Chapter Eight
L egend
I lean back in my office chair, rubbing my eyes as I stare at the pile of paperwork in front of me. It's been a week since New Year's, and I'm struggling to get my business off the ground again. The parole restrictions are making everything ten times harder than it needs to be, and that fucker Turner keeps popping up everywhere like a bad fucking rash.
“Fuck,” I mutter, reaching for my coffee mug only to remember that it’s empty.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my frustration. “Come in,” I call out, already knowing it's Braelynn.
She steps into the office, Ryder asleep against her chest in the baby sling.
Even with the bullshit going on around me, the sight of them instantly lifts my mood.
“Hey, baby,” I say, pushing back from my desk.
A small smile plays on her lips as she sets a cup of coffee on my desk. “Thought you could use a break. And maybe a refill?”
I grin, standing up to wrap my arms around her and Ryder. “You're a fucking lifesaver, you know that?”
She laughs, the sound music to my ears. “I try. How's it going in here?”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Slow. These fucking parole restrictions are making everything ten times harder than they ever were before.”
Braelynn's brow furrows. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shake my head, pulling her closer. “Nah, baby. You're already doing more than enough, taking care of Ryder and helping with the paperwork.”
She looks up at me, her eyes full of concern. “Maybe we should look into other options? I mean, if bounty hunting is going to be this difficult with your parole...”
I cut her off with a kiss. “It'll work out. I just need to figure out how to navigate this shit.”
She nods, but I can see she's not entirely convinced. Before she can say anything else, my phone buzzes. When I pull it out, I see a text from Viper.
Church
“Club business?” Braelynn asks, noticing the change in my expression.
I nod, already reaching for my cut. “Yeah, gotta head to the clubhouse. You good here?”
She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “We're fine. Be safe, okay?”
I kiss her again, then drop a soft kiss on Ryder's head. “Always am, baby. I'll be back soon.”
As I ride to the clubhouse, my mind races. We just had church two days ago, and nothing major was on the horizon. At least, nothing I knew about.
I pull into the lot, noticing a few unfamiliar bikes parked near the entrance. My guard instantly goes up.
Inside, I find Viper in deep conversation with two men I've never seen before. Holy shit. I almost trip over my own feet when I get a look at the back of their cuts. The fucking Kings of Anarchy are here, in our clubhouse. Everyone knows who they are. Rumor is that nobody fucks with the Kings.
“Legend,” Viper calls out when he spots me. “Come here, brother. Want you to meet someone.”
I make my way over, nodding at the strangers. “What's going on?”
Viper claps a hand on my shoulder. “These gentlemen are from the Kings of Anarchy out of Oden. They helped with a problem right before you got out.”
I raise an eyebrow. We usually handled our own shit, so the fact the Kings stepped in was intriguing.
The taller of the two strangers steps forward and offers his hand. “Bane,” he introduces himself, “and this is Tacoma.” I shake both of their hands, noting the President patch on the other man’s cut.
“Legend,” I reply.
“We're looking to expand our business interests,” Viper continues. “After doing us a solid, we decided to reach out to the Kings and see if they were interested in a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“What kind of arrangement?” I ask. After being away for over a year, there’s still a lot I’m not up to speed with. The last I remember, we were trying to cut ties with Hector, Viper’s father-in-law, who also happened to be the Godfather of the Cuban cartel.
Viper blows out a breath. “We’ve got merchandise that needs moving. They’ve got the connections.”
I get what he’s saying and at the same time I don’t. Before I was put inside, the plan was that we were getting out of the game and going legit.
I watch Viper, trying to read his expression.
“We'll need to discuss this with the rest of the club,” Viper finally says, his voice careful. “But I think we might be able to work something out.”
Tacoma and Bane nod, both of them seemingly satisfied. “Of course. We'll be in town for a few days. Let us know what you decide.”
As they leave, I turn to Viper. “Think there’s a lot I’m in the dark about.”
Viper's eyes are calculating. “I’m sure you’ve got a thousand questions, but I need you to trust me. Fuck. I need everyone to trust me. This is the start of us getting out of the game. We tried making shit work with the Cubans, but their reach isn’t big enough. With the Kings,” he nods towards the clubhouse door where Tacoma and his VP just left through, “we can finally get out of the game for good.”
