CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kyle—

When we return to our clubhouse, the ol' ladies are waiting.

I climb from my bike slowly, stretching my aching muscles. The tiredness goes to my bones, but a little shot of adrenaline hits my veins when I spot Sutton in the crowd.

Our eyes lock, and she gives me a little wave.

God, I want to run to her and sweep her in my arms, but she's not my girl.

My brother reiterates that thought by doing what I long to do. He twirls her around, then sets her down and gives her ass a swat. His arm hooks around her shoulders, and he steers her inside.

I hang back and light a smoke, in no rush.

My father stops beside me as the crowd thins, everyone else heading through the door.

"How are you doing, son?"

"Tired."

He grins. "Can I bum a smoke?"

I shake one out for him, then flick my lighter, and he dips his head. Once it's lit, he blows smoke toward the sky.

"We having Church now?" I ask.

"God, I hope not. I want to get home. I'm exhausted."

"What do you think Prez is going to do about this whole Santorini situation?"

"I don't know. I hope he comes to his senses. I sure don't want a war with the mob."

Just the thought that one wrong move and that's where this thing could go is chilling. "Something like that starts, I don't think there'll be any way to stop it."

Wolf stares at the horizon. "It'd be like a runaway freight train, barreling toward the station."

"Dad?" I meet my father's eyes. "You've got to talk him out of this."

"I know. Crash and Red Dog are in there right now, trying to make him see it would be insane to go down this road."

"You think they can do it?"

"I don't know. I've never seen Cole back down when it comes to someone fucking with the club."

"It's not just us, Dad. This would drag every chapter in the country into this war. Over what? A two-bit lawyer we didn't even like much?"

"It's more than that. It's disrespecting the MC. Our territory."

"I think the mob thinks Vegas is their territory. I think they think it's been theirs since the forties."

Car tires on gravel draw my attention, and I tap my father's arm and lift my chin to the Mercedes pulling in.

"Silver's widow. Goddamn it," my father hisses and flings his cigarette. "Go deal with her."

I grind my butt under my boot and stroll over to the car, shoving my hands in my pockets. Before I reach the driver door, she's throwing the car in park and climbing out. Then she's stalking toward me, and I'm walking backward in front of her, my hands out.

"Can I help you, Mrs. Silver?"

"Yes, get out of my way," she snaps, trying to side-step around me, but I dart to the side, blocking her.

"What do you need?" I stall, hoping my father will come to my aid.

"I want to talk to Cole. Now."

I glance at Pops, and he nods.

"Okay, let me take you to him. Follow me." I hold the door for her, and she sails past me, her expensive perfume billowing in her wake. She's got on a caramel-colored coat with a matching fur color, a tight black skirt, tall boots, and enough gold jewelry to fill a bucket.

I lead her across the clubhouse toward the hall, aware of the eyes of every brother in the club, all twisted on their bar stools. Even the pool players pause the game to watch.

We go down the hall to his office, and I tap on the door.

"Yeah?" Cole's voice calls.

I open the door. "You got a visitor, Prez."

Before I can say more, she pushes past me, and Cole springs to his feet.

"Joselyn."

"Have you found anything?" she asks, her voice all soft and sweet for our prez.

Crash and Red Dog sit in the two chairs in front of the desk. Crash offers her his seat.

"Sit down, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweetheart," she snaps, then calms her tone. "I'm sorry. Thank you. That was kind. I'm just an emotional wreck." Her eyes return to Cole. "Did you catch them?"

"Not exactly."

No one tells me to get out, so I stick around.

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"We think Harry found out something that got him killed," Crash says.

Her gaze moves to him and back to our prez. "What kind of thing?"

Cole looks to Crash, and his expression reads, how much do we tell her?

Crash shifts. "He, ah, may have stuck his nose into some shit, sorry, stuff he should have left alone."

"What kind of thing?" she repeats.

Cole strokes his chin with the back of his hand and finally exhales. "The mob, Joselyn. He found out some things they were doing—illegal things—and we think that's what the trip to Vegas was about. We think he confronted the wrong people, and it got him killed."

"Who? I want a name," she says.

"The Santorini Crime Family," I say.

"Kyle," Cole snaps, shutting me up.

Her head swivels to me and then back to Cole. "You're serious, aren't you? The actual mafia?"

"Serious as a heart attack," Cole replies.

She lowers into the chair Crash vacated. "I can't believe this. Why would he get involved with anything to do with them?"

"We think it was an accident. He stumbled upon a drop-off site—a place they were using to move drugs into the country."

"But why would he go to Vegas?"

Cole shrugs. "We're not sure. We may never know what went down."

"Who's the head guy?" she asks.

"In Jersey?" Crash asks.

"No. In Vegas. Is it that Warren Drake man? He put the hit on my baby?"

