“Ian doesn’t talk to me about it, but something is going on. He keeps preparing for a trip, securing the house and showing me where to hide when he’s gone if anybody shows up.” Mindy finally meets my eyes, worry overtaking her pale face.
“Damn it,” Holly says more to herself than the rest of us. She scrubs at her face before lowering her hands to the table and staring at her hands, brows pulled together in deep thought. “The club took a vote. Once Mancuso is released, they’re taking the fight back to New York.”
“How do you know this shit?” Holly’s silence speaks volumes. So do the looks from the rest of the old ladies. Ruby knew, judging from the look on her face, but the rest of them didn’t. Nic’s annoyed, Mindy looks like she finally understands what’s going on, but it’s Alex whose expression kills me. Her big brown eyes are filled with sadness, and her lower lip is jutted out.
“I didn’t know,” she says and pauses before taking a deep breath. “Ryan told me they’d be leaving once my dad was released, but that was it. I begged him to talk to me, but he wouldn’t. I just assumed every one of us got the same speech. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t listen to me.”
“No, I didn’t get any fucking speech,” I say coldly. The wheels turn in my head as I piece the day together. Piper and I were chilling at home when Holly called, inviting me over for a cake testing. It was the first I’d heard of it, but since we live down the street now, I figured it wasn’t a big deal to pop over for free cake. Then Holly’s weird silence at the get-together she’s hosting, and the blow-up between she and Mindy…
“Who did you tell this was a bad idea to?” The hairs on my arms stand straight up as I ask the question. Somehow, I already know the answer. The other day, Zander came home from school and said Wyatt had asked Holly for some kind of favor. At the time, I brushed it off. My boy has had a difficult time adjusting to his new school, and with Holly being a guidance counselor, I figured it had something to do with his grades or sometimes rather rough social skills.
But I was wrong. I can see that now.
“Nevermind,” I say when Holly’s eyes won’t meet mine. She sighs heavily, pushes back from the table, and leaves the room. The anger I expect to flood my vision never comes. Instead, an ice cold determination settles in my gut and spreads throughout my body. I stand and walk Piper over to Ruby. Handing her over wordlessly, I leave the house, trusting that my kid’s in good hands with Ruby.
It doesn’t take long for me to get back to the house, hop in my SUV, and head to the clubhouse. That wasn’t a bonding session with the girls, it was a distraction to keep me out of club business. That’s the last fucking time I let Wyatt pull the wool over my eyes.
When I get to the clubhouse, Jeremy doesn’t want to let me past the gate. It isn’t until I remind him that he can’t touch me, and slither past his muscular frame, that I make it through the gates.
“You’re kind of an asshole,” he says, with his hands in the air and keeping as much space between us as he can. A smile finds its way to my face.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby boy.” Jeremy smirks, all knowing and taunting, like the fucking kid has something on me. I shake my head and turn toward the clubhouse. Stopping dead in my tracks and surveying the parking lot, realization dawns on me. This is why Jeremy’s being so smug. The lot is full of sleek, black luxury cars and SUVs. Mafia black. These fuckers are so predictable. I turn back to Jeremy and decide that being nice might have its perks.
“Friend or foe?” The kid stares at me blankly before blinking. Shaking my head and abandoning any pretense of being in a decent enough mood to socialize and study the clubhouse. I know the way Forsaken men think well enough to know that the front door is locked. The boys won’t risk any interruptions when they have visitors— especially not potentially unfriendly visitors.
“You have keys,” I say to Jeremy. He stares at me blankly before a cocky grin appears on his face. He’s smart and determined. I can see the look on his face. He wants his top rocker more than he wants his next breath. I respect the kid even if he has suddenly come down with the inability to speak. “Cough ‘‘em up, prospect.”