7. Digger
7
DIGGER
“I think it’s time we thought about puttin’ pressure on Terry.” I pace behind my brother’s sofa in the meeting room: his office. “I know you don’t wanna let the asshole know we’re on to him, but we’re at a loss on where to look. Somebody let Fox know we were comin’. May as well find out if it was him.”
Our brother had moved Maddie. Signs of my niece were there, according to Buster. Little clues that our princess had been held hostage at the Kenley's, just as Connor had promised. Only, they're not there now, and nobody knows where to look next. Terry's buy-up of property has gone on for six or more years. If Fox continues to use the asshole's acquisitions to his benefit, we're faced with a portfolio of land that would take days, if not weeks, to trespass and scour.
We need the man himself to clue us in on what we’re dealing with.
"No." Tyke's left heel taps a quick-fire staccato beat on the floor, his shoulder bouncing with the movement thanks to his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped between them. "I'm not givin' him control yet."
“We don’t even know if he’s got anythin’ to do with this hare-brained idea of Fox’s,” Turnip points out. “Until we find Fox, we can’t assume who he might have helping him.”
“You don’t think Connor knowing it was Fox who took her is a big enough clue Terry’s got play?” Hammer grumbles. “The fact Fox held her on Terry’s land?”
"Either way, Fox won't be doing it by himself." Rigs absently strokes his mustache. "He never had the gumption to do something like this alone."
“What do you know about his ability in this shit?” Turnip snaps. “You were a fucking prospect when he was around. Barely patched in when he left.”
“I know enough,” Rigs bites back.
“Quit it,” I admonish, glaring at the two of them. “Your goddamn bellyachin’ ain’t helping anyone.”
“You think Connor could help narrow things down again?” Minion pipes up from where he’s kept quiet until now.
Tyke’s head snaps up. “For a price, and I’d rather not ask Rae to give that up.” He presses his palms together tight.
Minion tilts his head to the opposite side, his narrowed eyes shifting to zero in on me. "You two wanna tell me what is goin’ on with that girl?”
“Now ain’t the time, brother.” I lean both hands on the rear of the sofa behind Tyke, showing my support.
“Then when is?” Hammer asks without an ounce of malice. Only curiosity for the things he ain’t privy to.
Tyke sighs, head between his hands and fingers laced behind his neck. "They're right, Digger. May as well get it out and done with so these fuckers can put their goddamn brains to use on the things that matter." He lifts his head to pin them all with a hard stare. "Like bringin' Maddie home."
The officers all remain quiet for varying reasons. Rigs stares at the toe of his boot; Hammer, his hands spread atop his knees. Turnip tilts his head back, teeth running a path over his bottom lip as he studies my brother. Minion folds his arms and scowls, shaved fucking head shining under the lowlight.
"We agreed to pair Rae with Digger in a ruse to cover her reason for bein' with us, correct?"
A couple of the fuckers nod at their president’s statement.
“I didn’t account on feelings bein’ taken into account,” Tyke grumbles. “Diggers, hers, or mine.”
"What the fuck you gettin' at?" Hammer asks, lacing his hands behind his head to flex his arms. "You sayin' things got real between you two?" he directs at me.
I chew the corner of my bottom lip and shrug. “I guess.”
"You guess." Minion nods. "You fuckers are playin' with the already fragile emotions of a young woman here. There ain't no maybes, possiblies, or fuckin' perhapses about it." He's every inch the father of a daughter in the moment. "Find your goddamn balls and call it what it is."
“She belongs to both of us, and I want it patched as such,” Tyke barks. “Yeah, I could have come out and just said it like that—blunt—but I wanted you assholes to feel as though it weren’t a forgone conclusion. That you had a say in matters that affect the club.”
“And is it?” Turnip asks quietly, peering at me and Tyke from the corner of his eye. “A forgone conclusion?”
“Can’t speak for my brother,” I say, “but I ain’t backin’ down.”
“Fuck’s sake.” Turnip swings his head away, staring at the opposite end of the room.
“Spit it out,” Tyke says. “Speak your piece, brother.” There’s a warning in his tone echoed in the death grip I have on the back of the sofa.
“She’s your fuckin’ daughter’s age,” Turnip exclaims. “It’s fucked up.”
