Chapter 25
Things were a bit tense after Tuesday night. I wished I could be an actual angel, following Pistol to work the next day. Not to protect him. He didn’t need that from me—but to be there as a calming presence.
Riley slept fitfully that night. While I wasn’t usually a light sleeper, his restlessness made me anxious, so I didn’t sleep much better.
It spoke volumes that he could kill a man—an act he didn’t commit casually—then sleep soundly, without a haunting nightmare to speak of.
But a fight with his brothers was his undoing.
Given the way we left the clubhouse, I wasn’t sure how many of the Stallions in that room were on his side. I hoped, even if they would have chosen differently, they could try to see things from his perspective.
When I got home after my late shift the following night to find him on the floor, propped up against the couch, with Reaper snuggled up against his side, I somehow understood it had been a tough day.
Rather than ask him about it, I grabbed what was left of my gelato along with a couple of spoons and joined the two of them on the floor.
We watched three episodes of Master Chef before we went to bed.
I woke up alone Thursday morning—a breakfast burrito waiting for me in the kitchen. It felt so normal, and I hoped it was a sign of a brighter day.
Though, when we were starting from pitch black, that wasn’t saying much.
Things at the diner, while not tense, were strange.
Rusty was no longer merely the bartender on staff; he was the Stallion muscle on every shift, indefinitely.
Viv was leaning on all of her wait staff to cover for Max.
Given how much time off she let me have over the previous month, I was quick to volunteer any free time I had until the situation was resolved.
This was how I found myself working a double on Thursday.
When Joker showed up—like he did the day before, and the day before that—it was hardly a surprise.
My stomach twisted itself into a knot at the sight of him.
Not because I was nervous, but because it was hard not to feel anxious around any Copper King, given what I now knew.
What he was capable of, what they were all capable of, went beyond the tolerable.
There were outlaws and there were monsters.
In the world I knew, it wasn’t as simple as good guys and bad guys; right and wrong; crime and justice.
Everyone played by their own rules. Fortunately for me, I landed amongst men who lived by a code that made sense to me.
The Stallions weren’t law abiding citizens.
They colored outside the lines, but they were a family above everything.
They loved as hard as they fought. And everything they did pointed to their purpose.
But the Kings?
They lacked purpose.
They lacked a moral code.
They were corrupt.
It ate me up inside knowing my brother was one of them.
And when I saw Carmine walk in behind Joker, I felt gutted.
Joker didn’t wait to be seated but went straight for a vacant table in the center of the diner. Much as I didn’t want to, when Carmy slid into the booth on the opposite side, I knew that was my cue to greet them.
Carmy never let anyone serve him except for me.
“Where’s Max?” asked Joker, not bothering to look at me as he peered around the restaurant.
“Not in today. Are you two going to eat or just take up a table for the rest of the day?”
I knew better than to be snide with the diner’s guests, but I couldn’t help it. These two weren’t welcome.
“Nah. Not hungry,” said Joker, sounding annoyed.
“I’ll have a coke,” replied Carmine.
For the first time in my life, I felt hatred—pure and unadulterated hatred—toward him.
I didn’t say a word as I went to fetch him his drink.
When I returned to the table, I resisted the urge to spill the whole thing into his lap, set it in front of him, and left as quickly as I came.
I wasn’t sure how long they’d stay. With Max gone, they didn’t stay for hours the previous day, but their visit was longer than the ten minutes Carmine usually had.
Either way, I was planning to avoid their table as best I could.
If my brother wanted a refill, he could go to the McDonald’s down the street.
Thirty minutes later, my hands full of a couple empty dishes from a recently vacated table, I was making my way back to the kitchen when Carmy intersected me. I couldn’t even step around him as he grabbed my arm and squeezed hard. “Put the plates down. Now,” he demanded. “We’re gonna talk.”
“Let me go,” I snapped in an angry whisper, yanking my elbow away from him.
His grip only tightened.
“You think just because you’re married to one of them you don’t have to answer to me? Think again. Put em down. Now.”
I glared up at him, feeling bewildered, pissed, and a little scared.
