“Which is so not like you.” Rubin smirked, and something about the way it looked on him made me smile to myself. It was a carbon copy of mine, the little fucker. I already had Tate copying my every move; now it looked like this kid was, too.
“Fine.” I huffed. “Change conversation—”
“Hell to that,” Deeks interrupted, shuffling closer. “Forget Tucker. I want to know. What kind of bastard father doesn’t pay attention to a kid like you? A good kid. A solid kid. A lot of families out there would be proud as shit of you, boy.”
And that was why I loved Deeks. It was why I missed Harry, too. The world needed more people like that: people who could get through to others because they genuinely gave a shit.
Rubin hung his head for a second before he took another sip of his beer and dropped it back down into place. “Sorry, Deeks. I guess I get a little paranoid around here sometimes.”
“Why you paranoid around here? This is a safe place for you. You earned it.”
“No, I knowIdid. But, you know, I guess I just figured you guys would think I was some kind of rat, given who my father is.”
I closed my eyes slowly and waited. Fuck.
I hadn’t told Deeks or any of the boys yet. I’d been waiting for… what? I didn’t even know.
“Who’s your father, son? The Grim Reaper?” Deeks laughed roughly.
“Pretty much,” Rubin answered with a serious face. “You don’t know who my father is?” He looked over to me at the same time I peeked one eye open, scrunching up one side of my face. “You didn’t tell them?”
I sighed, tilted my head to one side and shook it. “Didn’t see the point. Thought I’d save you the paranoia but doesn’t look like that worked out.”
“Who is it?” Deeks interjected.
“Mayor Walsh,” Rubin answered.
Deeks’ cough burst out of him like a phlegm-filled rocket, making Rubin lean back as Deeks slapped his chest and took a minute to regain some composure.
“You’re Walsh’s boy?” he croaked, his head snapping my way in disbelief. “And you knew?”
Keeping my lips pressed together, I smiled as high as I could, creasing my eyes shut.
“Do the others know?” Deeks asked.
“I don’t want it to be a problem,” Rubin said urgently.When I looked at him, I could see the mild panic in his eyes. “I like it here. I’m friends with Tate. I don’t tell nobody nothing when I walk out of those gates, I promise. I wouldn’t ever—”
I held my hand up, cutting him off before I pushed off the back of the bar, dropped my beer on the counter surface in front of Deeks and Rubin, and I leaned in closer to them.
“Will you two quit acting like pussies for just one goddamn second?” I raised a brow, watching them both turn to me in surprise. “Rubin,” I started, focusing on him. “We can’t help who brings us into this sorry little world. I’ve got no issue with knowing who your father is. You know what will happen if you ever cross us, I know you do. You’ve already seen things in here that will stay with you for the rest of your life. You’re a smart kid. You’re bright. Brighter than I ever was, or any of the other scruffy fuckers around here.” Deeks coughed to clear his throat, and I shot him an amused side-eye before I brought my attention back to Rubin. “You know what we’d do to you if you ever hurt The Hounds, and that’s not because you’re Walsh’s boy. It’s because it’s what we’d do to anyone. I trust you, so cut the paranoia out of your life. It ain’t worth the wrinkles or the shriveled dick. You’re good.”
Rubin’s shoulders instantly relaxed, a small nod of understanding showing his gratitude. “I promise I never would. You guys are like family to me.”
“Works both ways,” I assured him before I turned to Deeks. “And you…”
Deeks held both his hands up in the air, admitting defeat before I even started to say anything. “Your club, your rules, your way.”
“That’s why I love you, brother.” I grinned.
“You gonna tell the men about it?”
“When the time is right. No need to add more worry to their shoulders right now, hey?”
“Do you think they’d be pissed with me… for keeping it from them?” Rubin asked quietly, looking around the bar to see if Moose, Owen, or any of the other women were paying any attention. They weren’t. They couldn’t give a shit. Moose was slumped in his chair, asleep. Owen was leaning over a low table working on some books, lost in concentration, and the women were too busy pushing their tits up and reapplying their twelfth coat of that shiny, sticky lip gloss I hated so damn much. When Rubin looked back, he leaned in closer, just in case. “Do you think they’d trust me less?”
“Not if I told them not to.”
Rubin’s young, almost-innocent but very knowing eyes searched mine. “What if I could prove to them how trustworthy I am?”