Chapter Fourteen

Staring into the dark lobby of the garage from my seat, I run my knuckles down my wheel, tightening my hold on the burner phone. “I’m asking you to give me an inch, a fucking inch. I can’t just sit back while—”

“You can and you will,” Tobias snaps. “One at a time, Dom, and we need to concentrate on who’s first.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking me. Every day you deny me to act is a day wasted.” Another life stolen, innocence lost, and a monster’s victory. But I can’t let on too much about how it’s affecting me. He’s rested the club’s fate in my hands, and if he catches wind of how much my side project is fucking with the job, he may very well snatch it out of my grasp. I need some semblance of control. If Tobias takes the day-to-day away from me, it will be a fate worse than the one I’m living. His silence on the other end of the line tells me he’s contemplating that decision.

“Stop. Don’t even think about it,” I warn.

“If you know what I’m thinking, then why are we having this conversation?”

His accent is getting thicker, and for some reason, it irritates me. Maybe it’s because I don’t want him claiming home to be on that side of the ocean. Though at this point, he’s lived more of his life in France than he has here.

“We can’t risk it, Dom.”

“What they’re doing . . . what they’re fucking getting away with—”

“Has been happening for endless years and isn’t stopping anytime soon.”

“I get your logic,” I admit begrudgingly.

“Do you?” His tone is full of condescension.

If he’s speaking to Tyler as often as he is to me—and Tyler gives him more reason to worry—I might have already lost my place.

“Don’t fucking do it,” I snap. “I’ll do your bidding. I haven’t moved in on shit. That’s why we’re fucking arguing.”

“Prove it is the right decision. Your time will come, brother.”

“And how many times have I heard that?” I snap, running my knuckles down my wheel in a way that burns. I hear the clink of ice to glass and know then that he’s also not putting a real voice to what’s got him so worked up.

“Any progress on finding him?” I ask in an attempt to get something from him. Our conversations are rare as is, and I know it’s so he can stay focused. For whatever reason, he’s chosen our club’s tipping point to search for his birth father, and I’m trying not to begrudge him for it.

“No,” he replies. “A whisper of something, then silence for fucking days, sometimes weeks.”

“Elusive, huh? An inherited trait, no doubt.”

“I’m trying, Dom.”

“Try harder.”

“You’ve been no help to me recently,” he snaps.

“A little busy here,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Tell me,” he urges, not as the shot caller but as my brother. His emotional whiplash tells me he’s just as on edge as I am.

“My job has been a little hectic lately, but our pension is looking pretty fucking spectacular.”

“Good to hear,” he muses. “How are things at home?”

Delphine.

“The definition of insanity.” I scrub my face thinking about my aunt rotting away in that house—how I watched her pour a drink from the porch just after parking her in her recliner earlier today. She’s shackled herself to that house for as long as I can remember now. It’s as if she’s serving a self-imposed prison sentence.

“Don’t let her miss a treatment,” he orders.

“I’ve got it,” I snap.

Silence. The clink of ice.

“Try not to resent me too much, brother,” he finally says, recognizable guilt coating his tone. He’s either on his third or fourth drink and getting antsy due to the time away—mostly from me. The paternal concern is starting to kick in. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m just as fucking worried about his situation. On that, I’m done obeying orders and formulating a plan instead.

“You tell me about home,” I prod.

“I’m talking to home.”

“You do know the definition of insanity, don’t you?”

He circles his glass, and I realize he’s drained it already. That knowledge grates on me.

“It’s repeating the same actions over and over again and expecting different results. That’s where waiting has gotten us.”

He releases my name like it’s a nuisance as a text comes through my personal cell.

Ginger: He’s here.

“Don’t let my shit keep you from sipping your guilt away, brother, seeing how it’s worked out so fucking well for the rest of the family. I have shit to do.”

Smashing the phone into my dash, I toss its remains on my passenger floorboard. Reveling in the timing of Ginger’s text, I allow the residual anger to snake its way into my vision. Downshifting, I fly in the direction of her apartment. Once parked, I grab what I need from my glove box. As I do, recent, concerned looks of every single one of my inked brothers flit through my mind . . . along with Tobias’s warning. Pressing send on a last-minute text to Sean, I slam my door closed and make a beeline for Ginger’s apartment door.

Ginger opens the door just as I approach, and I see the source of her fear standing next to a littered coffee table. Nearby, a baby no older than a year bounces in a chair. Rage engulfs me, and I zone in on the motherfucker who barely has time to drop his glass pipe before I’m on him. Clamping a hand on his neck, I drag him toward the open front door.

“What the fuck?!” He shrieks, attempting to turn his head as I keep him bent but walking.

“Dom!” Ginger’s sister, Marie, screams my name as if she has some ability to reason with me.

