Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
JINX
“Why don’t you want to do it?”
Chaos leans back on his seat, one arm draped on the table as he fidgets with the warm pastry Vanessa brought him. “I didn’t say I don’t want to—”
“But you clammed up pretty fast when Circus brought their name up in Church.”
The Fallen Aces are our best bet at getting ahead of this conflict with the Devil’s Breed.
The decades-old history the Aces have with the club means they understand the assholes best when it comes to knowing how they operate in a war.
Not that I want to admit that’s where we head, but from the whispers that circulate past Circus and Loki’s ears this last week, all indicators point toward the rival club gearing up to move in uninvited.
With no intention of leaving.
“Look,” Chaos says. “I was damn impressed by what King built with his club when we visited the other month, but they’re huge compared to us. Their roots go back twice as far as ours do. They’ve been at this game a lot longer.”
“And you’re worried you’ll get egg on your face by asking them to help?” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “Fuck, man. You can’t put pride into this decision.”
“Can’t I?” His piercing gaze finds mine.
I stare him down. “No. You can’t.”
He glances away, studying the plants behind me.
“What has Loki come back with?”
Chaos drops his hand, rapping his knuckles against the leg of his chair. “The Breed have been back in town as we suspected. They made a quick stop last Thursday. His contact said they ran as many cages as they did bikes.”
“You don’t think…” Fuck. I hope not.
“Yeah.” He meets my eye. “I do. I reckon they moved stock over our lines, even now that we've got the Sheriff sniffing around. Fuckers don’t seem to care.”
“This shit is so fucked up.” I slump against the chair and look away, catching my reflection in the mirror nestled amongst the greenery.
What I find rattles me more than what Chaos just said.
Lines creep in around my eyes and mouth—age showing its hand.
But it’s not the idea of growing older that frightens me.
It’s the idea of becoming him. I spot the similarities in the downturn of my mouth, the darkened skin beneath my eyes.
The longer I sit at the officer’s table, the more like my father I become.
Jaded. Angry. Frustrated. Bitter at the world.
I swore I’d never be him, and yet despite my best efforts, genetics has better ideas.
I’ve already ensured I’ll be alone in my old age—why not embrace the rest?
“We can’t ignore this,” Chaos says, pulling me back into the conversation.
“I know we can’t.”
“It’ll get ugly before there’s any glimpse of a resolution. We ask our people to walk into dark times without there being an obvious way out.”
“They knew the risks when they signed up.” Go ahead and parrot him, why don’t you? Really drawing on the Mongrel vibes there, Jinxy boy.
Chaos rolls his jaw left and right. “They did know. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling as though it’s my responsibility to protect them from harm.”
I study my friend. His hesitation was apparent in his furrowed brow and avoidant gaze.
Chaos fidgets with the empty side plate before him, nostrils flaring every so often as he mulls over the situation.
The circumstances that put him at the head of the table were horrific enough that most people wouldn’t still be standing, let alone placing the needs of others over their own.
And yet, here he is, with a sense of duty to the Kings that I don’t think I’ve witnessed in anyone else.
Except my father.
They aren’t just a member of the Kings of Anarchy; the Kings are them. So ingrained in who they are, I don’t think Chaos will ever escape it.
Still, we’ve managed to keep disturbances to a minimum since we took office.
Managed to steer the club in a more legitimate direction than our fathers and therefore mitigated the influence of people with far less morals than we have.
Chaos has never had to head up a war. Never had to be the general and never had to make the hard calls when it came to things that not only affect our members’ lives, but their life.
“If you’re worried that bringing in the Fallen Aces will show you up, make you look incompetent, you can get that fucking thought out of your head right now.
” I lean forward, elbows on the table. ”Everybody has to learn the hard way how to lead when clubs are at war.
But I know I’d much rather have the mentorship of people much more experienced than we are than trying to fuck it up alone. ”
“You think we’re not capable?” Chaos asks.
“I think we’d be fools not to have the extra knowledge at the table about who we’re facing.”
“We could get that from our own.” He taps his fingers on the table beside the plate. “I’ve spoken to Iowa. They’re sandwiched right between the Devil’s Breed and us. They’ve rubbed against them plenty enough, so they’re ready to back us up.”
“They’re good people.” I flick the message on my phone open even though I don’t need to read it. “Highway finished inventory of our arsenal this morning. I’ve sent him with a shopping list to fill in the gaps.”
“Good.”
“Any news on these girls Matthias mentioned?”
He remains quiet for a while, fingertip circling the rim of the plate to the point I resist the urge to pick the fucking thing up and hurl it across the room.
“Knowing they’re almost guaranteed to be here, but not knowing where is doing my fucking head in.
