be so easy if my death count increased. Nyx believed he was the deadliest guy in the MC. But what he did with his hands, in no way compared to what I could do with mine.
And I knew my brothers wanted retribution, and I knew they wanted me to build something that would give them that.
You didn't say no to the council.
You complied.
This wasn't a democracy. But even though the decision was mine to make, in the end, what I created would bring destruction. And that would rest with me and my soul.
It was why, when I saw Rex's name flash on the caller ID, I almost didn't pick up. Thus far, the council had been acting without his say-so. But for him to call me directly meant he needed something from me. Something that only I would be able to give him.
I was the most overeducated bartender on the East Coast, and somehow, I was the one who got the shittiest, dirtiest, filthiest jobs.
Old habits were ingrained so I connected the call and pulled over. Feeling more whipped now than I did when I thought about the lengths I would go to on my woman's behalf.
"Hey, brother, how are you doing?"
"Christ, man, I'm the one who should be asking you. How's Bear?" I already knew the answer, everyone in the MC did.
The level of grief ricocheting around the MC was indicative of how much we loved the old bastard. If we didn't go to war over the bombing, it would be for Bear, no word of a lie. He hadn’t been my Prez, Rene had died the year before I arrived in West Orange, but I knew him, and knew I’d go to bat for him like all those who’d served under him.
"No change. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Look, I need your help, and I need this to stay between me and you."
My brows lowered, but Rex was good people, and if he wanted to keep something between me and him, then I wasn't about to argue.
"Sure, man. How can I help?" I asked as I watched the MC's diner in the near distance. Still in West Orange, I'd admit to contemplating whether or not to bring home take-out for Indy and me.
They said that every man thought about sex six times a second, or some crap like that, but throw in a concussion and some broken ribs, and it was a killer on your sex drive.
"Before Bear started the run back home, I called him."
Across the street, a car backfired which had me jerking in surprise, while Tiffany, Sin's Old Lady, barged her way out of the diner, giggling over something that she and Lily were talking about before they jerked like they’d been shot at the car too.
As crazy as it seemed, with half of the MC still traumatized from the bombing, laughter was the best medicine, and I resented the stupid car for ruining that moment for them. Both women were back at the compound, back to that night.
Fuck.
It was going to take a long time to get over what we’d all gone through, and I was just grateful Indy had been working, because I wouldn’t want her to be going through this as well.
"Yeah, I remember,” I said gruffly, watching the Old Ladies link arms and walk over to their car like they were depending on each other to keep themselves standing. “You wanted to tell him about your Ma, and what mine had to say."
"See, I thought I was keeping him in the loop, but I found out he was just keeping me out of it. He already knew."
"Shit! He knew and didn't tell you?"
"Apparently." His sigh tunneled down the line. “He told me some shit that he said I’d think he was crazy for spouting, and maybe I did, maybe I thought he was losing it. I know how hard Mom’s death affected him—”
"And then we were hit."
"And then we were hit," Rex confirmed. "So now, his conspiracy theory sounds pretty fucking real to me."
"Conspiracy theory?" I scratched my chin where my stubble had turned into a full out beard—I really needed to shave—and mocked, "Let me guess, the federal government–"
"Well, partially. I know it sounds insane, Cruz, you don't have to tell me that. But this goes deeper. He seemed to think that some dirty cops were…"
"Dirty cops are alive and kicking, Mommy dearest is proof of that."
"Exactly. I was wondering if you could speak with her? Maybe offer