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“You seem to care an awful lot about your brother’s fiancée,” my dad commented easily, staring at Titus.
“I just spent the last hour with her little sister cryin’ on my shoulder because she thought Esther had died in a car accident this morning,” Titus blurted incredulously.
“So that’s the story they’re usin’?” Micky muttered, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“How do you know her sister?” Rumi asked, leaning back on the couch with his feet crossed. He looked amused.
“We’re friends,” Titus replied defensively.
“You’refriends?”My dad wasnotamused.
“She’s younger than me, but we had a class together,” Titus mumbled, scrubbing his hands over his face. “They think Esther is dead. Noel’s going to lose it when she finds out Esther’s okay.”
I grit my teeth and inhaled slowly through my nose.
“You can’t tell her.” I reached out and squeezed Titus’ shoulder. “Not a word.”
“What?” His eyes widened in shock as he looked at each of us. “Why the hell not? That’s hersister!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dad replied. “You keep your mouth shut.”
“No fuckin’ way!”
Dad’s hand shot out like a python and gripped Titus’s chin, jerking his face up. “This is nonnegotiable, Titus. You fuckin’ say anythin’ to her sister, you’ll be drinkin’ your cheeseburgers through a straw, got me?”
Titus made a noise in his throat, angrily staring at my dad, but after a moment gave a short nod. When my dad let go of his face, he took a step backward and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Do I get to know what the hell is goin’ on?” he muttered angrily.
I met my dad’s gaze and nodded. While we didn’t usually clue Titus in on club shit, this time we needed to make a bit of an exception. He was clearly connected to what was going on, even if it was a loose connection, and if we were going to ask him to keep his mouth shut, he needed a reason. By the look on his face, Titus was contemplating if telling Noel that her sister was alive might be worth the broken jaw my dad had threatened.
“Esther’s pop is in the Sons of Calgary,” Dad said, watching Titus’s face for any sign of recognition.
“What, the church they go to?” Titus asked, relaxing fractionally.
“Connected to it,” I confirmed. “But the members—”
“The men,” Rumi clarified.
“It’s not just a church, yeah?” I said, nodding at Rumi. “They’re a fuckin’ militia group.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Titus muttered.
“Long story short,” I said, ignoring him. “They stole some shit from the club. Followed some leads and found it out in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”
“That doesn’t explain,” Titus said, jerking his head toward the kitchen where Esther was helping the women.
“Esther was there. At the cabin.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word.
“They rigged the shit so when she called for help, the entire cabin would explode,” my dad spat.
Titus choked and jerked his head back in horror.
“So,” I continued. “We’re gonna let them think that their little plan worked. For now.”
Titus was quiet for a long moment, letting the revelations sink in. Then he opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally spoke. “That doesn’t explain why you’re marrying her.”
