Spark of Hope (MacKenny Brothers #3) - Kathleen Kelly Page 0,32
you think.”
Reaching out, I put my hand on his arm. “Now’s the time to tell us, brother.”
Hanging his head, he says, “Cristiano likes Deedee. He gives her a discount or sometimes a freebie if she…”
The room quiets at his meaning. Deedee’s been fucking Cristiano. All eyes are on him. No one can believe that he’d let her, or that he’d put up with it once he knew. Sean stares at me with his eyes bulging. Like me, we can’t believe that Wheels has been going this alone or that it’s gotten to this point.
In a measured, level voice, I say, “Deedee is a liability. She needs to go.”
Wheels nods. “I know, but she’s the mother of my children.”
“Are they yours?” asks Rocky.
Wheels eyes him sharply. “Yes.”
“I’m not trying to break your balls, Wheels. But how do you know?”
“It doesn’t matter if they are biologically mine or not. They’re mine.”
His meaning is clear, and I’m impressed with his outlook. Wheels and Deedee have two children, a boy and a girl.
“We’ll give Deedee a choice, rehab or shunning.”
“I’ve tried, Kyle. She goes for a day, maybe two, but it doesn’t stick.”
“Then, she’s out.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Wheels replies honestly.
I understand how he feels. If someone asked me to choose between the MC and Lola, I’m not sure I could. I’d like to think I’d choose the MC, but if they’d vote against getting Lola back, I might just hang up my presidency.
“Rocky, you and Arrow go with Wheels and have a sit-down with Deedee. If she says no to rehab, help her on her way.”
“Wheels, I’m your friend. But regardless if she goes into rehab or not, Deedee needs to go. Do you want your kids growing up around a junkie, slut? One who shows you no respect. Jesus, Wheels, grow a set.” Rocky says all of this staring at his friend while Wheels avoids eye contact with the men sitting around the table.
Bags places his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him, clasps his hands together, and stares at me. “How much do the Cartlands owe the Rochas?”
“Sixty K.”
There are a few whistles around the table, and Bags shakes his head.
“I agree. We need to get Lola back. But I don’t think we should pay for it. Is there another way?”
Sean nods. “I agree with Bags.”
“I didn’t realize we were taking a vote,” I reply icily.
“Man, I get it. She’s your woman, but you said that none of this makes any sense. Could Lola be in on it?”
My gut tells me no, but Sean is right. I don’t know the full story yet.
Arrow speaks up, “You said that the Rochas killed Smokey, but that it’s complicated. It doesn’t sound complicated to me. One of them killed one of ours. For me, that shit’s pretty simple.”
The others around the table nod their heads, and I know they’re running on emotions and not thinking it through. The Rochas are a ruthless, powerful, rich cartel. They have resources we don’t. If we start a war with them, we won’t survive.
I stand, so I can better take in the faces of my men.
My MC.
The MC that I built, bringing together a group of men who needed to belong to something greater than themselves. It was me who started the custom bikes and cars, me who purchased the land that the clubhouse is now built on. I need them to have my back, to stand beside me and help me through this difficult time.
“I believe this is what we should do.” I hold up a fist and then point in the air. “One… pay the ransom to get Lola back.” Murmurs go around the table, but I hold up another finger. “Two… find out who killed Smokey, request he be offered as compensation for us to do with as we please. We’ll never win a war against them.” I hold up a third finger. “Three… find Yvette Cartland and put her down. From everything we can gather, she’s the one who started this whole fucking mess.” I drop my hand to my side. “And finally… sever all ties with the Rochas and do right by Wheels’ kids.”
“Let’s vote,” announces Arrow. “All in favor of paying the ransom for Lola?”
No one, not even Sean, puts up his hand.
“So voted,” says Arrow. “All in favor of going to the Rochas with our dicks in our hands and asking if they’ll hand over the killer?”
Again, no one puts up their hand.
“So voted. All