My instincts, trained as they were when it came to my brother, told me not to make a scene.
Instead, I nodded, waited for him to let me go, then put the plates down next to his empty cup.
Even though I was doing what he asked, as soon as my hands were free, he had hold of my arm again as he dragged me outside.
He didn’t take me far, and I was still in view of the window, when he got in my face and hissed, “Joker can’t read lips, but he can read faces. Look pissed, look scared, look like you’re ready to hit me in the face, but Lyla, don’t you dare looked surprised.”
I drew my eyebrows into a scowl of confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“By now I’m sure you get the picture they’re after Max. I can’t stop it this time. This whole mess started with her, and they’re determined to make sure it ends with her. She might be hiding now, but she will be found—and it might not be a King who finds her.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“Pissed, Lyla—you’re fuckin’ pissed, remember?”
“You’re right!” I yelled, getting into his face. “I am! You’re one of them!”
“That’s it. Hold onto that,” he replied, not missing a beat. “They don’t find her in the next twenty-four, they got a bounty hunter hired out to find her. It’s like I said—I can’t stop it this time.”
He practically shoved me away, causing me to lose my footing.
I caught myself as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, whistled loudly, and headed for his hog.
I was still trying to make sense of the last two minutes when Joker strutted out of the diner, giving me a long look as he trailed after Carmy.
I wasn’t sure what my face said, but I sure as hell knew I didn’t understand what was going on.
‘I can’t stop it this time.’
This time.
This time.
Did that mean he stopped it before?
“Hey.”
I was pulled from my thoughts at the sound of Rusty’s voice. I looked over just as he and Viv came out to join me on the sidewalk.
“You okay? What was that about?”
I shook my head, still at a loss for words, then gasped at the sound of two Harley’s barreling out of the parking lot. I turned to watch them go, my brother’s words still playing on a loop in my mind.
‘I can’t stop it this time.’
‘They don’t find her in the next twenty-four, they got a bounty hunter hired out to find her.’
“Lyla?” called Viv.
There was a part of me that desperately wanted to run for my car and peel out of there, intent on catching up with Carmy.
I wanted to understand. I needed to know what he meant—whose side he was on.
But, like the rest of life, it was too much all at once.
I didn’t have time to chase after my brother. He’d delivered a message.
I looked from Rusty to Viv and back again, sure as soon as they heard what I was about to say, they’d call Nighthawk.
With the president and his enforcer at odds, I wasn’t sure if Riley would get read in right away—but he deserved to know as much as anyone.
After everything he did for Max, I was sure he would want to hear this.
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and immediately brought up his contact information. Before either Viv or Rusty could question me, I initiated a call, putting it on speaker as it rang.
Riley answered after the second ring.
“Angel, you good?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m fine. Listen, I have you here on speaker with Viv and Rusty,” I began, my eyes now locked with Viv’s.
“Carmy was just here. I don’t really understand why he told me, but he said they’re after Max.
He said this whole thing started with her and they want it to end with her.
He said if the Kings don’t find her in the next twenty-four hours, they’ve hired a bounty hunter. ”
“Fuckin’ hell,” grumbled Rusty. He didn’t stay to listen to the rest, his phone out as he jogged to his hog on the far side of the parking lot.
“What else? What else did he say?” asked Viv, her voice steady but her eyes flashing with a fear I’d never seen before.
“Nothing. He said he couldn’t stop it this time and then he was gone.”
Now it was Viv who reached for her phone. I watched as she initiated a call of her own before bringing the device to her ear. The relief I saw wash across her face a second later said it all.
“Max, honey, who’s with you? Put him on the phone.”
“Baby? Baby—take me off speaker.”
It took me a second to register Riley’s demand, but I did what I was told, turning away slightly as I brought him to my ear.
“Okay.”
“What did he mean when he said he couldn’t stop it this time?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, wishing my answer was different. “He was acting—I don’t know. He was acting like his normal self but not.”
“Listen, I gotta go. You sure you’re okay?”
I glanced down at my arm, sure I’d see a bruise later, but replied, “I’m fine.”
