Chapter 7 #2
"Well, this just got interesting." I take a swig of my beer, settling in for whatever bomb she's about to drop.
Dad reaches over and smacks the back of my head—not hard, but sharp enough to sting.
"Fuck." I rub the spot, glaring at him. My dad is the only person who could get away with that.
"As I was saying," Grace starts again, shooting me a look, "I was wondering if Damián can come to Sunday dinner this week."
She spits it out fast, words running together because she knows the answer might be no.
Something happened between Damián and my dad besides him kidnapping her, because he's still holding a grudge. Damián said or did something I don't know about. Every time his name comes up, Dad's jaw tightens in that specific way that means violence is an option he's considering.
Dad groans, long and suffering.
Grace launches into a whole spiel about them getting married and he's family now, about how the club needs stronger ties with the cartel, about how holding grudges doesn't help anyone. Her hands move as she talks, animated and earnest, trying to convince him with pure force of will.
Look, I was ready to kill Damián myself when he abducted Grace to cover our debt over a shipment that was seized.
Would've done it too if I'd gotten to her first. But shit happened between the two of them, and for reasons I don't understand, she loves him.
He's fucking crazy—the kind of crazy that makes my violence look like playground shit—but I can tell he loves her too.
Men like him rarely fall in love, so I know he'll protect her and treat her right.
All of that to say, I forgave him. But our dad has not.
"Fine," Dad finally says, the word dragged out of him like it costs something.
"Thank you!" Grace squeals and throws herself at him, arms wrapping around his middle in a hug that makes him set his whiskey down so he doesn't spill it.
"Yeah, yeah." He pats her back awkwardly, but there's softness in his face that only she brings out.
"Well, my work here is done." She steps back with a big smile, looking between us like she just won the lottery.
Dad and I look at each other, both knowing we've been bested again. She's getting too good at this—wrapping us around her finger without us even realizing it's happening until it's done.
"Well, I'll leave ya'll to it." She grabs her purse from the bar, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'm sure Fernando is more than ready to leave."
"Where is he?" I ask, glancing toward the door.
"Waiting in the car. He knows I'm safe in here."
I nod. Fernando's smart enough not to push boundaries with the clubhouse. Grace is untouchable here, and everyone knows it.
"Well, I'll see y'all Sunday." She pauses at the door, turning back with that dangerous smile. "And if you need help buying a suit, let me know if you have free time next week while Damián's gone."
I groan, hating the idea of a suit and even more than that, the idea of shopping. "I'll figure it out."
"Mmhmm." She doesn't believe me for a second. "Love you both!"
The door swings shut behind her, leaving me and Dad in the quiet bar with just the jukebox playing low.
"You're fucked," Dad says, raising his whiskey in salute.
"Tell me about it." I drain half my beer in one go. "A fucking gala. With ángel and his political friends."
"Could be worse." Dad moves around the bar, settling onto the stool Grace vacated. "Could be the wedding."
I shudder at the thought. "One suit is enough trauma for the year."
Dad chuckles, the sound rough but genuine. "She's got us both wrapped around her finger."
"Yeah." I pick at the label on my beer bottle. "But that's what big brothers are for, right?"
"And fathers." Dad's quiet for a moment, staring into his whiskey. "Even the ones who showed up late to the job." He says and I shake my head.
“You didn’t know”
The jukebox switches tracks—something old and bluesy I don't recognize.
"So what are you doing here anyway?" Dad asks, turning his glass in slow circles on the counter.
Well, shit. I came to ask for more responsibilities, but now I'm too tired. "I need to get home. Got an early morning, you know, since you won't let me quit school."
"You quit school and you're done." Dad's voice goes flat, no negotiation in it.
"I know, I know." I've heard this speech enough times to recite it in my sleep.
"Remember, the only reason you're a prospect is because your sister was kidnapped." He pins me with that stare that sees through bullshit. "You could still be waiting."
It's true. He let me jump the gun on all of it when Grace was taken—he gave me his blessing. Everything accelerated when she got dragged into this world.
"I know, but just think about it. I can be far more useful." I down the rest of my beer in one long pull and shoot the empty bottle toward the trashcan behind the bar.
It shatters when it hits the other bottles inside, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet space.
"I'll think about it," Dad says.
"Thanks." I slide off the stool. "I'm out."
"See you Sunday."
I walk out back and pull my phone from my pocket, thumbs moving quick across the screen.
Me: Heading to my bike now
Spider: brT
I pocket the phone and walk around to the front where my bike sits waiting, chrome catching the parking lot lights. A few minutes pass, the night air cool against my face, before Spider appears from inside carrying a small package.
"Thanks." I take it from him and tuck it into my saddlebag, securing the latch. "So what's up with Sevyn?"
Spider freezes mid-step. "What?"
"I know that story you gave Grace was a load of shit."
He scrubs his hand down his face, looking suddenly exhausted. "If you promise to be cool, I'll tell you."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because it's Grace," he says.
"Just spit it out."
Spider's quiet for a long moment, jaw working like he's chewing over how to say it. "He's all in love with her and shit, and he's pissed she's with Damián."
"Shit." The word comes out flat. "I had no idea."
"I'm the only one who knows." Spider leans against my bike, arms crossed over his chest. "We didn't want to make a move and piss Walker off."
Something catches in his phrasing. "Huh." I replay the words in my head. "We?"
"Fuck." Spider looks away, toward the compound gates.
"We?" I repeat, voice harder now.
"Yeah, I mean, we share."
"You wanted to share my sister?" My voice rises as I step closer, hands already curling into fists. "What the fuck, man?"
"Not like you're thinking." Spider holds his ground but there's something defensive in his posture now. "We fuck women separately all the time, but we share when it's more than that. When we both like them. And we like Grace. Really like her."
"Well, as sweet as that sounds and all, I think I'd rather her with her psychotic cartel prince than the two of you passing her around like a piece of meat."
"She's not a piece of meat." Spider's voice goes sharp. "She's special."
"But yeah, I understand where you're coming from," he adds after a beat, some of the fight draining out of him.
"Well, hopefully he gets over it soon because they're planning the wedding." I swing my leg over my bike, settling into the familiar seat.
"He just needs time," Spider says.
I nod and reach for the ignition. "Well, I'm out."
"Actually—" Spider straightens. "Are you free tomorrow night? We need some extra hands."
"Yeah, I'm down." I start the engine, the rumble vibrating through me. "Just text me when and where to meet you."
"Will do."
Spider walks off toward the clubhouse, and I kick the bike into gear. The ride home is quick, streets mostly empty this time of night, wind cutting through my jacket as I push the speed higher.
My mind keeps circling back to Sevyn. To Spider's words: We like Grace. Really like her.
Fuck.
This whole situation is more complicated than I thought.