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“And if we’re lucky, they’ll go after the Deviants, start a war, and they’ll take each other out for us,” Reaper muses.
I shake my head. “Had a run-in with Ratchet. I guess he heard I was in the area and tracked me down,” I say. “They gu is organized. His shit’s tight down there and he’s already taken back all the gains Hammerhead made early on. The Deviants are going to control that corridor in no time.”
Molly is idly flipping through her menu, but I know she’s listening in on us. I know I shouldn’t be talking club business in front of her but to be honest, I don’t feel like there’s anything I can’t tell her. I don’t want to keep things from her. I want Molly to know me for who I am, not some artificial construct of who she thinks I am. I want her to see me as I am, warts and all. And if by chance she wants me after that, then I’ll know it’s real. Reaper seems to pick up on that, which is why I think he’s cool talking about it in front of her.
“What are we gonna do when they take control of it?” Reaper asks.
“We’re either going to have to make a deal with Ratchet—which we can’t fuckin’ do—or if there’s anything left of the Howlers, we patch them over and set up a chapter,” I reply. “Even if I hadn’t done what I did, we were comin’ down to those two choices already. Hammerhead is a lost cause, man.”
“I heard him talking once about using the money you guys give him to start his own pipeline,” Molly chimes in softly. “He said he was going to eventually cut the Kings out. You’re the Kings, right?”
We both turn to her, our faces mirrored in expressions of surprise. Her cheeks flush and she gives me an awkward smile.
“Sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t be talking—”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “You never have to worry about speaking your mind whenever you want anymore. You are a free woman, Molly. Free to speak your mind, free to do as you please—you’re free.”
“I guess it’s going to take a little getting used to.”
I nod. “It probably will. And it’s probably going to feel real weird at first,” I tell her. “But in time, I know you’ll be able to assert yourself. You deserve that.”
“Far as I’m concerned, you never have to apologize for speaking your mind,” Reaper adds, surprising me. “You’re entitled to your words and your opinion just as much as any of us are.”
She gives us both a smile and a look of gratitude. I can’t imagine what it must be like for her, to have lived in a world where she wasn’t free to speak without consequence, then find herself in a place where we’re telling her to speak freely. The dissonance has got to be making her brain hurt. But if there’s anyone I know can handle it and adjust to her new circumstances, it’s Molly. To have endured what she did and still hold onto who she is, never giving up hope—it’s truly remarkable. It takes somebody with boundless strength.
Strength I know she’s got in spades.
“So what was he saying?” I ask.
“Well, I heard him talking to Deadbolt and Hogwild about it. More than a few times,” she tells us. “He said he was eventually going to take over your suppliers and deal directly with them. That was his plan.”
I nod and turn to Reaper. “He actually does have some balls.”
“But no brains,” he replies. “That changes things. I’m sure Dad’ll shut up now. Knowing your supposed partner is looking to stab you straight in the back has a way of changing one’s perspective.”
“Yeah, I hope so. I really don’t want him pissed at me.”
Reaper gives me a firm glare. “Let him be mad. But you’re right, and he’ll know that soon enough. I got your back, and that’s what matters.”
“I just don’t want to screw the club, Prez.”
“I know that, and he knows that,” Reaper says. “Everybody knows that. We all know you’d give your life for the club.”
I nod. “I would.”
“I hope it never comes to that,” Molly says softly.
“Same here,” I reply, letting my eyes linger on hers.
Dawn comes back with our drinks and when she sets the shake down in front of Molly, her eyes light up. She really does look like a kid on Christmas morning as she tears into her shake, making an array of nearly pornographic noises as she enjoys it.
“I guess that means she likes it,” I comment.
Dawn shrugs and gives Molly a grin. “That’s the reaction most people have. Don’t you worry about that,” she says. “Now, what can I get you folks to eat?”
We all give her our order. Molly hems and haws for several between fries and onion rings, not sure what to get, until I finally tell her she can just order both, which makes her gasp in surprise as if she hadn’t thought of that. Dawn finally gives Molly a curious look, probably not sure why a twenty-something is acting like she just landed on the planet. But she favors us all with a smile before she leaves the table, probably realizing it is none of her business.
We all make small talk for a little while as Molly gradually becomes more comfortable with the whole being social thing again. I can tell that when she was younger—before she was taken—she was a social butterfly. There’s just something about her that’s instantly likable. Something that makes you just want to be around her. She’s got this big, bright light inside of her. When it shines on you, the feeling is incredible. She’s warm and funny. Molly’s got a quick wit and a quicker tongue—the girl is sarcastic as hell and can skewer you with her words.
