“Seems you two assholes are fuckin’ things up for me.” Eli’s voice is stern and non-feeling. “Interfered in a little transaction we’d worked out between us and the Wild Outlaw MC.”
So this is the shit Drake’s dad is into. From surf gang to MC ties that walk way outside of the law. “If you’re referring to me saving your son’s ass and replacing the shit he owed, yeah, I guess I interfered.” You motherfucker.
Eli spins in his chair, and I’m struck by how similar he and Drake look. Dark eyes and hair, athletic build, but whereas Drake’s style reeks of California wannabe gangster, Elijah’s is more mafia with a sprinkling of biker and a dash of serial killer. Even with their similarities, their body language couldn’t be more different. My brother has never looked so beaten, and Eli’s snarling. “Big shot superstar thinks he can talk shit to me?”
My muscles tense as the urge to wrap my hands around this guy’s throat becomes overwhelming. “You called me here. Now tell me what the fuck you want.”
He pulls a gun faster than I can track and points it at me. “Your slut mother never taught you boys any respect.”
Adrenaline races through my veins, half anger, half nerves, but the anger wins. “You’re wrong. She taught us to give respect to those who earn it.”
My gaze darts to Drake, who still looks lost in his own head. I don’t know what happened in here before I walked in, but whatever it was clearly wasn’t in Drake’s favor.
“You’re not gonna let him go, are you?” I stare at Eli, refusing to break eye contact.
He seems to grasp hold of what little control he has left and holsters his weapon. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I only came here to talk about you releasing my brother—”
He burst into an evil laugh that pricks against my skin.
“Mase.” Drake’s voice is beside me, but faint. “I already tried.”
I glare between them. “What? Why not?”
“Because he took a vow when he joined me.” Eli shrugs and stares at his son. “No getting out. He knew that from day one.”
“What if he refuses?” No man can make another man do anything he doesn’t want to.
He pushes up from his seat and moves around to drop his ass on the table next to Drake. “We terminate those who don’t stay loyal.”
My flesh crawls at the seriousness of his words. “You’d do that to your own kid?”
Eli tilts his head. “You sure you want the answer to that question?”
I throw an arm out, pointing to a downtrodden Drake. “He’s your son. How could you expect this of him? You wanted nothing to do with him for most of his life. Now you’re so devoted you can’t let him go?” Even if it means so that he can raise his child? I avoid giving all that away. After all, knowledge gives them power.
“Mason, stop.”
I turn my glare to my brother. “Stop? Stop what? Defending you? Fighting for you? Dragging your ass out of the bed you made for yourself? I can’t do that. I’m your brother, your family—”
“You’re not part of this family—”
“Fuck you, Elijah.” I push up from my chair and grab my brother around the bicep. “We’re done listening to whatever you have to say.”
“Don’t walk away from me, boy.” Eli’s voice shakes with rage. “No one walks away from me.”
“Yeah? What’re you gonna do? Shoot me in a hotel suite in the heart of Las Vegas?”
“There are worse things than getting killed.” His words drip with threat.
“You leave my brother and me the fuck alone, and we’ll keep what we know from the cops.”
“Don’t handle threats well.” Elijah leans forward, his fists balled.
“Well then, this should be good practice.” I drag my brother from the room, refusing to look back or at anyone until I’m out of the suite and into the elevator.
It’s only then I slam my brother against the wall and get into his face. “What the fuck did you do, huh? What did you promise these guys that they’re refusing to let you go?”
He shakes his head, studying the floor as if the tacky carpet will reveal the answer.
“I’ve always been there for you.” I shove him and he doesn’t resist. “You owe me something here. All I’m asking is how the hell you got in so deep.”
The elevator doors ping and an older couple joins us. I move to the opposite wall and try like hell to calm my breathing. I don’t know what happened in that room before I got there, but Drake didn’t leave the same man.
Once in the casino, we head straight out to the valet and wait for him to bring up my truck. I dart my eyes to my brother, who’s acting as if his skull has doubled in weight and keeps his chin down.
I pull out my phone and hit Trix’s contact info. It rings until her voicemail picks up. Shit.
I hit “end” and type out a quick text.
On my way. Stay put. We need to talk.
The valet pulls up with our ride, and I toss him a few bucks and climb in, Drake doing the same while still playing mute.