Chapter Twenty-Three

M Y REWARD FOR fucking my nemesis’s daughter?

Eighteen straight hours of comatose sleep.

Sleep my body finally allowed me after temporarily forgetting my ink and possibly fucking away my brother’s trust. The Cecelia-induced haze I was under dissipated the second my eyes popped open at nightfall the next day. After spending the better part of last night into this morning exploring Denny’s endless acres of cultivated farmland, my determination kicked in to rectify the situation.

Feeling I’ve summoned what I need due to my literal pre-dick-ament, I step through the front door finding Denny in the kitchen. Spotting me, he wordlessly pours a cup of steaming brew before holding it out in offering.

Taking a sip, I thank him, and he replies with a grunt before spraying his counter with a label-free bottle to wipe it down. No doubt the concoction is his own mix.

What so many don’t know about Denny—who always passes in the sharing circle—is that he’s our most resourceful bird. He made it his mission to utilize the farmland he bought outright and mastered it in a way that would put all doomsdayers to shame. Whether chemist or carpenter, he fills whatever role necessary to self-sustain without help from the outside world. For that, he has my admiration. We’re alike in the fact that he both craves and thrives in isolation while working overtime to exercise restless energy. Glancing outside his floor-to-ceiling windows at the blooming grounds of his personal compound, it’s apparent he’s as restless as ever.

Of all our birds, Denny is amongst my most trusted, next to his fiancée. Layla was brought in early on by another bird, Craig, who became a fast liability after getting inked and took pleasure in treating Layla like shit. His tirade ended a mere week after Denny was brought into the flock and laid eyes on Layla, choosing her as his first big heist. Their relationship since has been intense, to say the least. Denny’s borderline obsession with Layla turned into full-blown possession when he not only marked her but ringed her finger soon after, making fucking sure everyone else got the memo. Suspicions are that Denny delivered the news to Craig personally.

Whether Craig’s death was by Denny’s design remains unknown, and we decided that if that was the case, it was his secret to keep because, if so, Denny did us all a service. And like Layla, Denny’s a master at guarding secrets with a heaving side helping of not asking before carrying orders out to the letter. If I could, I’d replicate him. “And where has your lady bird flown off to?”

Denny shrugs. “Figured you didn’t want her asking questions, so I tasked her with an errand to give you a chance to make a clean getaway.”

“You really do speak my love language, bro.” I tip my cup toward him in salute.

Grinning, he pulls open a drawer producing my burner.

“Anything happen while I was out?” I ask, taking it.

“Yeah, we got what we needed,” he confirms.

I nod. Pleased by the fact that they used my brief sabbatical to successfully lift prints from Spencer’s accomplices. It brings us a step closer to marching Spencer toward the guillotine. “I’m going to take off.”

I walk my cup over to the sink and rinse it, soaking in the view of his pond and the surrounding grounds. “What you’ve done with the place, man, it’s incredible. A recluse’s dream.”

“It is, thanks,” he says with a pride-filled grin.

“Appreciate you, man. Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Anytime,” he offers, walking me to the door.

“You hate company,” I chuckle.

“Not the quiet kind.” His lips lift before I take the stairs of his porch, pulling my keys from my jeans. He calls after me, stopping me at my driver’s door. “You good, Dom?”

“ Almost made a clean getaway,” I jest.

“I only give a fuck because of the state you were in when you got here.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. See you tonight.”

“See you,” he says before shutting the door, no doubt relieved I didn’t want to talk feelings.

Pulling up to the townhouse a few hours later, I park next to Sean’s Nova and gather the bags littering my passenger seat. Just as I hit the top of the stairs, Sean’s bedroom door opens. Flipping on my bedroom light, I place my burner on the magnetic strip that blocks all digital signals before dumping the bag’s contents on my bed.

A second later, Sean fills my doorway, assessing me as I start to line my empty shelf. “What’s good, brother?”

“Not a lot since both my girl and best friend went AWOL.”

“Well, you know me. If you’ve got a personal problem...it’s best to keep it to yourself.”

He chuckles, sauntering into the room. “You’re such a dick.”

“Yet, like all the others, you keep coming back for more,” I deadpan.

I continue to load my shelves as Sean clears his throat. “‘He slipped his shorts down enough so his ready cock sprang free,’” he recites, open paperback in hand. “‘He was so hard, pre-cum dripped from the tip. He took it in his hand and pumped a few times.’ I see we’re expanding our summer reading repertoire,” he muses, tilting the book my way.

“The romance genre alone grosses over a billion a year,” I counter, “which is currently more than our collective net worth .” Gathering more books, I turn to stock them and pause when I glimpse the hardback sitting on the shelf above.

“Clearly they’re cashing in on you ,” Sean quips as I brush my finger down the severely cracked spine of my mother’s copy of Le Petit Prince . A vision of her shutters in, nestled in her favorite tattered chair, the open book resting on the arm of it as the sun streams through the window behind her. This time, I’m thankful for the memory without the accompanying guilt.

“Or maybe you’re the one planning on cashing in,” he rasps thoughtfully, sorting through the books. Glancing back, I see his brows pull in confusion. “What is this, Dom?” His eyes narrow. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Whatever it takes,” I relay for a second time.

His mood shifts instantly. “So, you disappear for two fucking days and come back with a plan...to what? Hurt her ?”

“‘The ink will always win,’” I recite back to him.

“I told you, all in, Dom, and I fucking meant it.”

“You seem to forget you don’t make the calls.”

“ You made this call, and if I can lure her out of hiding, I’m inviting her to the Meetup tonight.”

I dip my chin. “I’ll drive her in.”

“To protect her.” Both statement and question.

“Sure.”

“God damnit,” he runs his hand through his hair, “if you’re planning on hurting her—”

“Maybe you conveniently forgot, but it was your plan to use her to get to Roman.”

“I won’t let you intentionally fuck with her,” he growls.

“The way you have me ?”

He swallows, eyes dropping as I turn back to the shelves.

“We’re going to end her father, Sean. There’s no future for you and Cecelia. Make peace with it.”

“I get that, but—”

“You fucking need to because France is eventually going to find what he’s looking for, and when he does, it’s only a matter of time. Once that happens, you can’t protect her.”

“And you won’t?”

Annoyed, I push past him to grab a shower, and he grips my bicep to stop me. Jerking away, I glare at him. “In a matter of hours—by your design—she’s going to know damn near everything and will most likely run anyway. So, this conversation is pointless. Are you prepared for that? Because that’s the risk you’re taking baptizing her by fire.”

He hooks his thumbs into his jeans pocket. “It’s the way we’ve always done it when a recruit is ready. She’s earned my trust and the right to know who we are.”

“But she never truly will, will she? Even after you stomp on her rose-colored glasses.” Stepping toward my bathroom, I fist off my shirt. “I’m done debating this. Completely fucking done arguing about her. It was a mistake to bring her anywhere near us.”

“That’s your fear talking,” he digs in.

“No, it’s yours,” I snap. “We need to focus.”

Sean bites his piercing before turning to stalk out.

“You were right about her,” I call after him, kicking off my boots, “I’ll give you that much. I see her potential, just not for our club.”

He runs a hand through his hair as he lingers just inside my door. “Align yourself to any agenda you want when it comes to her, but I was fucking there , and I felt that shit happen between you.” He shakes his head, refuting my stance. “You won’t hurt her. Not intentionally.”

“You have no fucking idea what I’m capable of,” I grit out as he leers at me.

“Yeah, well. Apparently, neither do you, asshole,” he counters, stalking out, his parting words filtering in from the hall. “But lucky for you, I do .”