Chapter Four
Max
“Max, did you order the patches for the newest members?”
Spike asks, his voice carrying easily over the hum of conversation around us.
“I did,”
I say with a short nod.
“Two prospects moving up to members, and five hang-arounds earning their prospect shirts.”
Spike grunts his approval, already moving on to the next detail, but I catch the weight of it. The club keeps growing, shifting, pulling in fresh blood. And here I am, still trying to remember how to breathe in the skin of a brother I’m not sure I deserve to be anymore.
“Maverick, do you still have contact with that donut-eating, badge-wearing, law-abiding pain in my ass?”
Skip asks, grinning as he leans back in his chair.
Maverick shakes his head, though there’s the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, Skip. Cooper’s a friend. I talk with him often. Why is he a pain in your ass?”
“Fucker pulled me over last week because I was going a tad bit over the speed limit,”
Skip says.
“Even tried using your name to get out of it. When that didn’t work, I tried to pay my way out of the ticket, and when that didn’t work, I offered to fuck him.”
“And when that didn’t work?”
Foster asks, grinning.
“Who says it didn’t work?”
Skip shoots back, his grin wide and shameless.
“Anyway, he let me off with a warning. Told me if I wanted to keep my bike, I should try driving it like I didn’t steal it.”
The table roars with laughter. Knuckles shakes his head, muttering about Skip’s mouth writing checks his ass can’t cash. Even Crusher cracks a rare smile, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the wood like he’s keeping time with the noise.
Maverick only snorts.
“You’re lucky Cooper didn’t haul your ass straight to the station. He’s got patience, but not enough for you.”
“Patience?”
Skip chuckles.
“Pretty sure that’s not what he was showing me. More like begging…pleading.”
The laughter grows louder, easy and unbothered, the kind that comes from men who know exactly where they stand in the circle.
I laugh, too, because it’s expected, because that’s what brothers do. But the sound feels off in my throat, hollow and thin.
On the outside, I’m one of them.
On the inside, I’m still the traitor they thought I was.
“I need someone to lead the run next week,”
Spike says, his tone all business.
“Weapons are cleaned and ready to go. Nothing out of the ordinary. Same buyer we’ve dealt with for years.”
“I’ll do it,”
I offer without hesitation.
Spike’s eyes narrow.
“You’ve been on the last seven runs, brother. Take some time off. Let someone else handle this one.”
The words land heavier than they should. Is he saying that because he doesn’t trust me to lead anymore? I wouldn’t blame him if he was. While I never betrayed him, I did steal information to pay off my mother’s debts. A sin that still hangs around my neck like a chain. Truth is, if I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either.
“Ain’t got nothing better to do, brother,”
I admit with a shrug, keeping my voice casual.
Spike studies me for a long moment before moving on, but the damage is already done. His doubt…or maybe just my own guilt…lingers long after the conversation shifts.