My eyes widen. “Does Hector know about this? What if we get caught—” I’m fairly sure I’m not alone in the fact I don’t want to go back to jail. Or worse, have to worry about Hector and the fucking Cuban mafia gunning for us.
“He doesn’t yet, and nobody’s getting caught,” Viper cuts me off. “We'll be smart about it. With your parole and all of that shit, I’m keeping you far away from this shit for now.”
That makes sense. I’ve always been all in when it comes to club business, but now with me being on parole, I’m under a fucking microscope. Not to mention I’ve got Braelynn and Ryder to think about now.
“We’ll vote on it in church,” Viper says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I nod, my mind already racing with the implications of this potential deal.
As we file into church, Viper takes his seat at the head of the table, his face unreadable.
“Alright,” Viper begins, his voice low and serious. “We've got an opportunity with the Kings of Anarchy.” Backs straighten and eyebrows go up around the table at the mention of the Kings. “This is a chance to finally break away from Hector's grip,” he finishes.
Murmurs ripple through the room.
We've been trying to distance ourselves from Hector for years. His influence has been a constant pain in our ass.
“What's the deal?” Sparrow asks, leaning forward.
Viper outlines the proposal. “Movin’ merchandise through the Kings' territory, utilizing their connections. It's risky, but once Hector sees how much shit they can move, he’ll be ready to cut ties with us for good.”
“Fuck yeah,” Knox says, his sentiment matched by everyone in the room.
“This could be our ticket out,” Viper says, his eyes scanning the table. “But I need everyone on board. We do this smart, we do this right, and we can finally be free to run our club the way we want.”
The room falls silent. It's a big move, one that could change everything for us.
“All in favor?” Viper asks, raising his hand.
One by one, hands go up around the table.
It's unanimous.
“Thank fuck,” Viper nods, a hint of relief in his voice.
Back at the office, I find Braelynn organizing files. She looks up when I enter, her smile faltering slightly when she sees me.
“Everything okay?” she asks, setting down the folder she was holding.
I force a smile. “Yeah, just club shit. Nothing to worry about.”
She doesn't look convinced, but thankfully she doesn't push it.
Instead, she gestures to the neat stacks of papers on her desk. “I've been going through some of these old case files. If we can get past these initial hurdles with your parole, I really think we can make this work.” Her enthusiasm should make me happy, but all I feel is a gnawing sense of guilt.
Here she is, working her ass off to help me rebuild this business, and I'm potentially about to throw it all away by getting involved in some serious shit.
Climbing out of her chair, she moves across the room to me.
“You're amazing, you know that?” I admit, pulling her into my arms.
She laughs, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I have my moments. But seriously, I think I found a few leads on some old skips that might still be worth pursuing. Want to take a look?” I nod, grateful for the distraction.
As the day wears on, the weight of the club's potential new venture hangs heavy on my mind. I find myself checking my phone more often than usual, half-expecting a text from Viper or someone else signaling we’ve got trouble.
“Nico?” Braelynn's voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You've been staring at that same page for ten minutes. What's going on?”
I sigh, knowing I can't keep everything from her. “Just... club shit. It's complicated.”
Her brow furrows. “Complicated how?”
I shake my head. “I can't talk about it, baby. It’s club business, and as much as I know you don’t like it, you’re not going to know more about it.”
She nods, but I can see the hurt in her eyes. “I thought we were past keeping secrets from each other.”
My back goes up. “It's not fucking like that, Brae. Club shit will never be your shit. Got it?”
She flinches when I snap at her, and I feel like an asshole. “Fine.”
Going to her, I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t want to fight.”
“Promise me something,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Anything,” I reply without hesitation.
She lifts her face from my chest to look at me. “Promise me that whatever you’re doing, you'll be careful. That you won't do anything stupid or reckless. That you'll always come home to us.”
Fuck. I don’t deserve her. “I promise, baby. You and Ryder are my world now. I won't do anything to jeopardize that.” As I say the words, I send up a prayer to the gods that it’s a promise I can keep.