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Well, that sounded less like she was in trouble and more like she’d been right about their weirdness over the past few days: big secret.
“Got it. Sealed lips. What’s up?”
Reed looked to Pop, so Lyra did, too. Pop said, “The Bulls want to establish a second charter here in Laughlin, and they asked me and Reed if we’re interested in taking a patch. We are.”
Upon hearing this news, Lyra’s first thought was selfish: she wondered if it meant Zach would be in town more often. Often enough?
But after a second of wondering, she set the thought aside for later. Her next thought was ... well, underwhelmed. This was the big secret? Her biker father was going to be in an MC again? Was she supposed to be shocked?
He hadn’t been a member in her lifetime, but he talked about riding with his old MC pretty often—especially after he’d had a few. Between his stories, the stuff about one-percenters that made it to news reports, and TV shows, she had a decent sense, she thought, about what MC life was, for members and for families. Honestly, it wasn’t that much different from the life they had now. Her father was that kind of guy, whether he rode solo or in a club. The family business, though mostly legit, and for her entirely legit, crossed the line often enough that Reed kept two sets of books. The Haddons were already kind of outlaws.
It surprised her more that Reed was interested as well. Yeah, he rode a Harley, and yeah, he loved riding with Pop, also yeah, he had a similar outlook in a lot of ways, but there were things about him that didn’t seem to align well with that culture. Nothing she could bring up now, though, with Pop at the table, so she kept her curiosity to herself.
All she could think to say aloud was, “Okay ...”
Pop gave her a tight look; her reply’s lack of substance disappointed him. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Then she pulled up a little, as facts and details began to fill in the reality. The Bulls came to Laughlin on a run. They handed off something and then headed home. Outlaws handing off something ... probably not cookies and ice cream.
“Wait. Does that mean you’d be doing the runs they do?”
Reed gave her a wryway to finally catch up, crittersmirk. Pop did not. “That’s the point of establishing the charter, Lyra,” he said. “Yeah, we’d be on that.”
“What is it they’re running?”
Pop shook his head. “You don’t need to know that.”
That was a lot bigger, she thought, than getting paid under the table to clean up gangsters’ messes. She didn’t think it was the kind of stuff Pop’s old club had done, either. Their outlaw ways had been more parochial, the way Pop’s stories drew the picture.
Lyra focused on her brother. “Why do you want this?” She knew why her father did; the answer was in every wistful story she’d heard about his days with a patch on his back. But Reed?
“Because I do,” was his unhelpful answer.
“Decision’s been made, Lyra,” Pop said. “We’re telling you because it could change the way we do things.”
“You mean with the business?”
“To a degree, maybe. But I’m talking about the way things run here, in the house, the family.”
“I don’t understand.”
Pop sighed. Reed developed a suddenly acute interest in his own hands. Lyra grew more confused by the minute.
“What’s goin’ on with you and the older Jessup boy?” Pop finally asked.
“Zach?”
“Zach. What’s between you?”
Lyra couldn’t connect these dots. Yeah, Zach was a Bull, but what did ‘what was between them’ have to do with Pop and Reed joining the MC? Also, Pop had never asked such a question before. He was protective and wanted to meet any guy she dated before they went out, but he didn’t get involved in the decision about who she’d date—which was what it sounded like he was doing now.
“Why does that matter?”
“Answer the question, Lyra.”
Confused and beginning to be offended, Lyra only stared.
