Chapter 25 #2
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
I didn’t waste time. “I can’t make the Benedict run,” I said.
Kansas’ expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened instantly as he leaned back farther in his chair, the springs giving a low groan beneath him, and said in a voice so neutral it was almost worse than anger, “Why?”
I met his gaze and gave him the truth straight. “I went to the Wilcox Farm,” I said. “David’s in bad shape. The farm’s drowning in debt—medical bills, past-due notices, the whole nine yards. I handed the stack to Blackjack and told him to handle it immediately.”
Kansas nodded once, slow and unreadable, giving me nothing.
“I also ordered Shadow to investigate,” I continued. “Blackjack looked at the numbers and said something’s off. The Wilcox Farm is one of the strongest operations in the county. There’s no reason they should be circling the drain unless somebody is deliberately putting them there.”
Kansas’ jaw tightened just slightly, but he still didn’t interrupt.
He just waited. So I swallowed the knot in my throat and forced out the part that mattered most. “I met my daughter,” I said.
The words came out rough enough to scrape.
“Tatum. She’s six. She’s got my eyes and Lina’s attitude.
And the first real question she asked me was where I’d been. ”
Kansas exhaled slowly, some of the steel leaving his expression.
“Monk,” he said, quieter now, “I get it. I do. A kid you never knew existed. A woman you thought was dead. A whole damn life dropped in your lap overnight. That’s heavy shit.
” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk, and the sympathy in his face hardened into president-business.
“But I need you at that meet,” he said. “Benedict’s expecting the VP.
This isn’t a social call—it’s a new supplier, a new connection, and the kind of relationship we don’t get to fumble.
If you don’t show, it looks bad. Like we’re not serious.
Like we’re not unified. In our world, perception buys almost as much as cash. ”
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. I knew he was right.
Knew the club came first—because that was the oath, the patch, the whole brutal math of this life.
But knowing it didn’t make it sit any easier in my gut.
I had just found Lina. Just met my daughter.
Just started putting my hands around something that felt dangerously close to a real future.
And now I was supposed to turn around and leave them behind for club business like my whole world hadn’t been ripped open twelve hours earlier.
“You’re right,” I said finally, my voice tight enough to cut. “I’ll be there.”
Kansas gave a short approving nod. “Good. You leave next Friday. Should be back by Sunday night if everything goes clean.”
I shifted in the chair, fingers tightening around the armrests. “There’s something else,” I said.
Kansas raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.
“The barbecue,” I said. “The club whores are going to show.”
Kansas’ mouth twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “Yeah,” he said. “They will.”
I leaned forward. “Ruby’s going to be a problem,” I said. “She already put her hands on Lina once. If she shows up while Lina and Tatum are here—”
Kansas lifted a hand and cut me off cold. “Monk,” he said, his tone turning hard, “you made your bed with Ruby. You used her to hurt Lina. You let her think she had a claim on you. That mess belongs to you.”
I went still. Kansas wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.
He kept going before I could answer. “The club whores know the rules. They don’t come around until after six—after the kids are gone, after the families clear out.
That’s always been the deal. But Lina?” He leaned back, gaze steady on mine.
“She hasn’t been formally claimed. She’s not wearing your property patch.
She’s not your ol’ lady in the eyes of the club. So my hands are tied.”
My chest went tight. “Kansas—”
“The whores are here for the brothers’ enjoyment,” Kansas said, voice flat and hard now.
“That’s the arrangement. And until you put your patch on Lina—until you make your position official—Ruby’s got just as much right to be in that space as anybody else.
You don’t get to ask the club to respect a claim you haven’t made. ”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him Lina was mine whether she wore my patch or not, that Tatum was mine no matter what any bylaws or old codes said.
But the truth sat there between us, ugly and undeniable.
In the world of the MC, rules mattered. Symbols mattered.
Public claims mattered. And I hadn’t given Lina any of that yet.
“So what do I do?” I asked, my voice lower now.
Kansas’ expression softened a fraction. “You handle Ruby,” he said. “You make your position clear. And then you get Lina to accept your patch. Because until you do, this shit is going to keep happening.”
He paused, then fixed me with a look that hit harder than any raised voice could have. “And, Monk? You need to decide what you want more—the easy road, or the right one. Because you don’t get both.”
I stared at him, jaw tight, because I knew exactly what I wanted. I had probably always known. But wanting something and being worthy of it—earning it, protecting it, standing up in front of everybody and taking responsibility for it—those were two different things entirely.
“I’ll handle it,” I said finally.
Kansas nodded once. “Good. Now get out of my office. I’ve got paperwork to finish.”
I pushed up out of the chair, my legs feeling heavier than they should’ve, and headed for the door. But before I opened it, I stopped and looked back over my shoulder. “Kansas.”
He looked up from the paperwork.
“Thanks,” I said. “For having my back.”
Kansas’ mouth twitched, almost a smile. “That’s what brothers do.”
I nodded and walked out, the weight of the conversation settling across my shoulders like wet concrete.
I had a run to make. A daughter to protect.
A woman to claim. A mess named Ruby to shut down before it got anywhere near Lina and Tatum.
And every damn second felt like sand running through my fists.