Cruz (Dark and Dirty Sinners' MC #5) - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,49
’13.”
My mouth twisted into a smirk. “I know for a fact there’s no evidence in that case.”
“Yeah?” Something shifted in her eyes. “How?”
“I’ve got friends now, Mom. Friends who look where most people wouldn’t dare. So, remind me, why would I help you when you haven’t got shit over me?” Mom’s language of love was leverage, just like she’d admitted.
As I looked at her, I had to admit, I didn’t hate her. Sure, I hated what she stood for, but I didn’t hate her. She’d made me what I was, and I was almost thankful for that.
She was also, I knew, the only person who’d ever match me. Who’d ever be my equal. There was a kind of symmetry to that that pleased me. So whenever I approached her, it was always like Garry Kasparov coming up against Deep Blue.
She squinted at me, but I only arched a brow, completely at ease with this conversation because, as my patch-in present when I’d become a full brother in the MC, Maverick had erased all the evidence in that investigation that had seen my mom become the keeper of my destiny.
I knew that made it sound like something from an Indiana Jones movie, but being indebted to Caro Dunbar was not something anyone wanted.
Sure, I was showing my hand, but I could tell… this was important to her. And there was a reason she didn’t want to go running through the appropriate channels to find out who had died on our turf so it was worth burning that card to figure out her game.
“I’ll owe you.”
I snorted. “That’s it?”
“You know I’m good for it.”
Scrubbing my chin, I murmured, “I’ll have to poke around. Far as I know, no one has been murdered in West Orange for a good long while. The last time was Luke Lancaster, and that wasn’t exactly murder, was it?”
Something flashed in her eyes at that. Awareness? Had she been involved with the Lancasters? Took a snake to know a snake, I reasoned.
“No. I suppose not. If you have to ask around, then you’re no use to me. The whole point of this conversation is for the victim to remain unknown to certain people.”
I studied her, wondering what her game was, but like me, she was shielding her expression. “I’d ask which people, but I don’t think you’re going to tell me.”
“You’d be right.” She tipped her chin at the door. “You can go now.”
Mockingly, I saluted her. “Nice visit, Mom.”
She just grunted, turned on her heel, and headed back to the kitchen.
Letting myself out, I released a deep breath, feeling a sense of strange liberation because now she knew she couldn’t play the evidence card against me, it was like a load off my shoulders. Sure, I hadn’t been worried in a long time, but it was still nice for the old cunt to know the truth.
Wriggling my now burden-less shoulders as I stretched, I peered around the old neighborhood, oddly perturbed by the sight of my very middle class background. Few people in the clubhouse had a childhood as regular as mine, so in a way, I was grateful—especially after hearing Indy’s horror stories—but this place was somewhere I’d outgrown, that was for sure.
As my gaze dipped around a couple of front yards, I saw the black SUV from the corner of my eye and made sure the vehicle’s occupants weren’t aware I spotted them.
Mom was a Fed, so I doubted she had her own people watching her unless they’d finally figured out she was dirty, but she definitely had a tail. They were purposely on the opposite side of the road to her place, and with their back to the house as well.
Still, it was no sweat off my nose if the bitch died. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with those goddamn phone calls that came out of the blue. Because even though I’d removed her leverage, she’d still try.
As she’d told me all my life—God loved a trier.
Shame for her that God had turned his back on us a long time ago.
Rex
In front of my men, even my council, I never allowed any weakness to show for long. If we were outside of church, talking between ourselves, maybe I would. Just as they would. It wasn’t like I was running a fucking daycare here. We were men, we were bikers, we were Sinners, for fuck’s sake.
We didn’t wail about our pasts on a shrink’s sofa. We dealt with shit ourselves.