“Forsaken Old Ladies have always been what keeps us from killing each other. Our women know our secrets and our troubles. They know our dirt, and they love us anyway. Shit, Ruby’s gotten more dirt on her hands on behalf of this club than half of you bitches have. Our women trust us to get our shit done, and they expect us to call on them if need be. But that can only happen if we can trust them. Some members have come to me, concerned because they don’t really think Alex can be trusted and they worry how deep Trigger’s getting with her.”
“She can be trusted,” Ryan mutters. He blows out a deep breath and shakes his head. “Do we all have a bunch of fucking pussies or something? We’re grown fucking men sitting around talking about relationships and shit?”
Grady’s chair scrapes as he pushes it back a few inches then looks down the table to his left, meeting Ryan’s eyes. Everything seems all calm and controlled now, but one wrong move or one wrong word and any of these guys are likely to pull their gun.
“Some of us question your judgment,” Grady says to Ryan. It was Jim’s time to talk, but it looks like that’s over now. The club’s taking the floor.
“I’ve been questioning your judgment for a long fucking time,” Trigger says back.
“You might want to explain that one, brother,” Grady says, drawing the words out.
“It means that you can’t keep the mother of your kid off the glass pipe, so I don’t know what fucking business you have worrying about me and mine,” Trigger bites back. And just like that, the shit has hit the fan.
Grady shoves his chair back and stands up. Ian moves backward quickly to avoid being the meat in a knuckle sandwich. And Trigger—he just fucking sits there and very slowly turns toward Grady. Standing, Ryan looks relaxed. He always does just before he’s about to fuck somebody up. I don’t know that he even can fuck Grady up, but it looks like he’s damn determined to try.
“Sit down,” Jim says firmly, but neither man moves.
“This ain’t your business, Pres,” Grady says, using his nickname for Jim. Very slowly, he reaches behind his back and wraps his hand around his pistol. Fuck. And this shit is why we don’t bring guns into Church. The once quiet room erupts into a cacophony of sound as the entire table pushes their chairs back and draws their weapons at the same time. Trigger pulls his piece, and, when his eyes focus in on Grady, they widen just slightly. I’m so distracted by everybody else’s reactions that it takes me an extra second to stand and draw my piece, but when I do, I got Trigger in my sights. He’s wild as fuck, and even though I don’t think he’d shoot Grady, I’m not sure I know him as well as I thought I did. Best friend or not, shooting another patched member is a fucking death wish—especially doing it in Church. Fuck Jim and his fucking call that we need to be at the ready in case Mancuso shows up.
At least if I lay Trigger down, I know it’ll be quick. One of these other fuckers shoots him and he might bleed out on the floor for a couple of minutes before he finally passes, and I don’t want that kind of suffering for him.
“Put down the gun, Trigger,” I say in warning. His eyes slide toward me for half a second before returning back to Grady. He shakes his head.
“Fuck you,” he spits. “Everybody else wants to give me shit, but they don’t like it when it’s thrown back at them.”
“Too far, brother,” Ian says from his position behind Grady. Moving just slightly to my right, I see that Ian’s gun is pointed at Grady’s shoulder blade. Doesn’t matter how quiet and disturbed the guy seems, he’s really a pacifist at heart. “Put down the gun and Grady’s going to let this shit go.”
“The fuck I am,” Grady says. “Got out-voted on the trip to Brooklyn, but this shit I ain’t cool with. I don’t like this bitch in Pres’s house. I don’t like her this close to the club. She’s a fucking security risk, and I’m not willing to risk my freedom just because she’s Ruby’s long lost kid.” Shaking his head he asks, “You really trust this bitch?”
His words come out as a bark, but his eyes are pleading with Trigger to understand. It looks like he just wants him to ‘get it’ already, but Trigger’s one dense fucker. He won’t say it out loud, but he pretty much thinks Princess shits rainbows. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be making a trip to the house every day just to walk around the fucking place and avoid Alex while he’s at it.
“Yeah,” Trigger says. “I do, and so does Ma. I’m taking responsibility for her.”