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"For someone else to deal with Brady," I mutter. Sheriff Armstrong was at the office today to discuss him. Jules had to agree to a date to get him to leave.
"I'll put someone on it," Cash promises.
"Can we do anything?" Playboy asks, as serious as Cash. We may give each other hell, but this is what the brotherhood is about. We're family. No one ever fights alone, no matter the battle. It doesn't matter if they've met Samara and Scout or not. If they're mine, they're family. Every man in this club knows what that means.
"I'd like to bring Samara to meet everyone," I say, turning slightly to include him and Fifth in this conversation. "But she has…issues with motorcycle clubs." I cut my eyes at Fifth. "One murdered her sister."
"Fuck," Cash growls, his dark brows slashing together.
"Satan's Savages," Fifth supplies, letting me know he's already done some digging for me.
I jerk my chin in a nod, silently giving him permission to tell us what he knows.
"They ran her off the road right outside of the police station in Dallas," he says, speaking quietly. "It looks like she was on her way there but her old man and two other members got to her first. They holed up in a bakery across the street after the accident. Her old man decided to shoot his way out once he realized he wasn't going to walk out a free man. Got himself killed too."
Jesus. I knew Samara wasn't joking when she told me they killed her sister, but Jesus.
"The sister lived long enough to tell them about the baby," Fifth says, looking at me. "I guess she hid the baby in a bathroom somewhere along the way to keep her safe. She asked them to save her baby and to call her sister."
"Jesus," Cash whispers, grim fury burning in his eyes. Hadley was in a car accident not long ago. He knows exactly what it's like to worry about losing a kid. He'll never admit it, but he still worries. "That's fucked."
"Beyond," Playboy agrees, his mouth set in a hard, unforgiving line.
"They found a note with the baby," Fifth says. "Apparently, the sister found out her old man was trafficking women for the MC and helped several of them escape. Once the MC found out, they locked her up to keep her from going to the authorities."
"Did she implicate anyone else from the MC in the trafficking scheme?" I ask.
"Don't know," Fifth says, shaking his head. "Dallas PD was tight-lipped on that. All they'd say was that they were looking into the allegations against the MC."
"No wonder the sister is gun shy about MCs," Cash muses, running a hand down his chin. "Can't say I blame her." He casts a glance around the clubhouse. The two-story white, plantation-style compound looks more like a home than anything. The bar where we're sitting stretches across the back wall, with tables scattered around the room. Two pool tables take up the center of the room. Hacker rigged up an old jukebox to a computer and a sound system. It plays anything we want. The speakers are hidden in alcoves along the top of the wall, allowing music to spill out into the room.
Unlike a lot of MC compounds, this one isn't filled with women. Aside from Gloria and Hadley, not many come through here. Most of our brothers don't fuck around. Those who do tend to keep that shit out of the club. This place is a second home to most of us. We come here to relax and let loose without prying eyes. But there's still no mistaking that it's an MC compound.
Replicas of bikes hang on the walls alongside our emblem. The furniture is dark wood and worn leather. Harsh lighting gives it a club glow. Not even Gloria's immaculate housekeeping softens the masculine vibe to the place. Bringing Samara here isn't likely to ease her into anything.
"Her niece's surgery is Thursday morning?" Cash asks.
"Yeah, first thing."
"We'll be there," he says. "As many of us as can be, anyway. Bender's still on tour."
"Shit. You don't have to do that."
"You plan on putting a patch on her?" he asks, cocking a brow at me.
I jerk my chin in a nod. Maybe it's too soon to be thinking about shit like getting my patch on her or my ring on her finger but that ship sailed about the time she kissed me last night. Hell, I think it sailed about the time I saw her yesterday morning. I'm not going to fight it or deny it.
"Then we're doing it," Cash says, pointing his bottle at me. "She shouldn't have to go through this shit alone anyway. We'll keep her company while you put that Ivy League education to work."
I clasp him on the shoulder, grateful as hell. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. She hasn't met these fuckers yet," he says, smacking me on the back. He chuckles and then heads back across the room toward Hadley.
Fifth gives Playboy a nod, silently telling him to give us a minute. Playboy empties his glass and then rises to his feet without a word. He takes off in the opposite direction from Cash, straightening his suit as he goes.
"You have something else for me?" I ask Fifth.
"Depends," he says, taking the stool Playboy just vacated. He wraps his fingers around his bottle, toying with it. "How much do you want to know about your girl?"
