Dani’s gaze sharpens slightly, as she asks., “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The woman sighs. “Just that Angel’s been different since Kiara died.”
Silence settles across the table. She died just before I met Clutch and I have only heard bits and pieces about what happened.
“He’s still a good president,” she adds quickly. “But grief changes people.”
Marisol nods slowly, seemingly thinking over everything, “He doubled down on loyalty after that.”
“Yeah,” Meg murmurs. “Brothers first. Everything else second.”
Another sip of margarita burns down my throat. I stare at the condensation sliding down the glass, my fingers trailing the drips pooling around the glass creating a ring on the table.
The girls keep talking as I look up and scan the room. Angel is still at the bar with Ledger at his side. Razor is across the room watching me even though he is pretending not to.
And I feel it… The empty space where Clutch should be.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe Angel isn’t seeing everything right now.
Maybe the grief, the pressure… the chaos swallowing the club whole. Maybe that is why he’s been so blind.
Mara trusted me.
She told me not to tell anyone.
I place both hands in my lap, wiping the moisture off on my jeans.
Should I talk to Angel?
Should I tell him what I know?
Across the room Razor laughs at something one of the girls says, the sound cuts through the music like a knife. I watch how people move around him,trusthim.
No.
Not yet.
Mara asked me to keep quiet. And these men, they may be loyal to each other, to their brotherhood. But who is loyal to the women at this table? To Mara…
And right now there are too many things happening at once, too many coincidences that can’t be explained. Something is wrong and I cannot risk Mara before Angel opens his eyes and sees what everyone seems to be missing.
CHAPTER 12
BEX - YOUR PAST
The front door slams hard enough to rattle the bottles behind the bar; the music is gone shortly after. Not turned down, someone killed it. For a second, you can still feel the low thud of bass vibrating in the speakers and the scrape of boots on wood.
Everyone turns, and that’s when I see him. Clutch walks in with the rest of them. Axel, Torch, and two prospects I recognize but don’t know well.
They look like men who’ve come from somewhere that didn’t go the way it was supposed to. Torch’s knuckles are split open. One of the prospects has dried blood along his sleeve. Axel’s jaw is tight as if he’s grinding his teeth.
Clutch looks…
Furious.
But it’s the way they move that makes my stomach drop. They don’t spread out or look for their women. They don’t come to the tables...don’t even look this way.