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The sound of the gavel hitting the table put my dark thoughts on pause.
“All in favor of splitting up and coming at this thing from two angles raise your hands.”
One by one everyone’s hand went in the air and with a curt nod Ryder brought down the gavel.
“Marco, you’ll work with Diego to figure out what the DEA’s up to, and Hunter will deal with his brother’s threat. Tweak, Beast, Colt, and Dagger you’ll help Marco as needed. Pops, Mad Dog, Gunner, and Cannon you’re with Hunter. Val and I will handle the strip club this week if the rest of you can cover deliveries in between trying to get us clear of all the bullshit.”
The gavel hit the table again and Marco stood up, sliding past Cannon on his way to the door. Cannon took his customary cigarette from behind his ear as he stood up and started flicking it between two of his fingers.
“Hunter, I’ve been thinking.”
That would be a first for Cannon. He lived in the moment, never considering what blowback the club may face for his rash actions. Honestly, it was quite a feat for him to have survived this long. If there was a god, he spent an awful lot of his time protecting Cannon.
When he stood there staring off into space, not saying anything, I prompted him. “Go on.”
“We should have someone from the club watching your brother and I should be me the one to do it. My only job around here is deliveries, and the rest of the guys can handle them without me. The best way for me to help the club is by babysitting the little cunt and warning you guys if trouble is headed your way.”
His plan was actually sound. There was an element of danger involved in sneaking in and out of the house, but surely a kid from the streets was used to remaining out of sight. Marek could keep the guards off his back, so he’d be relatively safe as long as he didn’t confront my brother.
He held up his hands. “Shit. Sorry. I meant you no disrespect with the cunt comment.”
Cannon must have taken my pause the wrong way.
“None taken,” I said, setting him straight. “I’ve called him worse to his face. When I was younger, it used to fascinate me to watch him turn red.”
Cannon’s shoulders shook with laughter, but I couldn’t fathom why that was funny. Emulating people’s emotions in order to fit in was very different from understanding them. My father had never tried, and he made it work, but I figured the ability to blend in might prove useful. Turned out that skill came in handy when I left home for the last time, covered in blood.
“That’s what I like about you. You’re crazy, but at least you’re honest about it. I can’t stand fake people, you know. Like, if you’re a douche, at least have the decency to own that shit.”
My lip tilted up at the thought of Cannon telling Piotr he was a douche, or something similar, in front of one of his little debutants. He’d most likely turn beet red and sputter right before venom spewed from his mouth.
Shit. The two of them in the same room could only end one way, and I feared Cannon was no match for my brother.
“This is very important, Cannon. Stay away from my brother. He’s the biggest fake of them all. He plays the part of the mouse until it’s time to be the snake in the grass.”
Women were bent over the pool tables while the guys played, growing ever more suggestive with how much of their ass was on display as the night wore on. More men lounged with half-dressed women sprawled across their laps on the couches where I played Call of Duty earlier, and Colt leaned against the far wall talking to a girl as his hand creeped underneath the edge of her skirt. When I heard the unmistakable sound of a hand hitting flesh from somewhere in the room, warmth suffused my cheeks, and I decided it was time for me to turn my barstool around.
Shay, another sweet butt, was behind the bar, her dark hair flowing around her arms as she mixed drinks. The lights above the bar caught on the jewel nestled in her belly button and as I looked up at the black leather straps crisscrossing her sizable breasts, I wondered for the hundredth time tonight how she could breathe.
She smiled over at me, her candy apple red lipstick exaggerating the fullness of her lips. “You doing all right, hon? Need another Coke?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to stare at her chest as I skid my glass over.
At least the caffeine would keep me awake until Cherry came back. Even if I had thought to ask Hunter for a room key before he took off earlier, I’d never be able to sleep until I knew my sister was safely inside the building.
What could I say? Looking out for my sister came as naturally to me as breathing, and five years apart wouldn’t change a habit I’d had my entire life. If anything, I felt like I was back in high school, waiting for Cherry to crawl back through our window.
Shay reached for the soda gun, pressing the button to pour more Coke into my glass. “Your sister doesn’t drink much either.”
Flashbacks from our childhood played like a football highlight reel in my mind and I wasn’t surprised to hear Cherry wasn’t much of a drinker. To this day I couldn’t stand the smell of alcohol on a man’s breath.
Ruthlessly, I pushed those unpleasant memories aside and asked, “How long have you known Cherry?”
“Let me see.” She tapped a long black nail against her chin. “I started dancing at the club with her almost a year ago, but I didn’t move in here until much later. Cherry caught me using makeup to cover a black eye and freaked out. When she went and got Ryder, I thought for sure I was going to lose another job.”
Admittedly, I didn’t know the first thing about being a stripper, but her comment seemed odd. Why would a black eye cause you to get fired? Men weren’t exactly there to look into her eyes. Then the answer hit me, and I felt a peculiar squeezing in my chest.
“Jesus,” I blurted out. “It wasn’t because you reported a patron for hitting you, was it?”