"We've been told Warren Drake is actually Carlo Bianchi, Jr. According to our sources, the Santorinis installed him in Vegas when the last guy, Fat Tony, ended up floating face down." Cole tilts his head, and his eyes narrow on Joselyn. "Don't get any crazy ideas, Joselyn. These are not the kind of people you mess with."

"Are you going to take care of it?"

"We're not going up against the mob for you," Crash snaps, pissed off.

"VP," Cole barks.

But Crash doesn't stop. "Harry is dead and gone, Mrs. Silver. None of this will bring him back. The only thing it will do is get someone else killed. Is that what you want?"

Cole pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing, looking tired and frustrated. "We've been trying to come up with a way to get a little payback that doesn't end up with anyone else getting whacked by the mob."

"Have you come up with anything?" she asks.

"Not yet."

She stares at the floor, and we can all see the wheels turning.

Cole leans his elbows on the desk. "Don't even think about it, Joselyn."

Her eyes shift to him.

"I'm serious, woman. This is not Ocean's Eleven. You are no match against these guys."

"Maybe you don't know me very well. Maybe I'm the perfect person to go up against them. Maybe they'll never suspect me."

"Jesus Christ." Crash flings a hand out. "Are you hearing this, Prez?"

"Honey," Red Dog starts, taking her hand. "It's too dangerous. It's a nice thought that you want to avenge your husband like this. I mean that. It's real admirable, but we can't allow it."

Her brows lift. "Can't allow it?"

Cole's head drops. "Shit, Dog. Those are fighting words. You're married. You should know that."

"Okay, sorry. Poor choice of words. But don't be insane."

Cole slumps back and stares at the ceiling. "Now you're calling her insane, Dog."

"I didn't mean that. We don't want your blood on our hands."

"My blood wouldn't be on your hands," she replies.

"If we don't stop you, it sure will feel like it," Cole agrees. Then he pulls open a drawer and brings out a bottle and a handful of shot glasses. "Here. Let's drink to Harry. You know he wouldn't want you putting yourself in danger."

Cole fills them and passes them out. Then lifts his in the air. "To Harry. Best attorney we ever had, and a good husband."

She looks torn, but she drinks and sets her shot glass on the desk. "I want my money back."

Cole nods, reaches into a drawer, and drops the fat envelope on the desk.

She swipes it and stands, shoving it in her purse.

Cole rises to his feet. "You're not going to do anything, are you?"

She doesn't reply, then turns. I step out of her way, opening the door for her. Once her heels are clicking down the hall, I look back at Prez.

"She's gonna be trouble," he mutters.

"But not our trouble," Red Dog says.

"Depends if the mob found out we've been sniffing around. She could make it look like we're to blame for whatever she's concocting in that pretty blonde head." Cole lifts his chin at Crash. "We're gonna need to keep tabs on her movements. Set up a schedule. Rotate the prospects and some of the other guys. I want to know where she goes."

"On it. You got another one of them trackers?" Crash asks him.

Cole digs in his top drawer and tosses one on the desk.

Crash snags it and turns to me. "Come on, kid."

I follow him out the door, thankful, at least, the club isn't putting a hit on Carlo Bianchi.

"That was close," I whisper.

Crash frowns. "It ain't over yet. I need you to stall her long enough for me to put this on her car. Think you can handle that?"

"Sure." I trot ahead, catching up to her just as she's opening her car door. "Hey, darlin'."

She turns her blue eyes on me, giving me a quizzical look, her gaze traveling over me. "Yes? What is it?"

I give her a dazzling smile. "I'm sorry about how Prez treated you. I think it's real sweet how you want to take out these guys. I wish I had an ol' lady who wouldn't hesitate to kill a man for me." Out of my peripheral vision, I see Crash come out the door and head to his bike. I sidle closer to her and make sure she's turned away from the rear of her car.

He doubles back and moves slowly toward her bumper.

The gravel under his boots crunch, and Joselyn starts to turn.

Thinking quickly, I lift a hand to cup her cheek, keeping her eyes on me. "Harry was a lucky man to have such a beautiful, devoted woman like you." I'm pouring it on thick because Crash is taking his sweet time.

Joselyn shoves my hand away. "Are you hitting on me?"

Finally, he heads back to his bike, and I straighten, shoving my hands in my pockets. "No, ma'am."

She shakes her head and climbs in her car. "Good grief."

I stand there and watch her peel out, gravel flying.

Crash approaches me with a big grin on his face. "You dog. Hitting on the widow."

"It was all I could think to do. You took your sweet time, by the way."

"Well, when I heard you pouring it on so thick, I had to smoother my laughter. You into cougars, Kyle?"

"Bite me," I snap and head to the door, my VP's laughter following me inside.