“You pullin’ another double?”
“Yeah.”
“When you clock out, you come to the clubhouse. If I’m not here, you wait for me, you hear?”
For the first time in nearly an hour, I felt it as the knot in my stomach loosened, that anxious feeling eased by nothing more than the tone of his voice.
It was stupid…
Actually—it was love. It was so totally the way I loved him that made it possible for him to make me feel better even just over the phone.
“Yeah, Ri. I hear you.”
He disconnected the call, not bothering to grab his kutte or shed his coveralls as he made his way toward the open garage bay.
With so much shit going on, the garage was working with a skeleton crew.
Three years, he wanted nothing more than to spend his days earning a buck under the hood of a car.
Now, it didn’t feel like freedom so much as it felt like a punishment.
That afternoon, Nomad was on Max watch. In a few hours, it would be Pistol and Fury driving around town, patrolling the streets. After what Lyla shared, he was sure they’d have their hands full—the Kings trying to distract them enough to force a crack in the protection they had around Max.
He was halfway to the clubhouse when he heard the rumble of Rusty’s approaching hog.
Jogging to meet the man as he parked and dismounted his Harley, the two of them only shared a knowing glance before hurrying inside.
They found Cobra, Spurs, and Nighthawk standing in the middle of the lounge, huddled together around the president’s phone—a call live and on speaker.
“Get Rooster on the line. His patrol shift ends now. I want him on the block. He’s your new tail. Tell Max to pack a bag. All three of you here, at the clubhouse, in thirty minutes,” instructed Nighthawk.
“Heard.”
It was all Nomad said before the call was ended.
“What now?” asked Spurs, every eye aimed at Nighthawk.
Their president didn’t respond right away, his focus still directed down at his phone, like he was frozen in time—or, perhaps, indecision. All the men waited patiently for his response, understanding this kind of trouble hit different.
Nighthawk finally took a deep breath, reaching up to run his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, gripping it at his nape as he blew out a sigh. “They want a fight, we’re gonna give ‘em one,” he declared.
“Viv’s got a sister in North Dakota,” he continued, unlocking his phone as he typed out a message. “I’ll send Max there until all this is sorted. Spurs, Cobra—map the route. You’ll be her escorts.”
“I’d like to be on her detail,” Pistol boldly volunteered.
Nighthawk paused what he was doing long enough to peer at Pistol from beneath his lashes. “Don’t waste my time.”
Fed up after the way he’d been shoved into the shadows the last couple of days, Pistol took a step toward the man and asked, “How long we gonna do this? Huh? I stuck my neck out for that girl. I did three years for that girl. I put a fuckin’ man in the ground for that girl.
Maybe I should have told you why, but I fuckin’ didn’t.
Can’t change the past—but after everything I’ve risked for her, if you think I’m plannin’ on stayin’ on the sidelines—”
“You’ll do what you’re told,” interjected Nighthawk as he, too, shortened the distance between them a step.
“Fuck you!” erupted Pistol, now standing toe to toe with the president. No one tried to silence him as he continued, “I kept your hands clean, and this is the thanks I get?”
“Boy, you know these hands aren’t clean.”
“They are to her!” he bellowed.
Nighthawk didn’t fire back a rapid response, his jaw clenched closed tight, his brow marred by a deep scowl, and his eyes boring into Pistol’s.
Both men were breathing heavy, the sound of their exhalations heard in the silence coating the room.
Pistol watched as the father in front of him peered through the smoke screen that was his blind anger to see the truth.
Lowering his voice, Pistol added, “She might not be my blood, but she is my kin. I did what I thought I had to.”
“Might be three years delayed,” Cobra began, “but it’s like you said, Prez—they’re askin’ for a fight. Last thing we need is to be fightin’ amongst ourselves.”
Nighthawk jerked his chin in a show of agreement, lowering the armor of his pride as he looked at Pistol. “You’re still not goin’. Need you here. You’ve got too much context.”
Pistol nodded his concession and took a step back, the muscles at his shoulders loosening.
“Alright. What now?” asked Rusty.
“Now, I call Bull.”