“Pack his shit,” I bark at Marie as Ginger holds the door open so I can take the trash out.

Stopping just outside of it, Marie starts to berate Ginger, and the greasy piece of shit in my grip gets it together enough to start questioning me. “What the fuck, man?! Who the fuck are you?”

Gripping his hair, I pull his head up enough to scan the parking lot.

“Which one is yours?”

“The S10, fuck, please ease up, Jesus Christ!”

“He’s not answering today,” I inform him before pinning him to his rust-eaten Chevy. “I already called.”

“She didn’t tell me she had a man, dude. I swear.” Inside, I hear the baby start to scream along with Marie, and my hackles rise.

Sean speeds into the parking lot, and in seconds, he’s by my side, his voice barely audible to the pulse thrumming in my ears as I stare at the fucking junkie who was about to hit a pipe with a baby mere feet away.

“Dom,” Marie screeches as she bounds into the parking lot with Ginger on her heels. “Dom, please don’t hurt him!”

I slam him against his truck, leering at him as Sean’s words finally start registering.

“Easy, man. This isn’t the time or place.”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” I inform greasy. “This isn’t your place. Ginger wants you gone. So go.”

Marie turns on Ginger. “I told you it was just a couple more days!”

Ginger stands her ground. “You said that two months ago! I found a pipe in Toby’s car seat this morning!”

Greasy, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me, starts to sputter as I slam him into the side of the truck again. “You’re smoking that poison around a baby. Are you not aware that shit can seep into his clothes, his skin?”

“Please, Dom, don’t hurt him!” Marie shrieks.

The crackhead’s smoked, false bravery decides to speak up on his behalf as he questions Marie. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

Sean supplies the answer for her. “You don’t want an answer to that. It’s best if you leave, man, and take him at his word. He’s not a fan of repetition.”

Keeping the fucker pinned to the truck, I pat him down before yanking his keys from his jeans and pressing them into his chest.

Marie must have taken a hit of the same bravery as her first threat comes out. “Let him go, or I’m calling—”

I flit my gaze to her. “You sure you want to finish that sentence, Marie?”

She backtracks as Sean turns toward her, his expression just as unforgiving as she cowers. “You know I wouldn’t. Just, please . . . let him go.”

Focusing back on the sweat-slicked junkie, I see him for exactly what he is—a complete and utter waste of a life. “Your dick seems to be clouding judgment around here.” Slamming him against the truck again, he fades, going limp in my hold.

My voice of reason speaks up beside me. “Ease up, Dom. What’s your name, man?”

“Jeffrey.”

“Jeffrey was just leaving, weren’t you, Jeffrey?” Sean gives him an easy out, a script to repeat, which he does not follow.

“Seems he’s having a hard time grasping the concept, so we’ll make it easy.” I turn to Marie. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Pack his shit. He’s taking it with him. We’ll wait, won’t we, Jeffrey?”

Jeffrey, who is full of bad decisions, has the gumption to look bored. “Yeah . . . sure.”

I turn to Ginger. “You said two months?”

“Around that, yeah,” she replies with a shaky voice, her eyes darting nervously.

“Has he given you a fucking dime for anything—rent, utilities?”

“I don’t care about that,” she waves her hand.

I turn on her. “Then maybe you deserve an unwanted houseguest if you’re willing to be so hospitable.”

She quickly speaks up. “I just want him away from my nephew.”

“I wasn’t hurting him,” Jeffery offers in a shit excuse.

“Jeffrey,” Sean shakes his head, “don’t talk.”

“Nah, let’s chat. How much cash do you have on you, Jeffrey?”

Jeffrey fearfully glances at Sean for more help and finds none.

“I dunno.”

“Hmm, Sean, how much do you have on you?”

Sean answers instantly. “Around three hundred and change.”

I turn to Ginger. “Ginger? What about you? How much is in your wallet?”

“I just filled up, so around forty dollars. Why?”

“Because only a loser without a care in the fucking world is unaware of how much money they have in their pocket, and that’s because they’re content with someone else doing all the heavy lifting.”

Reaching into Jeffrey’s back pocket, I pull out his pathetic Velcro wallet and glance over at Marie. “I see your tastes have changed drastically since high school, and you’re only getting classier with age.” Ginger snorts as Marie glares at me. “I told you to go pack his shit.”

“Dom—”

“Go soothe your screaming baby and pack his shit!” Sean snaps at her, and her eyes widen in a way that she knows arguing is futile. She turns on her heels as I fix my stare back to the cesspool she’s chosen to play father figure. I release him enough to keep him pinned with my elbow while I sort through his wallet. I pull out his license and hand it to Sean, who studies it. I pluck out a bag of powder inside the billfold and toss it at his feet before holding the wallet open for him.

