11. Brute
Brute
T he light in Finleigh’s eyes hasn’t ignited, not like the night we met her, but she’s not as wary as when we reconnected with her in the hospital again.
The tension that clenched her jaw every day since is missing, though, and she’s curious instead of observant and fearful since we brought her back to the clubhouse.
Her steps don’t falter as I rest a hand on her waist and lead her to the bar where my dad and his wife, Candy, are sitting. I’m hoping that means she’s growing comfortable here.
“Pops, Candy,” I call out, and they turn around. Pops, with a permanent scowl on his weathered face, but Candy offers the smile and welcoming that I knew she would.
“You must be Finleigh!” She’s on her feet and about to yank Fin in for a hug when I shake my head. “Right, sorry, forgot about all the injuries. It sure is a pleasure to meet you, honey. I’ve been waiting on this one to give me grandbabies for years.”
“Nice to meet ya, girl.” Pops' eyes roam over her injuries. He’s had more than his share of them over the years.
“Nice to meet you both as well. I’d offer a hand, but, well, I can’t.” The sobering comment droops Candy’s smile, but she recovers quickly.
“Come on, Finleigh, let's grab some drinks and food, and I’ll introduce you around a bit while the boys talk shop.” Candy offers Fin an arm, but she hesitates.
“Go on, I’ll be in my office. Axl is out back with the prospects and Priest.” Eventually, she slips her casted arm through Candy’s.
Watching them move towards the club girls, a pinch of concern twists my guts, but Candy won’t allow them to be cruel to Finleigh. For the most part, the girls aren’t territorial. They know the deal.
“You settling down with that girl, Brute?” Pops asks as soon as the office door closes. “’Cause if you are, you need to make it clear, sooner than later, or the boys will expect a round with her.”
My hackles rise at the threat. “Anyone touches her, and they’re fucking dead.” The warning is clear as I spin around to face the man who sired me.
“Then get your shit sorted.” He points a finger at me before dropping onto the couch under the window that faces into the club.
“We aren’t in the nineties, where you share every girl who comes through these doors,” I remind him. I know the men under my rule, they’re too fucking territorial to share a woman they have an ounce of care for. We might be killers, but we’re not monsters.
“Yeah, well, I seen the way some of them were eyeing her up,” he smirks.
Pounding a fist on the desk, I give the man a warning look to shut the hell up because I won’t hesitate to fucking end him if necessary. “They know she’s off limits. The question is, do you?”
He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Candy would feed me my dick for breakfast if I even looked.”
“Then shut the fuck up.” Snapping at him isn’t something I usually do, but the occasion calls for it. “What do you need to talk about?”
“You’re still paused.” He raises a brow.
“I’m aware.” Other things are going on that he isn’t informed about as a retired member.
“So is Axl,” he points out. After accepting the job that took him out of town until today, Axl put a pause on his services as well.
“Aware of that too.” Sitting down, I prop my booted feet up on the mostly empty desk.
“When are you guys going to be available again?”
“When we feel like it.” He might run the app, but that’s all. “You got an important client or something, Pops?” Dropping my feet, I lean forward as he casually shrugs.
“Been getting some requests is all.”
I narrow my eyes, not appreciating his elusiveness. “Spit it out, or I’ll place everyone on pause.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Sure as hell can. I’m president, I’ll do whatever the fuck I like.” Without hesitation or remorse.
“Fuck.” Lighting a smoke, he takes a few drags, then finally comes clean. “There’s a request for you. Did some digging because of the money being offered, and discovered the target is the mayor of Jackson.”
Whistling, I wonder if it’s linked to Finleigh, given the number of connections we’ve found towards the mayor’s aide.
“The answer is no.”
There are not many people I give a fuck about, and certainly not a politician, but I’m smart enough to know the manhunt for the murder of a mostly beloved mayor is a bad fucking idea.
“It’s a million bucks, son.”
“Still no.” I’m not stupid.
“You’ll regret this.” He storms out and stomps through the warehouse, yelling for Candy, who is nowhere in sight.
“What’s got his feathers in a ruffle?” Viking stands in my doorway, arms crossed, watching my dad grab a bottle of whiskey and chug it before slamming it on the bartop.
“Wants me to take a job about the mayor.” Viking’s reaction is as visceral as my own. “Pretty much what I said.”
“He’s not going to let this go. You know that, right?” I nod. “Your girl is outside sitting on Axl’s bike, looking mighty fine. You locked her down yet?”
“Once she remembers,” I respond. There are too many unanswered questions for her.
“What if she never does?”
Viking leaves without waiting for my response. A good fucking question that I don’t have an answer for. Not yet. Not until the threat against her has been eliminated.
Before properly claiming Finleigh and the baby, we need to ensure her safety.