“I mean, if she consents to this,” Rigs says with a shrug. “What does it matter?”
“I’m more concerned with what happens after,” Minion says. “When the heat’s off her, when Maddie’s home and Terry’s under control, when the adrenaline leaves,” he stresses, pausing for effect. “What then?”
“Guess we get a shot at happiness,” Tyke states carefully.
Nobody misses the hint of sarcasm in his reply.
Minion nods tightly, lips drawn back in a firm line. “I don’t agree with it. She’s vulnerable, and you fucks are takin’ advantage of her desire for protection. Her need for a man to keep her safe.”
“She don’t need no man to keep her safe,” I snap, visions of Rae with that goddamn knife to Connor fresh in my mind. “She does need lovin’. What’s so wrong about me doin’ that? Or Tyke?”
“Her head ain’t on straight,” Minion pushes. “Maybe she needs love, but who says you two are the right fuckers to give it?”
Rigs sighs, slumping down in his seat. "We gonna throw opinions at this all night or vote on her patch? Because I don't know about you assholes, but, as Tyke said, I wanna get back to figuring out where Maddie is."
“I’m happy to vote,” Hammer says with a shrug.
It didn't escape my attention that he omitted to share his thoughts. "Let's do it, then."
“Not happening,” Minion says with a jerk of his head. “It’s a Nay for me.”
“You?” Tyke glowers at Turnip.
Our Road Captain slowly wets his lips. “Come back to me.”
“Aye,” Rigs says.
I lift my brow at Hammer.
He glances to the side, jaw hard, and gently nods as though agreeing with his thoughts. "Aye." He snaps his gaze to Minion, who jerks forward as though surprised. "What? It keeps her safe, and that's the whole fuckin' point to this bullshit, ain't it?"
“You’re both fucked.” Minion fists one hand inside the other. “Up to you, Turnip.”
Two votes for yes, one for no. Either the aging man to my right will leave it a hung jury, meaning we cast a new vote on who the deciding member should be, or he'll make it so that my fucking lungs don’t feel as though they have holes punched all through them.
A deep breath rises in the man's chest as he fixes his gaze on the table between us. "Chances are you won't remember," he starts, "but a long time ago, when you were just a wee nipper, we had a member by the name of Lucky."
“Yeah, I remember,” Tyke grumbles.
He’s already one step ahead of me. The name strikes a chord, but I can't reiterate facts about the guy.
"He passed about five or so years after your father let you boys start hangin' around the club," Turnip continues, glancing at Tyke. "Great guy. Do anything for you, give you the shirt off your back, and all that."
“You got a point to this?” Tyke snarls.
"Official cause of death was a road accident, but that ain't all there was to it. See, he'd started seein' a girl he knew in high school. But although separated, she was still married. Her old man got wind of them, and I can tell you now that there was a certain gray truck in the body shop not two days after Lucky got hit."
“Fucker wasn’t so lucky after all,” Rigs says with due respect.
“No. He wasn’t. My point is,” Turnip stresses, turning to me and Tyke, "issues around women have a way of turnin' ugly. Fast. Lucky's ain't the only story I could tell you of a man burned by love—if that's even what you feel toward our guest. But you're both grown men," he says pointedly. "You know what you're doin' and understand the consequences." He looks toward Minion and gives him a tip of his head. "That's why I'm voting Aye."
It feels like a trap.
"For fuck's sake." Minion jets from the seat, pacing to the wall and back. "I'm fuckin' making a promise," he bites, finger pointed our way. "You two fuck that woman up any more than she already is, I catch a whiff of you hurtin’ her through negligence or selfishness, and it’ll be my position up for replacement.”
Tyke leans back, cut touching my hands and jolting me to stand tall. I snort a disbelieving laugh and shake my head. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Fuckin’ oath, I would.” His upper lip twitches. “Abuse, of any kind, is a hard no. I couldn’t consciously align myself with men who’d do that.”
“You fuckin’ watch your words.” Tyke rises from the seat, pacing toward the man. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare accuse me of knowingly abusin’ a woman.”
“That’s the point,” Minion utters, meeting Tyke chest-to-chest. “I don’t think you’d even realize you did it.”