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Her name is like a bomb in the room.
I wait for him to answer, and when he doesn’t, I look at Archer. Surely he’s not fine with her being here alone. But he doesn't say anything.
“So, what? She’s just supposed to protect herself?”
“We’ve had to deal with drive-bys for years,” Spencer says. “She’s used to it.”
“And if they break in?”
“They won’t.”
“Kiwi,” Bash says under his breath. “Drop it.”
I glare at him. I know it’s not the right thing to do, show any sign of friction with him in front of another club, but fuck. What does he expect?
“Belfast will keep digging to find their hideouts,” Spencer says.
“I’ll work with him,” I say, and again, everyone looks at me. I don’t want to leave Kennedy alone, and if I’m working closely with Belfast, I’ll have a real excuse to be here all the time.
Even if she doesn’t want me around, I’m not going anywhere.
“He works alone,” Spence says, and I shrug.
“We go back,” I say. It’s semi-truthful. We don’t go way way back. But we go back far enough for us to be…friends? Does Belfast even have friends? He’s even more unhinged than I am, and a loner. But we get along enough for him to be fine with me tagging along.
“Right.” Spence and Bash exchange a look, then Bash nods. “Fine.” Spencer glares at me. “Don’t fuck up my club. I mean it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I grin. Bash sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose. I push to my feet, rubbing my hands along my thighs as I stand. “Are we done?”
Spencer looks ready to say no, but he pauses and looks around the room. “They’re still in the kill room?” he asks Archer. Archer nods, and gives me a sidelong look. “We’ll question them, then kill them.” He gives another nod, but keeps his mouth shut.
I’ve never understood people’s reluctance to kill bad people. It’s not hard to understand.
Someone does something bad, that means they need to die. Simple as that. It’s why I have no problem with the blood on my hands. Even if I am a monster, I can justify it.
“Then we’re done,” Spencer says. “Need to talk to you and Taz, though.” That’s my cue to leave, and I’m more than happy to.
Archer stalks from the office behind me, but I ignore him. We don’t say a word to each other as we make it to the main floor. I search for Kennedy, not finding her anywhere. Panic bolts through my chest, but when I see her coming from the back with a crate of bottles, I let out a relieved breath.
“She can take care of herself,” Archer mutters. “She won’t like you hanging around.” I glance at him. He really believes that, doesn’t he?
“I don’t care if she can take care of herself,” I say. “She doesn’t have to when I’m here.” His throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes tracking her. I wait for him to say something, wait for him to give me a reason to deck him, but he doesn’t.
He looks lost in thought while he walks across the room and out of the bar.
When I find Kennedy again, she’s staring at the door like she’s waiting for him to come back in. A few seconds pass, then she straightens her shoulders. I see her mask slip back on as she begins making her rounds and pouring drinks for the guys.
I don’t know if she’s noticed me or not, but I stalk to the back corner of the bar and sink into the chair. If her club can’t promise to protect her, then I will.
I’ll sit here every night for the rest of my life to protect her.
Kennedy
Walking into the apartment, I quietly shut the door and lean heavily against it. It's nearly four in the morning and I'm fucking exhausted. Spencer was reluctant to leave after the drive-by, and even more reluctant to leave me in charge after that bullshit with Kiwi—Ezra, fuck.
I got busy after Archer and Ezra left; too busy to worry about if he killed Archer or not. But now that I'm off work and my mind has ample time to worry, the only thing I'm wondering is if Archer is still alive.
It's too late to call him. If he's alive, he's probably shacked up with some girl, anyway.
