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“What?”
“Your brother is dead,” I say. “Daddy killed him.” He shakes his head a few times, his throat bobbing.
“No,” he says. “He’d never kill Oli.”
“Apparently he did,” Bash says dryly, uncaring of Ginger’s spiral. “How do we stop him?” Ginger’s jaw flexes.
“I don’t know,” he breathes, then screams as I begin peeling his skin again. “He doesn’t meet with people he hasn’t known for years. He won’t take on new grunts unless they can be vetted by the others.” Bash begins pacing behind me. I feel his mind working overtime as he tries to scramble together a plan. “You can’t take him down.”
“Every empire falls,” I promise.
“If you let me go,” Ginger says again, his voice breathy and broken, “I can get information for you. I can help—”
“Why would we trust you?” Bash snarls. “Why would we ever want to work with you?”
I pause. Ginger’s eyes flick between Bash’s, then he looks at Reid, then down at me.
“I wasn’t really going to take her,” he admits quietly. “I just needed you to take this shit seriously.” I glance at Bash as his eyes narrow. “I—” Ginger’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “I’ve been trying to save my sister for years and I thought taking this job was an opportunity to have you help me do that.” Bash’s eyes stay narrowed as he takes a step forward.
“You infiltrated our club so we could help you save your sister?” he growls. Ginger nods weakly, his face pale. “Tell us everything.”
So, Ginger did. He told us everything. He told us his story, his father’s story. My stomach twisted with each damning word, each kernel of new information.
We are in way over our fucking heads.
Kennedy
“How are you feeling?” Spencer asks as I step behind the bar. I glance at him as he stalks toward me.
“Better,” I mutter. “I’m really sorry, Spence.” He waves me off casually, but his face stays its usual intensity.
“It’s fine.” He rests his forearms on the bar, leaning over it as his eyes narrow. “How do you keep up with everyone?” I tilt my head to the side.
“What do you mean?”
“There are a lot of guys here every night, and you keep up with their orders. I couldn’t remember who ordered what. It was a mess.” I smile slightly, dipping my head as I shrug.
“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” I say. “You just…figure it out.”
“Do any of the guys fuck with you?” he suddenly asks, and I rear my head back.
“Fuck with me?” I repeat, blinking at him.
“Yeah, you know. Do they—” He waves his hand, trying to say it without saying it. Do they touch me, or more?
“Yeah,” I mutter as I look down. “Not all the guys, just some. It’s usually outsiders.” I glance at him, finding his face thunderous. “Milo and I had to kick out some drunk assholes the other night, but they came back and one of them tried to touch me, but Milo got him. We kicked them out again.”
“What?” he says deathly low. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” I shrug as I run my fingers through my hair.
“You’ve never asked,” I say, my eyes on the bar. He’s silent, his eyes boring into the top of my head. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the door swings open.
We turn our attention to it, and I groan. Ezra swaggers in, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face as he slides his sunglasses on his head. His walk is so fucking over the top it should look ridiculous, but it doesn’t.
Spencer straightens to his full height and turns around, leaning against the bar as he folds his arms over his chest. Ezra jerks his chin at him as he approaches.
“What’s up, Spence?” he says, resting one arm on the bar and leaning heavily on it. He doesn’t look at me, not even a glance.
“What are you doing here?” Spencer sighs. He doesn’t sound irritated, just tired.
