3. Halo

"You gotta stop hounding me," Vex says when he answers my call.

I just got home from the clubhouse. It's midmorning, and the sitter is pissed. Guess I said I'd be home by ten, but I paid her well for the sixteen-hour shift. My head pounds, and my stomach's a wreck. Managed to shove down a vat of coffee before I left the clubhouse, but that's left my gut feeling raw. Or maybe that's all the whiskey I downed last night during Dad's wake. I woke up alone, but there was evidence I fucked a whole lot before I passed out.

"Just wondered if you made any progress hunting Brad Collins down."

Lola grins at me from her high chair, where I just laid down some toast, banana, and cereal. Her little legs are still kicking at the sight of me. Never had anyone so excited to see me, even though there's a strong likelihood I stink of booze.

"Brother. As soon as I have anything, I'll let you know. But when I said yesterday that the man is a ghost, I meant it. And since then, it was the funeral and wake. I'm working on it, but I won't find him any faster with you calling me ten times a day."

I sigh and rub a hand over my face.

"Listen," Vex continues. "I know you're feeling it. That sense of responsibility that somehow your father caused everything that happened to the club."

That's exactly what I'm feeling. Because the head of the Righteous Brotherhood is his son. My half-brother. "I was wondering if I should go nomad. Go mano-a-mano with Collins."

"Yeah. ‘Cause that's a fucking brilliant idea. The man has an organization as big as the Outlaws and so far has a five hundred batting average against us. I get you are a badass SEAL, but this isn't a solo mission."

Lola fists a handful of banana. It squelches between her fingers. I glance up at the clock.

Shit.

It's Mercy's funeral in twenty minutes, and I've been stalling about going. I got no time for the woman who stuck her hands down my pants and told me that she wanted both Flynn men.

No. I'm not going. I focus back on Vex.

"I just feel…"

"I already said it. Responsible. So, your dad slept around. Big fucking deal. Most kids without a dad don't turn into raging monsters with a hard-on for killing the DNA trail. Collins needs to get over his shit, or we'll get over it for him. Nothing says ‘no more daddy issues' like a bullet to the brain and the destruction of everything he cared about."

I sigh. "Got it. Nomad was just a thought."

"Well, stop thinking it. We're better as a team. Gotta go. King wants me."

He hangs up, and I place my phone down on the table.

This isn't a solo mission.

Vex's words ricochet around my head. He's right. I would never have gone out on a mission on my own. In the SEALs, we had our own command center, and we lived and died as a unit. It's one of the reasons I live and breathe the Outlaws. We have the same bond.

Grief has this funny way of stripping away things you once found vital. I was letting it get in the way of the man I pride myself on being.

Fuck it.

This isn't the man I am. My sister needs to know I had her back. And when she asks, I need to be able to tell her we did right by her mom.

I grab Lola, high chair and all, and carry her to the guest bathroom where I put her down facing away from the glass cubicle. My own bathroom is still under renovation. I was hoping to have this house ready to flip next month and benefit from selling it in the summer. I planned to crash at the clubhouse while I found a new house to start on. It's not going to happen now, as all my attention is on Brad Collins.

I take a quick two-minute shower, periodically glancing over at Lola to ensure she isn't choking on her banana.

Once I have a towel wrapped around me, I turn her around.

Lola laughs when she sees me, like I just played the long game on peek-a-boo.

"Yeah, laugh, Lollipop. Sometimes I wonder if it's better you won't remember any of this."

Quickly, I comb out my long hair, throw on some deodorant and cologne, brush my teeth, and then carry Lola into my room.

The cereal goes everywhere as she swipes her arm over the surface, which means vacuuming when I get back. Quickly, I'm dressed.

Using a cloth, I do the best clean-up job I can on Lola before putting her into a simple cotton sundress. The black one she wore yesterday ended up covered in pizza.

Lola places her hand to my cheek as I sit her into the car seat in my truck. Funerals aren't my thing, even though I paid for Mercy's. Not even sure why I did that. Beyond the poor bitch having hung around the club so long, my dad seemed to have some affection for her, and she's Lola's mother.

None of the other brothers are coming. I didn't tell ‘em about it, although given the way the club girls were chitter-chattering about it, they probably know. When we arrive, I carry Lola and hustle up the steps into the small building and see some club girls I recognize.

Penny and a couple of the others are sitting in the front row, and they quickly move so Lola and I can take a seat. As soon as I do, I realize I left the bag with diapers and toys and snacks in the truck.

