Tek let out a humorless laugh and pounded back an entire glass before pouring another one. “I ain’t thrilled he got away when your boy shot him, but I hope he’s suffering for it.”
Kicks’ stomach twisted with guilt because he’d been knocked unconscious for all of it. “The guy who shot him hit him right in the gut. Close range. He didn’t walk away with nothing.”
Tek hummed, but he came back around the bar and brought the bottle with him. “That fuck was shoving his tongue up every president’s ass for a thousand miles before that piece of shit Ammo took him in. I remember him comin’ up in here ready to lick the shit off Reaver’s boots.”
“Let me guess, that didn’t go over well?” Kicks asked as he took a long swallow of the warm liquor.
Tek sneered and shook his head. “Earned himself a fat fuckin’ beating for it. He said some dumb shit about how we’d be sorry. He had no fuckin’ idea what it meant to be part of all this. I wasn’t surprised when Ammo patched him in though. Only good man to come out of that man’s balls was his kid. Even if he made some fuckin’ choices.”
Kicks’ hand curled into a fist, and he turned his blind side to the man to give himself a minute. “If people would get their heads out of their own asses long enough to realized that men like me—and like Rory, and like all the fuckin’ fags and cripples in our club—are better than someone like Hydra, maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here trying to get revenge for your dead brother.”
Tension flooded the room, almost tangible, and thick enough to cut with a knife. Kicks braced himself to face off with this man with his fists—maybe his piece. But then Tek let out a sigh and shook his head. “Shit, man. Jax been sayin’ the same thing, and as much as I hate listening to that little fuck, I know he’s right.”
Kicks didn’t really know what to say to that. He’d been fighting for so long, he wasn’t sure how to take acceptance. “We’re gonna find him,” he finally muttered, then finished off his whiskey before setting his glass down and shaking his head against more. He had to think clearly during negotiations tomorrow, and he wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as he could. “Smokey’s gonna kill him the next time they cross paths. And it ain’t gonna be a quick death.”
“I don’t doubt it. Even that cop whose been sniffin’ around here…”
Kicks sat up straighter. “Nate?”
Tek grimaced again as he refilled his glass. “I thought he was gonna show up here all them years ago, after he left the Reapers. Was goddamn sure of it, but next thing you know, I see his ass on TV with a badge on his chest, talkin’ about cleaning up the city and…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Knew it wasn’t gonna last.”
Kicks didn’t know Nate before he was the man with a badge posing a vague threat to the Chains, but after everything, he could see why it shook any club who knew him to their core. He was good at his job, and he was ruthless. There was something in his eyes that said he could never be balanced, or fair, or give a shit about what lawmakers wanted to consider moral.
He really hadn’t been meant to last.
“We haven’t seen him in a minute,” Kicks said.
Tek raised a brow as he took a swallow, then swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and pushed his glass away. “He was here about two months ago, lookin’ for Hydra. If he found him, this shit would be over by now, so I’m assuming he’s back toward your neck of the woods.”
Kicks wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It would give the Chains a shake-up, and he wasn’t sure they were ready for that. Not yet. But he also knew that Nate had no plans to back down when it came to Hydra.
“If this alliance goes through, we’ll keep your club posted,” Kicks assured him.
Tek laughed as he slipped off his stool, only wobbling a little. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. And I know I’ll be seein’ your face more often. Jax always gets his way.”
Kicks didn’t know what to make of that, but it was in that moment the man himself, with Hawke at his elbow, walked into the room. They met his eyes, and Kicks could see that while nothing had happened, it could have. It probably would have, under different circumstances.
It was more disaster waiting to happen, but he was powerless to stop it.
20
Kicks was left out of the negotiations in the morning until they were ready to finalize everything. He and Hawke walked the perimeter of the club’s property, not saying much, mostly because the only thing Kicks wanted to know was if Jax was going to be an issue. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.
So, they bullshitted about the weather and about the renovations and about the shop. Eventually, Rory called them back, and the pair of them went over the hand-written list Jax had finished scribbling. There wasn’t much on it—he hadn’t been lying when he said that the Chains didn’t have anything the Cobras wanted.
It was an agreement to share information about Hydra, and unless he was encroaching on their territory, they would wait for back-up before trying to take him on. The rest would be re-negotiated after their biggest issue was taken care of.
Kicks folded the paper up and shoved it into his pocket, then offered his hand to Jax who took it readily. “We’ll be in touch, but this is all he was lookin’ for. He’ll sign it.”
Jax nodded, then shook Rory’s hand, then lingered with Hawke. Kicks swore he saw the man slip him something—probably his number, but he pretended not to see as he let Rory take his arm, and they made their way out.
The drive was going to be worse than the one over, because his desperation to be home was almost overwhelming. And he hadn’t realized how obvious he was until Rory let him go with a laugh, and made his way over to Hawke’s bike.
“He can drop me off at home,” Rory said pointedly, his brows lifted behind his dark shades. “That way you don’t have to delay any longer for that blowjob.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Kicks murmured, but he couldn’t deny it. There was no point. He revved his engine and took off ahead of the other two, but they caught up quick, and he let out a breath of relief as they hit the road with little traffic. The miles closed between him and Jude, and he sent him a text letting him know he was only a couple hours out when they stopped for gas and food.
He didn’t get a reply, but he didn’t let that bother him. He knew his house was full of people. At the very least, Gunner, Logan, and Maddie were still there. And knowing Smokey, he’d dragged Eliah to keep his brother company only because he was helpless against his lover and keeping him happy. Kicks wanted to judge him, but he was starting to understand a little too profoundly that same need.
When he saw the sign for River Crest coming into view, he glanced behind him, momentarily forgetting that Hawke had veered off to take Rory home. He pushed his bike a little faster, whipping up the A1A, letting the trees turn into a blur of green and brown. As he came to the entrance to his road, he slowed, but only long enough that he didn’t spin out on the sand.
He rumbled up the drive and let out a sudden, punched-out gasp of relief when he saw that it was empty. Everyone had taken off.