“Yeah, it probably fucking is.” I arched a brow at him. “How’s the family?”
“You mean after our compound was raided and we lost a bunch of men… then after the red alert on the city thanks to the arson attack on the cathedral and the—”
I raised a hand. “After all that. Yeah.”
Declan smirked. “It’s been crazy. You heard from Mary Catherine?”
“She’s in Ohio.”
“I know. Is she happy?”
My voice was deceptively calm as I mused, “Told me some shit about your da trying to take her kid from her?”
“Fucking head case,” Declan muttered under his breath as he smiled at the server and grabbed his drink as soon as it was on the table. “This year was supposed to be better than last year.”
“Never works out that way. But we live in hope.”
“That we fucking do.” He rubbed his temple. “Conor would never have let Da take Mary Catherine’s kid away from him.”
I thought about my baby sister, the woman I’d known for too few years, who’d fallen for one of my MC brothers, and who’d fled to Ohio to escape her parents…
She’d had it too hard, and I knew Digger was intent on making shit better for her.
There was a reason I wasn’t pissed about him making my baby sis his Old Lady—he was one of the fucking best.
No matter what Aidan O’Donnelly Sr. and MaryCat’s goddamn family had to say on the subject.
“She’s got postpartum depression,” I informed him.
“I know. Conor gave me the lowdown. Said it was your mom who went to Da, tried to get the kid taken away from her.”
I grunted. “Sounds about right. Bitch.”
“She ain’t changed,” he agreed.
“Shame, but I’m not surprised. Fucking cunt could die tomorrow and I wouldn’t hurry to her funeral.”
His lips twitched. “Never was much love lost there.”
I took a deep sip of my beer. “No. I definitely made my own family.”
He clapped a hand to my back. “Glad to hear it. We okay?”
“You and me?”
“No. The Sinners and the Five Points,” he demurred. “I know we are. You’d have greeted me with a gun under the table, not a fucking smile if we weren’t. Shit like that would be a declaration of war to a lot of people.”
“You’re lucky I understand how your father works. Otherwise I’d be the one starting shit with you.” I scratched my chin. “I know Aidan Jr.’s woman helped get her out of there, so that’s made things better on my end. She wasn’t alone.”
“No. That hacker of yours helped as well.”
“That she did.” I shot him a look. “I’m okay with drawing a line under this so long as your da leaves MaryCat the fuck alone and lets her live her life in Ohio in peace.”
He clucked his tongue. “Of course. Da’s got bigger fish to fry at the moment anyway. No offense intended to Mary Catherine.”
I tipped my bottle at him. “I get it.”
And I did.
“Fucking Ohio? Shit must have been bad in Manhattan for her to go there,” Declan said with a shake of his head.
“Trust me, I’ve visited,” I drawled. “It’s not the prettiest place in the world.”
“I’ll bet.” He took another draw on his whiskey.
“What’s going on with the Sparrows?”
Declan peered around the five-star restaurant and murmured, “How did you get in here?”
“My woman’s got contacts.”
Tiff might not be a real estate mogul’s daughter anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know her shit about the best places to wine and dine someone in the city.
Not that I was doing that—but I liked putting people on edge. Especially shady fuckers like the Five Points. Even if I did like Declan. In another fucking life, I figured we’d be good friends.
“Why here?”
“Wanted privacy.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know if you had any high-ranking Sparrows in the Five Points.”
He arched a brow. “You thought I’d be more likely to tell you here than in a dive bar near one of my warehouses?”
I grinned. “I’ll buy you the porterhouse steak if that’ll smooth things over.”
“Yeah, just consider that lube.” Declan snorted, shaking his head as he eyed the swanky lunch crowd.
It was all bankers and trust fund fuckers who didn’t have shit better to do with their time than sit around places like this. Neither of us fit in here. Even if his suit was as fancy as what the bankers were wearing.
“You gonna tell me?” I prompted.
“Why are you asking?” he queried carefully. “You got Sinners who are Sparrows?”
I derided, “You kidding me? Nah. Rex might not be the head case your father is but no one would dare cross him.”
That had Declan frowning. “He’s that bad?”
“Got a temper on him,” I confirmed, cracking my knuckles. “Bad one.”
Declan pursed his lips. “How bad?”
“That bad he rarely loses it.”
Declan’s frown deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he has himself on a self-imposed lockdown.”
“Like you?”
“Like me,” I confirmed.
“You who beat your father to death,” he mused.
I shot him a smug smile. “Exactly.”
He rolled his eyes at my smugness then, carefully, answered, “We’re having a small problem with Sparrows in our nest.”
“How many?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
He rubbed his chin. “Unofficial figures are two.”
“Official figures?”
“Seventeen.”
“That’s a fucking big leap. And why the fuck is that official?”
“Junior’s got a plan.” He rolled his eyes again. “I just think he prefers existing in misery.”
Curious, I tipped my head to the side. “Why?”
“Dipshit’s engaged—”
“I know. To Savannah Daniels. She’s the one who helped Mary Catherine get out of New York.”
He nodded. “You know she’s a journalist, don’t you?”
“She eased my morning wood a few times over the years—“
Declan snickered. “Don’t tell Junior that.”
“If he hasn’t realized that already then there really is no fucking hope for him.”
Grinning, he continued, “Asswipe told her there are seventeen.”
The fuck?
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Testing her.”
My eyes flared wide. “You shitting me?”
“No, almost wish I were.”
“Why the fuck is he doing that?”
“She's a reporter,” he repeated.
I read between the lines. “So he wants to see if she spills a story to the press?”
“Or posts it on her blog.”
“This is a disaster waiting to happen.”