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“Lala,” Val warns. “You know we’ve got to keep these things in-house. We don’t want it getting out that you have a loose end.”
“He’s not just a loose end, Val. These men? This club? They’re anything but, and aside from that, Wicked—” I pause, wondering how I should say the next words or even say them at all. Because did Val know? Does anyone know about Wicked being a made man? I find myself closing in around the secret, not wanting anyone to know. “It doesn’t matter,” I say instead. “Just enjoy the ride.” I press the red phone button and pick up speed. Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling down the familiar street and stopping outside the wired gates. It’s not as busy as it was the last time I was here, as if after we left the party emptied out. Honestly, what the fuck were they thinking throwing a party with a pile of bodies in their backyard anyway? The gates part open for me instantly, and I floor it faster through the gate, parking right at the front of the clubhouse. Jade, Silver, and the blonde—the blonde who really needs a name, I think Jade called her Sloane—are all inside.
Sliding out with only one foot out, a loud bike rumbles to a stop beside me, and I watch as Wicked rolls off his bike, tossing his helmet onto the ground.
“The fuck did I say to you, Ruby?”
Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car and slam the door down. “Leave me alone, Wicked.” Shoving him out of the way, I pause when I notice everyone watching us from the entry.
“You both need to behave while we sort through this shit!” Papa juts his finger between the two of us.
Lion, the president, gestures into the clubhouse. “Ruby, you can come into church. What we need to discuss involves you—”
“—the fuck?” Wicked argues, and Lion curves a brow at him before going to Royce.
I ignore them all, nodding to Lion in passing. I don’t have the patience for Wicked tonight. Not when I’ve already maxed out on my energy. Fucking hours ago.
Brushing past the few bikers who are still here, if they don’t move away from me entirely, I catch Jade and Poppy’s eyes from across the room. It’s as though my movements are in slow motion when Poppy leans into Jade and whispers something into her ear. Jade’s eyes widen in shock before she smiles sadly at Sloane.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and follow Lion through a side door adjacent to the bar. There’s a long rectangle table in the middle with their MC emblem carved into the wood expertly. Leather chairs are pushed beneath the table, and at the very head there’s a gavel sitting on a tiny stand. I guess that’s where Lion sits. On the wall behind the head, there’s an old motorbike hanging by anchors. No windows, and honestly, it smells like ass in here more than out there.
“Take the chair there, Ruby.” Lion gestures to the chair on the opposite end of the table. I carefully pull it out and lower myself down.
“Can we hurry this along, please? I have to wake up in the morning and take my son Christmas shopping.” I follow Lion’s movements as he passes the chair I assumed he would sit on, but he instead takes the spot to the right. Everyone else piles in, and I watch as one by one, they take their place around the table. Royce opposite Lion, and Khaos beside Royce, and so on. I don’t care enough about the other members to know their names.
I feel him enter before I see him. The whole atmosphere shifts, and I don’t know if that’s because of the tension between us or because I genuinely hate him, but the second he’s in the room, it’s as though his shadow has me in a chokehold. He’s the dark cloud that hovers over me any time I’m around him. The first thing I notice is that there are no extra seats.
The second thing is that he takes the one at the head of the table. He lowers himself slowly, and just as he’s about to sit, hishead tilts up slightly and the corner of his mouth curls into a hateful smirk.
Within a flash it’s gone, and he leans back on his chair, his eyes directly on me. Slowing my breathing so I don’t look like I’m panicking, I cross my legs from under the table, now cursing Lion for placing me here.
Unable to maintain the electricity that prickles over my skin any time his eyes are on mine, I pull away and look to Papa, who is seated to my right. “What is happening?”
It’s the first time I’ve really looked at Papa. His skin is more withered than the last time I saw him, whether that be from the timeless monster or from stress. But his eyes—they’ve never changed.
He turns to me, taking my hand with his and pausing when his finger hovers over the diamond rock on my finger. He looks down slightly toward Wicked at the end of the table. I don’t know if he knows I caught it, but I did.
I pull my hand away from his touch. “Papa!”
“This doesn’t directly involve the MC, I just needed a secure place to bring you to where I knew neither of us would be in harm’s way.” Searching his eyes, I wait for more. “The envelope Wicked gave you to give to me all those years ago was confirmation that we had an inside leak.” He stops talking as if to find his next words. “Someone who we thought we could trust but has been working undercover with the Irish.”
I wince.
“What was that?” Wicked interrupts from the head of the table, and all heads turn to him.
“What waswhat?”I bite, wishing I had a cigarette or anything to keep my fingers busy enough to not want to fly across this table and claw my way into his eyeballs.
“That twitch you just did when Victor mentioned the Irish?” He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. I’ve been tryingto ignore his obvious tattoo at the side of his throat. The only one I can see, though, and I know it won’t be his only one. A rose, but instead of a flower at the top, it’s a diamond. “What was it?”
Khaos chuckles, sliding a cigarette between his lips. I tilt forward and snatch it from him between my fingers, ignoring his fallen smile. Biting it into my mouth, I lower myself back onto the chair. “I don’t know, Wicked. You seem to know more about me than me…” Flicking the ash off the tip, I smirk as I bring it to my lips. “Why don’t you tell me what it meant?”
His eyes fly between my mouth and the cigarette in my hand before I ignore him and turn back to Papa. “Who?”
“A soldier. Young. Hence the ten body count in the shed.” My brows pull together before I can conceal my thoughts with my poker face. I clear my throat and inhale another dose of nicotine.
“Oops.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘oops’?” Wicked growls from the other side of the room.
