Chapter 8
Sitting in our usual booth at Benson’s Diner, I ignored the server as she dropped off our food. I left it to Connor, who started flirting with her as soon as we had walked in. She barely looked legal, so I frowned at him as he winked at her before she walked off, blushing from head to foot.
“You wanna cool it with that shit?”
“Ah, I’m just having fun,” he said, picking up his soda.
“She’s sixteen,” I muttered, picking up my knife and fork to eat.
Connor laughed again and shrugged. He was my other best friend, and I loved him enough to kill for him, which I intended to do as soon as I could.
Connor changed after the Kingsmen attack.
Something to do with the damage to the lobes in his brain.
His filter had vanished overnight. Mostly he was jovial and fun, but occasionally, he went dark and shut us all out, those were the times when we worried the most and either War or I stayed with him, even though he yelled and lashed out about us leaving him the hell alone.
We were both terrified he would do something to himself. The doctors told us suicidal tendencies could be an issue.
I couldn’t imagine that happening, but we were always on the lookout for any changes.
Connor had always been the joker, the light-hearted one of the group, more in touch with his feelings than me or War.
He wasn’t ashamed of that. He made everyone laugh, and even though that was still the way he acted, often it seemed forced, like he was acting the role of himself in a play.
We tried our best to keep things normal, even when he was in a black mood. He was our best friend, and we wouldn’t let anything happen to him. It was bad enough the Kingsmen had got to him.
It was one of the first incidents that alerted us the Kingsmen were sniffing around. They’d chased him down when he was coming back from the bar we owned in town.
Connor could hold his own. He was scrappy, but he was one of the smaller guys in the club, probably why they targeted him. They knocked him off his bike, beat him with bats, and he’d taken too many blows to his head, his helmet completely caved in causing a bleed on his brain.
The doctors put him in an induced coma, and it was three weeks before he woke up. But he wasn’t the same. It was really hard to wrap my head around and it devastated me when we learned the extent of the damage.
We were still trying to track down which of those assholes were responsible. It would happen, and when it did, there wouldn’t just be bats involved. And the fuckers wouldn’t be spending any time in hospital after it either.
I practically inhaled my food. I had had nothing since the rest stop on the way back from North Carolina, and that was just a reheated hot dog after I’d left War and Waverley to chat. The booze hadn’t helped, nor the memories on repeat in my head.
Or dealing with fucking Tanya. I could kill War for allowing her to stay and kicking out Gia. He’d just laughed when I complained about it, calling me a whiny little bitch. I had the headache from hell, but I didn’t mention that to Connor. He suffered with them constantly and never complained.
There was a slight tremor in his hand as he drank from his soda can, but neither of us mentioned it.
I’d picked him up from his doctor’s appointment.
He was coming back to the compound for the night.
He usually wanted to be around the guys after an appointment.
It wasn’t good for him to drink with his medication, but we didn’t want to stifle him, so let him drink in moderation.
He would have kicked up a shit storm if that hadn’t come directly from King. Casper and the other guys weren’t to serve him more than beer and only a couple of those at the most. It was the weed we had to worry about. He was smoking up a lot.
Usually he slept in the room Waverley was in at the compound. We needed to look at that.
The sound of pipes filled the air and Connor glanced up, needlessly saying, “War’s here.”
The three of us often had dinner here. When War came in, people noticed. I rolled my eyes as he strode to the booth and heads turned, woman drooled and tried to hide it. A few others clutched their purses because he was obviously going to snatch them. Fuck’s sake.
He shoved Connor over and sat down next to him.
“You’re late,” Connor said.
“Had a thing with King,” he said, looking around for a server. “Then I met with Cass.”
The young server hurried over and took his order. I gave Connor a look, telling him to keep his mouth shut. He grinned at me around a mouthful of food, but complied while War ordered.
“You gonna fill us in?” I asked.
War glanced off for a second, gathering his thoughts. It clearly had to do with the Kingsmen, and neither of us was sure how much to say in front of Connor.
Neither Connor nor I were officers in the club and some things King didn’t tell everyone. I waited, but Connor nudged War.
“He told us a bit about why Waverley needs to be here.”