Fuck, if I need it, I'll send one of the girls out to get it. As I look around and see girls from the club, past and present, I realize I slept with about forty-two percent of ‘em. Good numbers, but they make me feel…cheap…while I'm holding Lola.

I close my eyes and let the drone of the dude at the front, telling us sparse details of Mercy's life, wash over me. There isn't much to say because little was known about Mercy's life before she joined the club. So the stories tend to lean to Mercy as an adult. How she had a big laugh and loved murder podcasts. Then it's done, and we're invited to say our last goodbyes.

I wait for everyone to leave, and then I take Lola up to the coffin. "Sorry life has given you such a shit start, Lollipop." I place her hand on the cheap wood. "Say goodbye to your momma."

I take a macabre selfie of the two of us in front of the coffin. Someday in the future, I want to show Lola she was there.

Lola jabbers at me. There are occasional words I recognize. Ball, her current favorite. No, followed by a head shake. But she's smiling, totally at odds with the somber moment.

The sound of a pair of heels coming toward me makes me turn. And for a guy who clearly got laid multiple times last night, I'm surprised when my hungover body takes an interest. Lean tan calves in heels. A short and slender frame tucked into a black dress. Perky tits that make me think Christmas has come in August. Thick strawberry-blonde hair drops in waves around her face.

A face that, despite the stoic attempts at makeup, is clearly beaten.

"You need to leave whoever did that to you," I say when she stops in front of me.

"Who are you two to Mercy?" Her eyes go to Lola, and I place a protective hand on Lola's back.

"Who's asking?"

Tears glitter in her swollen eyes, but they don't fall. She swallows deeply, clearly struggling to hold them back. "I'm Mercy's sister, Arianne. I'm hoping you can tell me more about what happened to her. We hadn't spoken in…a while."

A sister? I sort of see it. Same high cheekbones, gray eyes. But while there was a dull film over Mercy after years of living this life, Arianne still has sparkle, despite the bruising and swelling blooming over the left side of her face. Which makes me doubly furious at the person who decided to do that to her.

"I'm Halo. Your sister was in a…relationship…with my dad. This is their daughter, Lola."

"I'm an aunt?" she asks. Her whole face softens as she tentatively reaches out to smooth the hem of Lola's dress.

"Yeah."

"Were they married?"

"You familiar with club life, Arianne?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not. I'm not even sure what you mean when you say ‘club.'"

Can't decide if I buy that or not. Mercy, for all she was just described here as a wonderful human being, was a mercenary gold digger out for a quick buck. My father always said he thought she tricked him into knocking her up, not taking her pill or some shit. Although for a grown-ass man, he should have been wrapping his junk up and taking responsibility for it himself.

For all I know, Arianne could be the same. The bruises and swelling are too real to be part of an act, and you don't end up with a face like that without being around something bad.

She hasn't spoken to her sister for a long time if she didn't know any of this shit…but suddenly shows up for the funeral like a financial vampire sniffing green dollar bills. My bullshit barometer reads high, but I'll humor her for a minute.

"Wrinkle, my dad, Anthony, was part of the Iron Outlaws Motorcycle Club. Same as me. Mercy was a club girl. A sweet butt."

"A what?"

I roll my neck and hear it crack. I don't need this shit. Lola begins to fidget in my arms. But maybe this woman is the answer to my prayers. If I can get her out of whatever mess she's in, get her set up in a way I know will be good and healthy for Lola, she can take her in.

But only once I know for sure that this isn't about the money and Lola will be safe.

"You really want to know? Wouldn't it be better to just know your niece a little?"

The tears finally spill over her face. "My sister left home without a forwarding address or contact when I was thirteen years old. Our home life was miserable." She looks up at the ceiling. "Still is," she mutters, so quietly I almost miss it. "Just tell me."

"A sweet butt is a woman who…belongs to the club. As a…you know…when guys want company."

"My sister was a prostitute?"

"It's not as simple as that. But she ended up with my dad, Wrinkle. She lived with him." I gloss over all the details. Of how he never trusted her motives. How Mercy would make a pass at me every chance she got in a bid to upgrade the biker she was with. As road captain, I ranked higher than my father. With tears now running down Arianne's bruised face, I feel the need to spare her the specifics.

"Did he do this?" Her eyes go wide as she looks at Mercy's coffin.

I shake my head. "No. Someone broke into their home and murdered them both. I buried Dad yesterday."

And at the word murdered, Arianne places her forehead on Mercy's coffin and softly cries. "What the hell did you get yourself into?" she says.

I look at the picture of Mercy smiling. "I bet she'd ask the same question of you."