He was pretty vocal about his desire to earn the patch. Yet with Luca, I have no idea what goes through that boy’s head.
He keeps his shit locked down tighter than I ever did. Today is different, though. Today I’ll start to crack him open to see what lies within. To see if he’s prospecting because he wants to, or because he feels he’s expected to.
“What’s up?”
Ignoring his flippant attitude, I ask, “Where have you been?”
“Outside.” He shrugs, not giving up any specific details.
Stepping closer to him, I tug on his cut and point to the prospect patch.
“Does this mean anything to you?” I ask, holding his stare.
“Yes.”
“What? Tell me exactly what it means to you.”
I’m aware the brothers are listening closely, but I block them out.
“My life.”
