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Carmelo blew out a breath. “Well fuck me. Now if I could find a wife who was up for that kind of thing, things might be different.”
Colt shrugged.
Carmelo stared at his eggs again morosely. “Can you believe Lyle was the FBI mole? The agent you were so worried about?”
Colt barked out a hollow laugh. “Honestly, no. If you’d have told me I’d be sitting here today about to welcome the drunkard FBI rat back to the MC, oh and I’d made him my VP, I’d have told you to fuck off-”
“You regret it?”
“No,” Colt said immediately. “Lyle took a bullet for me. He may moan and dick about sometimes but his heart is in the right place. And if he’s sober…”
“But when he isn’t?”
Colt shrugged. “We take the rough with the smooth here at the Black Coyotes.”
Carmelo watched the man downing his orange juice now.
“Doesn’t really fucking matter who the mole is anyway, we all work for the FBI, we are all bitching ourselves out to the fucking scum of the earth, and when the day comes to blow our cover and expose them… fuck, that will be a good day because I fucking hate the bigoted, nasty, scumbags-”
“Hey, less of that talk about your business associates,” said an authoritative voice from behind. Carmelo tried to turn his head but it hurt too much.
Blue came and sat at the table now.
Baby Chase babbled excitedly.
“Yes, it’s Grandpa!” April trilled, mopping Chase’s face all over.
“Blue.” Colt nodded a greeting to him, but Carmelo could feel the icy blast as the atmosphere turned decidedly frosty.
“Colt,” Blue said back, sitting down at the table with a black coffee. Head of the local FBI Gangs department, and April’s father, yeah Carmelo did not envy Colt in that one. A tough father in law to have on any day of the week, let alone being the Prez of the former MC Blue used to run himself.
“Sergeant.” Blue nodded to Carmelo, who did his level best to give an assertive nod back.
Blue blinked at him. “You look like shit warmed up, Sergeant.”
Carmelo winced. “Thanks.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“I just, er… overindulged a little last night…”
“Jesus, get yourself home and washed and cleaned up, what the fuck would the force think of you if they saw you now, huh?”
Carmelo bit his lip.
Colt stepped in brusquely. “Oh yeah, like you never woke up with a hangover after over-doing it the night before? I’ve seen you a wreck, Blue, don’t forget-”
Blue shrugged. “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
Carmelo hung his head, chastised. “I mean, I can ride out the hangover, I can do the time-”
Colt waved his hand, interrupting. “Carmelo doesn’t need to do the time, we’re the Black Coyotes, we get our lawyers to get you out of doing time.” Colt winked at Carmelo.
“Huh,” Blue grunted.
“Stop giving him a hard time. He’s fine, Daddy,” April added.
Carmelo felt bolstered and sat a bit straighter in his chair. In his pink sparkly Avril Lavigne T-shirt.