“I’m guessing this is the full sum of your net worth right here. This is all you have?”

“Yeah.”

“Take the money out and give it to Ginger.”

“It’s all I got.”

“Technically, it’s not,” I correct. “What’s the street value of the powder?”

“Eighty dollars,” he replies, searching all sets of eyes on him for help that’s not coming.

“Eyes on me.” He lifts blown pupils to mine. “Give the money to Ginger.”

He hastily snatches the money from the wallet and thrusts it toward her. I can practically hear the crack in his back as I reprimand him for bad manners, and the bills float to the ground before Ginger has a chance to reach them. Jeffrey whimpers when I press my forearm against his neck. “Now, Jeffrey, simple mathematics will tell you you’re leaving with twice as much as you just gave her. But my guess is that you’re going to smoke your entire net worth before you reach the highway.”

Marie bounds out of the apartment with a trash bag, her son on her hip. His tiny chest bounces with his hiccups due to the strength of his cries. My resolve only strengthens as I rip my eyes away from him while I try to rid him of the monster that sleeps too close to his crib.

“Is that everything, Marie? We don’t want to give him an excuse for another house call.”

Sean reaches for the bag as she answers me. “It’s everything.”

I keep my eyes trained on the crackhead as Sean drops his shit in the back of his truck. “You’re packed, but if anything is missing, you can live without it.”

Jeffrey dips his chin in reply.

“Need to hear you say it,” Sean instructs as I press in, and he winces, agony etched on his features.

“Right. R-Right, if anything is missing, I can live without it.”

Releasing him, I step back as Jeffrey quickly grabs his only priority—his bag of dope—and grips the handle of his truck. Eyeing me for my next move, I step back and allow him the space to get in. It’s when he’s safely inside and fires up his truck that I tap his window with my Glock. Jeffrey’s eyes bulge at the sight of it before he hesitantly cracks his window a fraction.

“Don’t call. Don’t write. You won’t be missed.” Jeffrey nods, and I step away as he floors the gas, speeding out of the parking space and biting the curb hard with his exit.

Marie turns to Ginger with a glare, adjusting Toby on her hip. “I fucking hate you.”

“You’re next,” I tell Marie. “And if you so much as utter another disrespectful word to the person putting a roof over you and your son’s head, it will be now rather than later.” She opens her mouth and thinks better of it before stomping off and slamming the apartment door. Ginger turns to me, the relief on her face enough even if she voices it. “Thank you.”

“He’ll be back,” I warn, “and she’ll let him in while you’re working. When that happens, text me.”

She nods half a dozen times, her expression filled with gratitude. “Okay. I will. Thank you. Really, I’m sorry—”

“You know he isn’t the problem, right?” I tell her.

“I do, but she’s the only family I have, even if she’s a nightmare.”

“I can relate.”

Sean chuckles at my reply—one of the rare few who gets the joke as Ginger eyes me in a way I used to welcome when in need of a distraction. I can read her invitation before she voices it. “Do you want to come in?” She looks between me and Sean. “Uh, both of you? I’ve got some beer.”

“I’ve got shit to do,” I tell her. She nods, expecting the answer I gave.

“Okay, well, I’m around if you change your mind.”

“Text me if he comes back,” I turn and stalk toward my car.

“Night, Sean. Thank you.”

“No problem, Ginger, see you,” Sean says before catching up with me.

“She grew up a stunner, didn’t she? Your first crush in junior high.”

I don’t take his bait as he continues, trailing me to my Camaro.

“Something tells me this favor was sentimental in nature, but you always did have a thing for redheads.”

“I grew out of her a long fucking time ago,” I tell him honestly. What I don’t say is that I grew out of this town after my freshman year in Boston. Coming back hasn’t at all felt like a homecoming. Years out of Triple Falls did exactly what my brother predicted it would do. It boosted my ambition to a different level—pivoting my aspirations on a much bigger scale—which only adds to my unrest. If Tyler feels the same after his years away, he doesn’t voice it. Aside from his few trips during my college years, Triple Falls is all Sean has ever known. But if given the choice, I don’t think he’d ever venture too far away from the county line. This town is in his blood. I don’t fault him for it, but it distances us a little in mindset, which only adds to the growing gap between us. “I didn’t need you playing good cop. I had it fucking handled.”

“Then why did you call me here?” A question he answers for himself. “We both know if he had fifty more pounds on him, this would have been a shit show. You have got to get a handle on whatever is festering inside you. And if it’s Cecelia—”

“It’s not. I’ve made my decision. We’re moving forward.”

“You sure, man?”

Gripping my door handle, I glance over at him. “Whatever it takes.”