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I turned from Writer, so he didn’t see my smitten smile. Riker ignored everything going on and all the people gawking at him to sit further down the table to eat.
Monkey snorted. “Never seen a man run to a kitchen faster than him.” He clasped me on the shoulder. “Must’a been a good night.”
Scowling, I told him, “It ain’t any of your business.”
Monkey grinned.
I ignored him and faced Writer again. “Tell me your side.”
Writer’s brows pinched. “What do you mean? I found cameras hidden in my room and want to know what fucker thought to play a trick on me.” He peered off. “Was it you, Coms? This because I got your pussy?” He laughed and looked around for others to join in. When no one did, he went on, “She don’t want a youngin’ like you. She wanted someone who knows what?—”
“Enough,” I bit out.
“Man, you’re not this stupid,” Spade said with a shake of his head.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Writer asked.
“You know why the cameras were in your room.”
He tensed. “I don’t.”
Sighing, I ran a hand over my head. “You think we wouldn’t check into things when Pauly called Spade about the missin’ payment? Trusted you, brother. But can I really call you a brother now?”
“I haven’t done anythin’.”
“Says a person who’s guilty,” Monkey voiced. “Looked into the books, Writer. Saw some miscalculations.”
The brothers around us started cursing and saying shit as they gathered closer. They silenced as soon as I raised a hand.
“I haven’t done?—”
“Lie to me again and I won’t be fuckin’ happy. Why you takin’ from club businesses? What you need the extra money for?”
It’d better be a good answer.
His jaw clenched as he lowered his gaze to the floor.
“I was in this club with your pops. With your dad. You gonna do this shit to me in front of everyone? Where’s the respect?”
“Respect? You wanna talk about respect? We trusted you and you shit all over that by takin’ money from the club. Takin’ money from your family. It doesn’t matter you knew my pops and that crackhead of a father. I’m the one who brought this club outta its hellhole after dad ran it into the ground. You came to me, Writer, and told me I’d done a good job. That Pops would be happy. That we can live a clean, good life with the brotherhood again. When did things go wrong for you, Writer? When did you turn your back on the brotherhood and betray us?”
He glanced to the exit. I braced. If he was foolish enough to try and run, I’d take him down.
A sigh left him, and his shoulders drooped. The fight in him vanished.
He shook his head and ran a hand over his withered face.
“Cards,” he said.
“Gamblin’?” Coms asked.
He nodded.
“You stole from your family for an addiction of bettin’?” Monkey demanded.
“You don’t understand. I won big and I can do it again. I just need more time.”
Fucking hell.