“It’s about the Kingsmen?” Connor asked and War winced. “Come on, I’m not stupid. The bat to the head didn’t kill all the brain cells.”
War ran his tongue along his bottom lip before leaning his elbows against the table.
“So, our mom was the daughter of the old Kingsmen president. She ran when they tried to sell her as a sex worker.”
“What the fuck?” I breathed out, talk about not holding back.
War nodded, then told us what King told him and Waverley.
I was surprised, as War seemed to be, when he told us how King practically promised death to anyone who tried to come near his kids.
That he wanted to take them out for getting in our business sounded like King but not the declaration about his kids.
I was certain he loved War, and I knew letting Waverley go meant he loved her enough to give his daughter what she wanted. But he wasn’t the kind to show it.
“So, how is she?” Connor asked. “She knows about me? When can I see her?”
He sounded like an eager child spewing questions at War, but the hopeful look on his face was genuine. Connor had always been close to her. When they started getting all gossipy and sharing their feelings, War and I usually high-tailed it and left them to it.
He took his turn kicking my ass when they found out what I did the night Waverley left.
I never told them the real reason I did it.
Waverley hurt me first. I acted based on what she had done.
Admittedly, I went about it the wrong way, but I was drunk and heartbroken, and I lashed out in the only way I knew how.
“King’s got her locked up tight,” War told him. “She knows about the accident.”
“Accident,” Connor laughed, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Getting my brain spun around in my skull like a washing machine was no accident.”
I glanced at War, but he surreptitiously shook his head, telling me not to argue. I’d done that a lot at first. I didn’t like him depreciating what happened to him, but it only put him in a funk if we didn’t go along with it when he tried to make light of the situation.
“She was hanging out with the old ladies when I left, but she wants to see you too.”
“Good, let’s go,” Connor started to get up.
“Dude, I haven’t even got my food yet. Park your ass.”
Connor scowled but sat back down. Impatience and childlike tantrums were a side effect too. “War, you seen that server? Hud thinks she’s jailbait.” Jumping from one train of thought and mood to another with absolutely no segue way also afflicted him.
“Fuck man, she’s Bennie’s teenage granddaughter,” War told him. “You want a woman?” he asked, and I wasn’t surprised by the scowl on his face. But then it lightened, and he looked at me with a smirk. “I’m sure Tanya needs some consoling since this guy fucked and ducked.”
“Suck my ball sack,” I told him.
Connor laughed loudly, made an obscene hand gesture. “Gonna go out on a limb and say that was what got you into shit in the first place.”
“Get fucked.”
“Just not by Tanya,” War added with a laugh.
I gave them both death glares, but they kept on laughing at me. Fucking assholes.
I parked the truck by the garage and watched Connor get out and head for the old lady’s house.
War went straight inside the clubhouse. He’d met with our lawyer earlier and had some work to sort out from that.
I pocketed my keys and headed through the compound, past the house Connor had disappeared into and through a small patch of trees before coming to the Shed, which was what we nicknamed the cells.
Ballistic text me as we were leaving the diner, telling me to meet him here.
I wasn’t sure who he had, but I looked forward to finding out.
I was in that kind of mood. The headache had abated after the food and two glasses of water, and I’d crunched down a couple of Advil on the way back, but I still felt shit and needed an outlet.
I didn’t run across anyone on the way, which I was grateful for. It was quiet at this end of the compound and a decent walk away from the houses. The shed had been soundproofed, but you could never be too careful. No one wanted anyone hearing the sounds that invariably came from here.
Using a key on the chain at my hip, I unlocked the heavy steel door and headed inside. I could hear some shuffling and moaning coming from beyond the cells in the big open tiled room at the end. The cells were currently all empty.
Beyond the room where all business was conducted was a large area that reminded me of a morgue. Technically, it was. It was where things got ‘cleaned up’ before they were transported elsewhere, when necessary.
Inside the room, Hammer stood in the corner, arms folded, looking bored.
He was the club Reaper and was called in when the unlucky person who found themselves here would never leave on two legs.
Not that most people left here of their own volition.
It was serious shit when they found themselves in the Shed.