• Seven •
· Seven ·
“It isn’t like she’s committing a crime.”
Storm
Sunday lunch was always loud. Maeme made a spread of food, and whoever could be there in the family came to eat. Her long dining room table was full, along with the table in the kitchen and the seats at the bar. Several of us hadn’t been to bed in over twenty-eight hours, yet we had shown up for the meal.
The money Jameson had owed us was collected, and he was sent away, beaten with a warning, which surprised me. I’d thought Stellan would kill him.
His decision had been made because Jameson hadn’t actually shot at one of us and Briar Landry wasn’t ours to protect. Then, there was the fact that his death wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. We’d have had to clean that up, and it would have taken a lot of strings to have it swept under the rug. Some that Stellan hadn’t felt was worth wasting our time on.
I’d be lying if I said my thoughts hadn’t kept going to Briar and her safety. I didn’t want to give a fuck, but there was a solid chance he’d go after her again. Even though I’d made it very clear to him that she had nothing to do with us.
My vehemence that she’d been innocent in all of it though might have been a little too intense. Either Jameson would fear for his life if he went after her or he would be livid, believing she had hooked up with me and I was protecting her. I felt like I should at least warn her that he was alive. She didn’t need him showing up, unannounced.
When Mandilyn, Stellan’s wife, followed my mother out of the dining room, he looked at Maeme, who was the only woman left at the table. King; his father, Ronan; Wells, who had been my best friend, growing up; and his father, Roland, also remained. Thatcher sat to the right of his father, and Sebastian was in the kitchen, talking to the oldest of my two younger sisters, Lela.
Although most of us were not related by blood, we were something more than that. Our families went back generations inside what we referred to as the family. In the Georgia branch of the family, we were made up of four families. The Shephards, the Salazars, the Joneses, and of course my family, the Kingstons. Some of our extended family bled into other branches. For example, my first cousin, Huck, was the boss’s main protection in Ocala, Florida. Huck’s father had been my dad’s brother, but he’d been killed years ago. Then, Stellan’s brother was over at the Mississippi branch while his son, Levi, worked directly for the boss in Ocala. Once you were locked into the family, you never left.
“You went to Briar Landry’s apartment yesterday morning,” Stellan said to Maeme.
That caught my attention, and I stopped the spoonful of peanut butter pie I was about to put in my mouth to swing my gaze over to Maeme. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was looking at Stellan as if he had asked her a question that was none of his business.
“And?” she replied.
Stellan leaned back in his chair and sighed. “No need to get snippy with me. I was just curious as to why you felt you needed to get her lease canceled.”
Maeme placed her glass of sweet tea back on the table beside her plate. “We don’t discuss business at my dinner table. You know the rules.”
Only Maeme got away with talking to Stellan as if he wasn’t in charge of all that went on in the Georgia branch.
“Briar Landry isn’t business. Not ours at least. But you went to her place, and I would like to know why you involved yourself in her personal life.”
Maeme straightened her back, which was normally a warning that she was not happy. She glared at Stellan. “The girl had been shot at because of us. I wanted to make sure she was okay and take her some food. As for her lease, the bastard who’d shot her might go back to finish the job. I just made sure she was free to go if she wanted to. I wasn’t aware it was information I needed to run by you.”
Stellan would have been in one of our faces if we’d spoken to him like that. But with Maeme, he looked mildly frustrated. As if this was a pointless and exhausting conversation he wished he hadn’t started. “Fine. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Maeme stood up then, taking her empty plate as she did so. “Someone needed to check on her. You all believe she’s a gold-digging tramp. It took me five minutes in her presence to read her. She’s not what she seems, but she wants everyone to think so. It isn’t like she’s committing a crime.”
Stellan held up a hand. “So, you don’t think she’s a gold digger then? What is she, Maeme?”
Maeme’s eyes cut to me briefly before she looked back at Stellan. “A fighter. A damn good one. And the fight that is in her is fueled by something stronger than the dollar.” She started to head in the direction of the door.
“She has affairs with rich men, then makes them pay her to keep her mouth shut. What else are we supposed to think?” Stellan called out.
“Judging a book by its cover, Stellan? You’re too old to be that stupid,” she replied, then walked out.
Stellan rolled his eyes. “She’s found herself another fucking stray. Better hide the silver if she intends to bring this one home too.”
“If she brings Briar here, I will keep her busy,” Thatcher said with a smirk.
“She’s not coming here. She refused to stay one night. My guess is, she’s already packed up and run again,” I replied, trying not to scowl at Thatcher.
“She’s not left town yet. I’d know if she had,” King told us as he stood up.
“You still keeping tabs on her?” Roland asked.
He nodded. “Until I’m sure she isn’t lying about killing that son of a bitch.”
“She killed him,” Thatcher drawled. “It’s in her eyes. The demons that come with it.”
“What the hell do you know about seeing shit in people’s eyes?” Wells asked, amused.
Thatcher’s gaze swung to him. “Enough to know you’re a goddamn pussy.”
“Boys.” Stellan’s firm voice stopped whatever else Thatcher was about to say. “It’s Sunday. We’ve had a busy weekend. Let it go.”
Everyone knew he was saving Wells’s ass. Thatcher had never been a fan of Wells, but he’d managed not to kill him over the years.
Ronan leaned over to say something to Stellan, and the rest of the room seemed to calm. King left to go find Rumor, who had taken their baby girl to nurse earlier. Thatcher followed him out, but I knew he was leaving the house.
The conversation about Briar was over, but I was still thinking about it. I hoped she was gone. Away from Jameson. Not that it was my job to warn her, but someone needed to.
Standing, I followed Thatcher’s exit. I didn’t like Briar Landry, but that didn’t mean I wanted her dead. She deserved to know the man who had tried to kill her was alive. After that, she was on her own.