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In fact, that was the likeliest scenario. She was not easy to live with, as evidenced by her utter failure to find somebody who wanted to. He was no prince, certainly. Could they really make it work? If they failed, their child would be the collateral damage.
Or what if something terrible happened because Eight was a Brazen Bull who walked around locked and loaded and did violent, dangerous shit for aliving?
“Mom?”
She smiled at her son. “I think you should ask Eight how he feels about being called Dad. But I bet he’ll like it. Hey—you want to get some ice cream on the way home? We should celebrate your great grades.”
“Can I have a large concrete?”
“Absolutely.”
As they left the rec room, Ajax turned and called, “Bye, Tamsyn! See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Jax!” the girl he’d been playing air hockey with answered.
Someday, her son was just going to be Jax. It hurt, more than a little. But it wasn’t her call.
Names were tricky things.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eight knocked the gavel on the table. “Okay, let’s get to work. We’re meeting for one reason: to decide what to do about JJ and Duncan. JJ’s off bedrest in a few days, and he’s gonna want to come into the clubhouse. Before he does, we need to decide if he keeps his patch. Duncan’s two years is coming up in two weeks, and we need to patch him, kick him, or extend him.”
“Anybody ever made any noise about beefing with us over the way we handled that mess?” Simon asked.
That mess had been handled weeks ago, but sometimes shit that happened in the dark didn’t stay handled. Still, it had been quiet since they’d dispatched the assholes JJ had gotten mixed up with.
With a quick glance at Maverick, to make sure they were on the same page, Eight shook his head. “No. I think there’s nobody left to have a problem with it. That, or they know they’re not strong enough to fight us.”
Caleb chuckled bitterly. “I don’t know whether to be madder at them for being so stupid to fuck around with two-bit assholes like that, or just relieved those assholes weren’t connected.”
“They were stupid, yeah,” Gunner agreed. “But it’d be a fuck ton worse if they’d gotten in the way of the Hounds’ business—or even worse, a crew we don’t have a good vibe with. I’d say we should be relieved.” He turned to Zach. “What do you think, Z?”
In setting the scales to rights, Zach had killed for the first time. Two men. Now he wore a new flash, embroidered with the words RIGHTEOUS FIST. That had been Beck’s idea, a way to honor men who’d done the work that sat hardest on their souls.
Eight wore that flash, too, but none of his kills sat hard. The people he killed deserved it. Even the kill that had put him on ice for years. That bastard had hurt Cecily, who was the first club daughter—Dane, her father, had been the first Bulls VP—and was now Caleb’s old lady. Killing that guy had been incredibly stupid—not because he’d killed him, but because he’d done it without clearance from the table. In fact, he’d done it in the heat of the moment. Recklessly. Impulsively.
He regretted the impulsiveness, but not the killing itself. But he understood that for most people, killing another person sat hard. It also carried with it the risk of hard time, as Eight knew intimately. Becker had understood as well, so he’d brought the idea for the new flash to the table a few years after he’d taken the gavel.
Zach sat quietly for a few seconds before he answered Gun’s question. When he spoke, he looked to Eight. “I think it’s good that there won’t be more blowback from what Jake did. I think he’s already paid heavy for it. He’s down a kidney, and his lungs won’t ever be like they were, and he’s only twenty years old. I know we’re here to decide on his patch, I get that he did wrong and, as bad as it is, it all could have been a lot worse”—now he looked around the table, meeting each brother’s eyes—“I hope we do the right thing now. Jake’s a good patch. He did a dumb thing, but everybody does.”
Zach was far too young to remember when Eight himself had done a very stupid thing and put the club at risk, and landed him in prison, but Eight was definitely thinking about that now.
“Okay. We’ve had some weeks to think this out and talk it out. Anybody have anything else to say?” He looked to Maverick, who usually did, and who hadn’t been shy in expressing his feelings about JJ and Duncan in light of their mistake.
Maverick gave a short shake of his head. Nobody else spoke up.
“Then it’s a vote,” Eight said. “It’s gotta be unanimous, but we’re going all around the table regardless. All those in favor of stripping JJ’s patch for the sin of freelancing, say ‘Aye’.” Like Becker had, Eight always voted last. Usually, he turned to his VP to make the first vote, but this time he wanted Maverick to see how the rest of the table voted first.
Was that manipulative? Maybe. But for a good cause.
“Going to my left. Dex?”
Dex looked surprised, but only for a second. “No.” Right there, the vote was over, practically speaking. JJ would keep his patch. But Eight let the vote ride.
Next was Caleb. “No.”
All around the table, the vote was the same. Eight watched Maverick, saw him thinking as he heard No after No after No. When the vote came to him, it was unanimous. Nobody wanted to excommunicate Jacob ‘JJ’ Jessup, Rad’s son and Zach’s brother.