” He huffs out his nose. “I’ve asked Darko to set up some trail cams in the blind spots around town to figure out where these convoys are going—assuming they’ll be back again. ”
“They will.”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “They’re like a goddamn disease, these fuckers. You get rid of them in one place, and they pop up in another, and if you’re not careful, they fucking spread like wildfire.
“Have you heard from Smoke?” If he has, he’s kept the conversation to himself. I find it strange that the Devil’s Breed president didn’t reach out after we sent their crew home with one missing.
Chaos draws a deep, shuddering breath. “I did. But he didn’t say much, direct or indirect, so I didn’t see the point in discussing it.”
“Didn’t say much, huh?” The guy’s notorious for running his mouth.
Chaos meets my disbelieving stare. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He smirks.
Right. In other words, Smoke threatened his family and the club, promised to fuck everyone up, and then hung up.
“What have you got out of Kyra?” he asks suddenly. “You haven’t said a thing about her since the run-in in the alley.”
“We’ve been busy at the club, so I haven’t had time to talk with her.” I drop my gaze to my leg and pick at a hard spot on the denim where I once spilled quick-set glue.
“Flinch told me she stayed the night with you after.”
Smarmy asshole. I can feel his shit-stirring grin grate against the side of my face. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a surprised look. “She left super early, so I don’t know if I’d call it staying the night.”
“She was still inside your room longer than anyone other than Dolly has been for some time.”
I raise my eyebrow at his mention of our cleaner. “Keep a timesheet on my door, do you?”
Fucker smiles. “Keep an eye on my best friend, actually.” He leans back, lifting his chin before asking, “What is going on between you and the Sheriff’s daughter?”
“Nothing.” And I can say that with a straight goddamn face, because thanks to me, it’s true.
Painfully true.
“Must be why you’re such a grumpy asshole again.”
I lift my middle finger.
“You still know me the best,” he muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table.
“Of course I fucking do.” We were raised side-by-side, put through the same trials, and experienced the same trauma. We’re two parts of a whole.
“And yet you don’t know fuck all about yourself.”
“Pardon the fuck me?” I stiffen in my seat, arms folded.
“She makes you happy.” He narrows his gaze and twists his lips like the fucker he is, knowing he has me pinned. “I picked it the minute you fell out because you’re whole…” He waves a hand up and down, gesturing to me. “Became you again. Snippy like a woman on her rag.”
“You sure we’re best friends?” I say.
He leans back to set an elbow on the back of the chair, eyes still sparkling with mischief as he studies me. “What did it? Her old man?”
“Yes and no.”
He tilts his head.
“I ain’t telling you shit. So you can quit your meddling this minute.”
Chaos nods. “Don’t fuck it up for yourself, Jinx. You know, moments of happiness are fucking rare for people like us. Finding someone who gives those to you is like stumbling across the end of the rainbow.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Don’t worry about me, boss. Worry about what we’ve got to do.”
“Worrying about you gives me a break from that shit.”
“What does Vanessa say about Circus’s suggestion?” Yeah, I’m well aware he tells her way more than he should. But I get it.
I’ve got my old man to bounce ideas off if I need an outside perspective. He doesn’t.
“She thinks I should at least make them aware of what’s going on so it’s not a surprise if I do decide to ask for reinforcement.”
“She’s a smart woman.”
“That she is.” His gaze lifts to the front of the shop where she currently works. “The thought of her getting tangled up in this scares me, Jinx. I don’t like feeling vulnerable.”
“Congratulations,” I tease. “You’ve finally proved you’re human.”
He gives me a brief, wry smile before slipping back into his dark mood. “Life was so much easier when weed was illegal, don’t you think?”
“Change is always hard.”
“Rich coming from you,” he taunts.
He does know me best. My life has been so goddamn routine that the years all blend into one, and time seems to slip by a hell of a lot faster than I’d like.
It’s not that I don’t want to change. It’s that I don’t know how.
And yeah, maybe I’m a little scared too.
Scared of steering myself into a life I don’t recognize, down a path that I don’t know.
Scared of losing the control that routine and familiarity give me.
“What’s next?” I ask, hoping to wrap up this deep dive into my inner psyche.
“Guess you better go find your girl and set things right,” Chaos says. “I want to know what her old man plans to do about the Breed. What’s he cooking up that we don’t know about, and how’s it going to get in our fuckin’ way when we need it least?”
There’s no denying the thrill that courses through me at the thought of seeing Kyra again, but knowing resolution is purely club-related? The feeling quickly sours, turning the coffee in my stomach.
”Sure.” I push the near-empty mug to the center of the table and rise from my seat. “Shouldn’t be hard.”
“With the way she looks at you,” Chaos retorts. “It should be a breeze.”