I wasn’t going to get that, so what did I know?

I had to stop and recalculate.

He had seven men with him.

There was no way he’d take on Richter with seven men, and I wasn’t including myself in this situation.

He would need more help if he was going to backtrack on us.

I was still waiting for his answer.

His eyes got hard. He tilted his head back. His nostrils flared, and all the while I stared right back at him.

I could take out my gun. I could shoot him in the head. Then I’d pray. That was a last-ditch option if hell broke loose just now.

I didn’t move a goddamn inch.

Traverse’s eyes narrowed. An emotion flickered before vanishing, and he cleared his throat. He held his hand out. “You know we are.” But his tone was curt.

He waited, and I shook his hand. We stood at the same time. The rest of his guys did too, and I saw one slip into the bathroom.

“Maybe we should take a breather? Meet up later tonight?” I suggested.

He jerked his head in a nod. “Yeah. That sounds great.”

Too fast. He smiled too fast, and he took that bait too fast.

Fuck.

I couldn’t have timed how fast they left. They were gone before I even thought about it. There was a trample down the hall, leaving just me standing in the back section.

Until I heard a toilet flush.

That bathroom was just outside the door.

The door swung open. His last member stepped out.

I raised a hand. “Hey, man.”

He scanned the room, and his eyes widened a fraction. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he tugged on his cut with his other hand, coming toward me. “Everyone take off?”

I cocked my head, making sure I talked as smoothly as the bottom of a snake’s bottom. “Traverse wanted you to stay back, give me the rundown on your group’s operation and everything.”

“Really?”

I narrowed my eyes. “That all right?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He nodded and came back into the back room, shutting the door behind him. “He wanted me to tell you everything?”

“Just go over the basic operations. We’re going to meet later and come up with a plan of attack for your guys and mine.”

He was low man on the totem pole. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have picked that time to go to the bathroom, so I knew he didn’t know anything.

Still, he should’ve hesitated.

My guys wouldn’t have said a goddamn thing.

This guy told me everything—where their extra men were coming from, where they were going to hunker down for the fight, where they knew Richter might be staying since he wouldn’t be at their compound anymore. He told me how many of the men they thought they could pull to their side. He gave me names. He gave me names of the guys coming to help.

The only thing he didn’t give me was the shirt off his back, and I watched his phone. He had it clipped to his side. It started blinking as he was talking, and it kept blinking the whole time. He talked right through it, not noticing it once.

No matter what Traverse was really planning, we were still going to war.

I just wasn’t sure against who.

Heather found me still sitting there, long after that last guy left. The sounds from Manny’s filled the room as she opened the door, quieting as she shut it.

“Hey.” She crossed to me. “You okay?”

Like so many other times, probably in the thousands by now, I lifted my arm. She curled up on my lap, and I encircled her. She was secure, right where she belonged, in my arms.

I let out a long, tense sigh. “Yeah. I think so.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if they were telling the truth.”

She tensed, then let out a short laugh. “You say that like you’re disappointed.”

Because I was. Because I wasn’t sure.

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “A push to get into Roussou is different than a mutiny war.”

One was a helluva lot bloodier than the other. Heather didn’t ask which was which. She already knew.

She leaned back, resting her head against my chest, and found my hand with hers. “We’ll make it through. We always do.”

She moved my arm aside and lifted my shirt. I already knew where she was going. A moment later, as I felt her tracing Naly’s name again, I closed my eyes and imagined I was holding both of them.

Until she said, “What are you going to do about Bren?”

Oh, fuck.

28

Heather

“You want me to what?” Bren asked, her hands on her hips.

Channing was telling Bren and her crew about the situation, and once again, things were a little tense. They seemed fine with watching out for the Red Demons MC—all of them except Bren. Of course.

Channing leaned against his kitchen counter. It was late at night, late for these teenagers. Normal kids should’ve been in bed, their homework done, their only worries about the next day’s classes. Again, not these kids. Midnight might as well have been their lunch hour, and every one of them was bright-eyed, but not bushy-tailed.

“You think they’ll target Bren?” Cross asked.

Bren had been protesting, but she went quiet once Cross started talking. She stood slightly behind him, her arms over her chest. Her chest rose and fell, and she glanced at me. I saw the struggle in her. The sister in her wanted to tell her older brother to fuck off, but Channing wasn’t speaking in that capacity now—or not only in that capacity. He was crew, like them, and he was the godfather in Roussou.

She closed her eyes a second before moving alongside Cross to face her brother more fully.

Channing paused a beat before nodding. “They might. Everyone’s protected in our crew, except Bren. She’ll be the lone wolf, and they might use that.”

The tallest one pushed off from the wall and came to stand next to Bren. “She ain’t alone.”

“The Ryerson crew will help us,” Cross added.

“You sure about that?”

I was thinking it, but Channing spoke it.

Cross dipped his head in a brief nod. “They’ve had a leadership change. Drake Ryerson.”

“That fuck?” Channing studied his sister for a moment. “You okay?”

She met his gaze and started to nod, but paused. “I’m more worried about you, actually.”

A wide smile flashed over the tallest one’s face, and he threw his arm around Bren’s shoulder. “We got your sister. No one’s going to hurt her, MC or crew.”

Without blinking or showing any emotion, Bren slammed her elbow into his ribcage.

“Ow!” He glared at her.

She didn’t even spare him a look. “You know better than to do that with me.” Turning, she walked out of the room.

Rubbing his side, he started after her, but Cross cut him off. “Don’t.”

The taller one stopped in his tracks, silent as Cross went to follow Bren.

The fourth member of their group went to the front door. “Jordan, you coming?” he asked.

“Shit.” Jordan’s tall shoulders dropped, and he trudged after their last member. He looked in the direction of Bren’s room before going out.

The front door shut behind them.

And a second later, Bren’s door clicked shut.

“She’s in there. With him. Alone.” Channing raked a hand over his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do here?”

Again. Not normal kids.

I crossed the room to stand in front of him. I rested my hands on his stomach. “It wouldn’t have made a difference to us when we were that age.”