I showed him the email.
He read it, face as blank as it had been all week. “He has a better heart than me.”
“They both do. I smell Nash all over this shit.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever they want. If the accountant says we can afford it.”
Folk almost smiled, but my phone flashed with an alert from the gate and all humour evaporated.
I moved to the window, watching as old man Doherty rumbled in on the custom Dyna other brothers had put back on the road for him more times than I could count.
Lazy piece of shit.
His years at the club used to mean he had a prime parking spot. He rolled towards it, casual as you fucking like.
River blocked him, sneering with the same violence I’d seen in him when we’d put Priest down.
Him.
Me.
My fucking sister.
On cue, the clubhouse doors opened, and I braced myself for Orla. But Nash emerged instead, his glare lethal enough that Doherty faltered as he dismounted his hog, turning away to find himself in Embry’s path instead.
Doherty paled. Every brother in this club knew the good father had done a long bird for murder.
I allowed myself an internal chuckle, nursing a vape that generally mademewant to off people. Embry wasn’t going to kill Doherty on sight—I’d ordered him not to—but Doherty didn’t know that, and this cunt deserved the fear clenching every muscle as he shuffled towards the chapel, unaware the brother waiting on him was more dangerous than Embry, Nash, and River combined.
Doherty reached the chapel, his footsteps heavy with trepidation.
I took my seat while Folk rose and melted into the back corner.
Benign.
Deadly, if his mood was right, and honestly, I wasn’t fucking sure. I hadn’t asked him what he’d planned for this. What he wanted.I’d spent a lot of time with him over the past few days, forcing my company on him whether he wanted it or not, but we hadn’t talked about Doherty. We’d talked about other shit.Importantshit. Like whether he jumped off a cliff five nights ago because he wanted to swim or fucking die. And how the fuck I’d found out about it.
Sorry, Viktor.
The chapel door opened. Doherty lumbered inside, head down, eyes trained on the floor.
I leaned back, switching the vape for the first goddamn cigarette I’d had all day. “Look at me.”
Doherty raised his gaze, darting it around the chapel, relaxing when he saw only Folk at my back.
Fucking fool.
“I gave you a warning.” I lit my smoke. “That I didn’t want to see your face unless it was under the wheel of my hog. So whatever reason you have for crawling back here better be a fucking good one.”
Doherty shuffled his feet. “You didn’t take my patch?—”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” I pushed out of my chair and rounded the table. “Arms up.”
He’d been frisked at the gate. I repeated the procedure—for show more than anything. If he’d had anything on him, Folk would’ve told me by now.
“Stay there.” Leaving him on his knees, I returned to my seat and my festering cigarette. “Get on with it. I ain’t got time for bullshit.”