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The big three.Terry Creed, Martin Volkov, and Charlene's new husband, Marco.
"We don't show favoritism," Kane continues. "But having her here”—he thrusts a hand toward Rae—“means we're against Terry.”
“How?” I fold my arms, widening my stance. “Nobody knows what she saw. Why would they think we’re holding her as a weapon?” The lie falls easily from my lips.
Iknow that the word slowly spreads. That the toxic filth will find its way into the veins of the desperate and needy, and before long, we’ll fight a war with not only the men at the top, determined to use Rae to their strategic advantage over the oligopoly that runs these parts but the scrappy, deranged fuckers at ground level with delusions of grandeur. Dreams of being something bigger and worse than what we already got.
I need him to tell me just how far that oil slick has gotten already.
“Until last week, she was known to be Connor’s woman,” Kane explains. “Then you fucking dumb cunts start spreadin’ rumors that she’s yours,” he bitches at me, nose curled, “and the word on the street is you stole her as some sort of petty game. It doesn’t take a genius to work out shit like that only happens if you want to start a war, and they want to know why. What’s so goddamn special about her golden cunt that you fuckers would disturb the peace for it.”
“Watch yourself,” I grind through a stiff jaw, finger in the fucker’s face.
His nose twitches, and he continues. “Not knowin’ why you took her makes the tweakers nervous, Uncle West. You know what happens when the fuckers get nervous?" he asks, turning toward Maddie. "They get twitchy. Trigger happy. People get hurt, or people die. Sometimes both."
"We're not taking sides," Maddie protests, but even I can pick the doubt in her tone. "I'm just helping a friend." She throws a pitiful glance Rae's way.
The furrow to our guest's brow tells me she sees the same as I have—Maddie's lost her bravado. Her conviction's gone. She's a tough girl. Always has been, running circles around the menof the club, impressing them with her love for the life. But she's also her father's daughter; she shares the same heart Tyke does, and sometimes it gets the better of her like it does me.
I respect that.
But around people with killer instincts like her brother, it's a weakness. A soft spot to exploit.
"Who's talking?" I ask Kane, inserting myself between him and Maddie. “Volkov’s crew squawkin’?"
Fucker shakes his head. “Atticus Crow.”
I frown at the name. We haven't run supply through his quarter for months. Rumor has it he'd employed his own team. A bunch of young guys on sport bikes swapping goods on the fly so the cops have a hard time keeping up with who rides dirty and who's legit. "What's he saying?" If his minions are spreading the news, then that means the low-level wannabe has aspirations of becoming the fourth leg at an already unsteady table.
"It's just talk at this stage, but it's dangerous all the same." Kane narrows his eyes, arms folded high on his chest. "The lower levels get wind of his bullshit, and they start to believe it, grow restless. A fuckin' dealer out of line is one thing, but when his rats start scrabblin’ for more than the scraps they're given, things get messy."
He isn't wrong. I've seen it before—the lower ranks taking matters into their own hands, ignoring the authority of their boss. It's akin to a prison riot, and we're usually the guards that beat everyone back into submission.
It's messy and dangerous.
I've already broken bones and taken a bullet playing peacekeeper for my country. I don't need to do it for fucking nothing on the streets. "You talked to your old man about this?"
"When was I supposed to do that?" Kane shakes his head. "When he left yesterday morning or again this afternoon?" His eyes harden. "Or when he was dribbling over that slut?" He turnshis head to punch the point with Rae, yet his brow furrows, gaze darting all over the room. "Where the fuck'd she go?"
I turn as well, searching the faces around us, yet neither Rae nor Maddie are to be found. "Good one, fucker." I clip Kane around the ear. "You fuckin' make that girl run, and your old man will have your hide."
"Why? What does she fuckin' matter to us if she goes? Who cares if Terry takes her out?"
"I do." I take a step forward, crowding the little shit against the bar. "You're treadin’ a thin line, boy. You best not piss me off any more than you already have."
"I'm fuckin' shaking, Uncle." He pushes his chest against mine.
"You'd be a fuckin' fool if you weren't."
Blood or not, we respect our President, and we respect the by-laws. None of us are above that.He may have a point about the unrest on the streets, but that's not enough to save him should he continue to flaunt rule eleven:All members, patched and unpatched, are to treat any female on club grounds with due respect, including, but not limited to, ol' ladies, girlfriends, daughters, sisters, mothers, and guests.
Rae may only be a guest, but as long as her feet are on club grounds, she's protected from the likes of Kane.
Including manipulative fuckers like Connor.
"Your father's outside," I bark, taking a step back. "Get your fuckin' ass out there and tell him what you told me."
The sullen fucker storms away, boots thunderous against the polished concrete floor. I drag a hand over my face and draw a deep breath before even entertaining the thought of finding Harvey and doing allthatall over again,
