My old man gets to his feet and taps Jimmy's hand, making him lower his weapon. "Damn, kid, you have bigger balls than most." He swipes, smearing off the blood from his nose, grinning like a crazy fucker. "You've grown strong, tough. I'm proud of you." He offers his hand out to me and pulls me to my feet.
Pulling me in close, he spins me until I'm in a chokehold. His laughter and praise was only meant to knock me off-kilter. I batter his arm, trying to get him to let me go. "If you attack another brother, you get to wear his scar," he growls in my ear. Un-sheaving his blade, he slices through my eyebrow. It stings like a bitch, but I endure it. I know the rules: son or not, brotherhood comes first.
I'm released from his hold, gagging, trying to pull air into my lungs.
"We need to talk."
Every instinct tells me to go after Drew, to check she's okay. When I saw the way he treated her, I saw red. I heard a bedroom door slam closed and her mass of curls flying behind her like a cape as she darted through the back exit with enough steam anyone would think she was running from a murderer.
"What about Drew?" I ask, still pissed and out of breath, blood dripping down my face and off my chin.
Cranking his neck, he strokes a hand through his beard. "I won't pursue her."
"Why the fuck would you? What the fuck did she do?"
"Not her." He grabs me by the shoulder. "And not out here. Inside."
I follow him back inside to his office, eyeballing Jimmy over my shoulder. "No offense, kid, but he's my Prez," he defends.
Yeah, I know, but it still fucking stings. Jimmy is like a second dad. Pointing the barrel of a gun at my temple is some fucked up shit.
"You need to see this, then you'll understand." My old man sits behind his desk and swivels his computer monitor sideways, clicking on a video.
"The hall and kitchen cameras were knocked out the day your mother…was murdered," he says, the word “mother” a tone deeper than the rest.
Wait. Murdered? My chest constricts. "What did you say?" I ask, my ribs cracking open.
"Look for yourself."
A camera from outside the back entrance of the kitchen leading to the yard shows the kitchen door and Mitch, Drew's dad, barreling through it. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he says, "You need to get me outta here today. Things have changed. I've given you more than enough evidence to buy my freedom."
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Blood roars in my ears, my hands clenching.
“Why are you just telling me this?”
“Because I needed to be sure. I called in a contact of mine, a dirty fed.”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
"Seconds later, your mother stumbled into my office, the last name on her lips—"
"Mitch," I choke out.
"He's a rat. Talking to the feds, she must have heard him, or…I don't fucking know, but he's a traitor. The boys have found him and are bringing him in. He's—"
"Fucking dead!" I roar.
Ten
Drew
Eighteen years old
Two days later…
Two days, and no contact from my dad or Alec. What if his dad really hurt him? Sickness stirs my stomach. I just ran away and left him.
“You heard anything from my dad?” I ask my aunt, who rolls her eyes at me.
“He’s doing illegal crap. When he wants to come for you, he will.”
She’s such a fucking bitch. I don’t understand why he would leave me with her. Where the hell is he?
My mind continues to replay everything that happened.
“Sins of the father.”
My dad loved being a member of the Royal Bastards. I can’t figure out what he could have done to piss Walker off to this extreme. My hands rub over the bruises on my neck.
My cell chirps, making me startle and rush over to the bed.
Alec: Hey. Meet me at our spot. 10 pm.
Nervous bubbles fizzle and pop in my gut. He’s never been distant. It’s just a text, but it feels…cold.
Drew: How do I know this is you?
Irrational? I don’t give a shit. His dad tried to strangle me.
Alec: Baby, just meet me. I need to feel you.
Tears blur my vision as I read and re-read the message. I need to feel him too, but I can’t escape the pit in my stomach telling me to run.
I text Mason, asking him to meet me ten minutes before I have to meet Alec, he replies agreeing, which settles me a little. I’ve never felt afraid of him before, but there’s crawling under my skin—a warning I need to take heed of.
I stick to the shadows, cautious, every sound sending my pulse skipping. Music from the clubhouse hums, vibrating the air around me. The silhouette standing by our bench is unmistakable. I want to weep with relief. My feet sprint off running and the weight of my body barrels into him, my arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist. “God, I missed you,” he whispers against my cheek. It’s only been a couple days, but it feels like more, so much more.
“What the hell is happening? I can’t get ahold of my dad. My aunt is freaking out,” I say, my voice broken. I slip down his body, my eyes looking up to see a slit through his brow, raised and bloody, stitches holding the skin together.
My mouth pops open. “Oh my God, did your dad do that?” I reach up, running my fingers along the cut.
Shaking his head, he shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Alec. That’s going to scar.”
“So we’ll match.” He smiles, staring at my face like he’s trying to memorize it.
A gasp leaves my lips as my eyes drop to his cut.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“You got patched in?” I breathe disbelief, staring at the space where it used to say “prospect.” How…when? Stabbing pain sears through me.
“Yeah, babe. I’m a Bastard by blood and leather now.” He looks guilty of the fact.
“When? Is this why you haven’t been in touch?”
“Yeah…you know how my old man gets.”
My face flinches at the mention of his dad. “How? And so soon? It’s unheard of.”
“Babe, I’ve been a prospect since leaving the womb. I’m Alec Walker.”
“No. You’re just Alec to me,” I exhale. Everything is changing. There’s been a shift. It’s palpable in the air between us. “So, that means no running away with me, huh?” I smile meekly, kicking dirt around with the tip of my tennis shoe.
“You don’t need to run anywhere. My old man was pissed, but he didn’t mean to hurt you.” He strokes hair from my face, his eyes unfocused, glassy. Acid burns my throat.
“You’re so full of shit. Since when did we start lying to each other, Alec?” I tug down the neck of my sweater, showing him the bruising there.
“Motherfucker,” he grinds out.
“Didn’t mean to fucking hurt me, why the hell did you attack him then?”
“Fuck,” he grinds out, running his hands through his hair and pacing. “It’s complicated. Can you just trust me when I say you’re safe? You’re my ol’ lady, no one, including my old man, will touch you now. I’m patched in.”