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Bishop was afraid Frank wouldn’t be able to control him. While I was sure Frank wouldn’t condone Vince hurting me because of the trouble it would bring, it was just best for us to avoid situations where things could turn to shit.
So, the boys were under strict instructions to be a barrier against disaster.
Me, though? I was more concerned about what I was going to cook for lunch.
I told Bishop I’d take care of it. Missy had taken charge the past couple of weekends, and it was well known Missy did not cook, so takeaways it had been. And it’s not that there had been a single complaint. Bishop’s men were eager to hoover down anything and everything that tasted good, but I know when Lucy started the tradition, she cooked everything. It was all homemade.
And I wanted to bring it back to what she started.
When Calli first told me about Sunday lunch, I had to admit, I thought it was kind of funny. A bunch of bikers who had a permanent lunch date once a week? How absolutely insane the logistics of that must be. What if they were still drunk from the night before? Hungover? Sleeping? The entire concept didn’t make much sense at the time, but when I first experienced it for myself, the realization was almost instant.
The club was about the brotherhood.
Sunday lunch was about the family that surrounded them.
They were separate and tightly intertwined at the same time.
Sunday was the day they got to relax and check in on each other. It was a day to show appreciation for the people who surrounded you, whether you were a patched brother, prospect, Old Lady, son, daughter, niece, nephew, or friend. Where the clubhouse had rules about who could be invited in or who could hang around, Sunday at Bishop’s house was where everyone was welcomed.
It’d been a long time since I’d really felt like I was part of a family.
The night Mom died, that part of my life had died with her. From there, it had been a battle to stay alive.
And now, I’d seen how beautiful it can be to truly live.
That was why the quality of the food I was making needed to be amazing.
It was almost like a thank you. It was a show of my appreciation for these people taking me in like they had. Protecting me, having my back.
I marched inside, list in hand, moving down each aisle swiftly.
“You’ve got enough food there to feed an army.” A shudder rolled up my spine, vibrating through my shoulders. His voice was what nightmares were made of. It was deep, dark, and disturbing.
I took a second, inhaling a long, deep breath before pushing my shoulders back and turning to face him. “Vince,” I greeted with a nod. “What a strange place to randomly run into each other.”
A lie.
We both knew this wasn’t random.
I was nowhere near Bishop’s house or where I would usually shop.
And Vince sure as hell wasn’t the discount grocery-store type of guy with his fancy suit, leather shoes, and rings, which no doubt sported real diamonds on his fingers.
“The coincidence is mind-blowing,” he countered, his tone just as sarcastic as mine, which surprised me a little because while Vince obviously had a temper, he was usually far more composed until I pushed the right buttons to set him off.
The day he’d stood in Backroad and taunted us about attending his dad’s party, he’d taken absolute joy in knowing how uncomfortable both Bishop and I felt.
It had fueled him.
Yet, once again, we were in public—this time with me alone—and he seemed more tense.
“It’s been a pleasure, but I really need to get goi—”
“Whatever you said to Sarah worked,” he cut in, stepping in front of my cart and grabbing it tightly as I tried to go around him. I gripped the handle, trying to keep my shit together and not run away. “She took a page out of Alice’s book and almost killed herself in the process… overdosed while we were at dinner so she knew someone would call an ambulance.”
Because he wouldn’t have. He would have let her die after what happened when he took in Alice. The sick bastard thought that if he were going to lose a girl anyway, it might as well be to fucking death.
Sarah was smart though, it seemed like she’d been around Vince for a while. Maybe she’d just needed the right push, and I’d been able to give her that shove.
