and your bored club brothers show up here to talk about the weather? If I ever find a girl of my own, I’m throwing a party and isolating the misery to a single night.”
“Fine, but only since I have no choice.”
Conor grins at my expression. “Look, we expect the wives to hold down the fort here in the Woodlands. Wouldn’t be fair to give them all the responsibilities with none of the power.”
“You say that because your mom is their queen.”
“More like co-queen. Bambi will cut a bitch if she can’t, at least, share the crown.”
“Well, I don’t want them cutting my people.”
We glance inside, where Pixie stands on the couch. Future sits on the ground, laughing his scrawny ass off. I assume they’re playing. Dove comes crawling over to her brother, and he squeals so loudly that I can hear him through the double-paned doors.
“No offense to your people, Anders, but most of the insults from my mom and aunt will fly right over their heads. Oh, and DeAnna and Taryn are coming, too.”
Enraged immediately, I growl, “I don’t want that first one in my house.”
“Dude, chill,” he says, patting my back. “No one wants DeAnna in their house. Unfortunately, she’s Wyatt’s wife. The rule is we pretend she doesn’t suck, and he doesn’t start shit with our women. When DeAnna insulted Lana, Bronco’s honey actually understood. But I suspect Pixie will only nod and look bored like she did when I first arrived.”
I smile at the thought of Pixie’s reaction to him. “So, they’ll be over when?”
“Around lunch. Lana needs to put her kid down by one. It’s fucking adorable how she believes she can run interference. The chick is too passive to deal with bitches. Eventually, she’ll accept the best solution is to wind up Topanga and let Lowell’s honey loose.”
“Do I have to feed the visiting women?”
“I wouldn’t,” Conor mutters, revealing a dark frown. “My mom never feeds anyone who visits. She doesn’t want them getting comfortable.”
I’ve always gone back and forth about which of Bronco’s sisters is bitchier. Barbie’s definitely the crazier one. However, Bambi often ramps up her drama queen level to a ten. Either way, they’ll start shit today. Then DeAnna and Taryn will find a way to make the situation worse. It’s their fucking gift.
“I might stick around for the drama,” Conor says and eyes the backyard. “Later, Bronco will decide when we’re hitting the Village.”
“I thought that was a done deal,” I mumble while watching Pixie jump from the couch to a chair while her brother laughs and claps.
“He isn’t sure how to get to Marks without killing a bunch of old people and kids. The press loves dead children, so we don’t want to bait them into noticing Elko by creating a body count. Besides, something happened last night that threw off his plans.”
As Conor pulls out his phone, I wait for him to explain. “After you left, two bikers came into Rooster’s and ordered beers. They were on the rough side and not locals, meaning our people noticed them right away. Bronco and Lowell were gone by then. I was around and told Carlie to make small talk with them. Despite the bunny’s best flirting, they played it real cold.”
“Could they be Reapers from Kentucky?”
“They weren’t from the Shasta crew,” Conor says, still fucking with his phone. “And they weren’t wearing vests. Could have been members of another Reapers chapter. Except Carlie swears she spotted a red spade tattoo on the forearm of one of the guys.”
His words send a painful jolt up my spine. My hands turn to fists. I’m seconds from punching Conor just to have a target.
“You think the Killing Joes were in Elko?” I growl like a rabid dog.
Conor ignores my tone. “You tell me. Bronco and Lowell didn’t recognize them, but we never knew all the guys in your crew.”
Unaffected by my heavy, rage-filled breathing, Conor proves why he got the club name “Frost.” The guy shows me the security pictures from the night before. They’re clear enough for me to immediately make out the faces of the two men sitting in Rooster’s.
“That’s Gak and Roadrunner,” I say, pointing at the dark-haired men. “They were younger guys in the club. Lonnie used them for stupid, violent shit anyone could do. They were hiding out of town when I did my head collection.”
“Them showing up now isn’t a coincidence,” he says. When I only frown, Conor continues, “John Marks needs muscle. You saw what he