Rev (28 page)

Duke and his theories are getting old, but Mancuso’s silence has been unnerving. He may have been right about Junior, but that doesn’t mean I want to listen to this shit about Mindy’s attack.

“Larry Jennings,” he says. He pulls a plastic hospital bracelet from his pocket and hands it to me. I take it and inspect the information on the label. Sure enough, it belongs to Darren Jennings.

“Where’d you get this?” I ask, feeling my temper rise.

“Someone left it on Nic’s car the morning of Chief’s funeral,” he says. “Didn’t show it to anybody because I wasn’t sure it meant anything.”

My temper gets the best of me, and I lunge and shove him backward. My words come out in a fierce scream. “Guess what, asshole? It fucking means something.”

Everything comes together and makes sense all of a sudden. The fucking tweakers talking to Mindy as if she were Nic. Them calling Duke and telling him that his and Nic’s baby was going to die. I know my brothers have been spending more time figuring out who was behind this shit than I have, but I don’t know if anyone else besides this fucktard in front of me has put two and two together.

“I fucked up. What do you want me to say?”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing you can do unless you can unfuck my woman’s head. You should have brought this to the club months ago.”

“Yeah, I should have,” Duke says. “What do we do now?”

I toss the wristband back at him and rub the back of my neck.

“Make sure it’s Jennings who orchestrated that shit, and then he suffers worse than his pussy son did. I want that entire fucking family dead,” I say with gritted teeth.

I NEVER THOUGHT
I could love someone as much as I love Chey. Layla didn’t come close. She’ll always have a part of me, but that’s my past. The insane, hormonal woman who can’t sing to save her own life beside me has ownership of my soul. She’s just two feet from me, but it’s too far. I’m one lucky motherfucker because now I know what it’s like to love someone with every fiber of your being four times over.

“And the wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round, ‘round and ‘round,” Holly sings along with the horrible fucking kid’s song that’s coming out of the car speakers. She’s seated in the passenger seat of our Tahoe with the visor flipped down and the mirror flap open. Her tired brown eyes are trained on the backseat through the mirror at the little disaster who’s kicking her feet in the air and trying to pull her shoes off.

At eleven months, Charlie is a handful. Her dark brown hair and big brown eyes remind me so much of her older sister. She’s more mobile than I remember Chey being, but what the fuck do I know—I rarely had a sober day back then. Layla didn’t really give a shit what I did. Chances were good that whatever I was into, she was doing it, too. That was also twenty years ago. Shit, I’m fucking old.

“Babe,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road. My shoulders are stiff and my back hurts. I fucking hate staying in hotels, but even worse than that, I hate driving in the city. San Francisco traffic can go fuck itself with an itchy dick. Holly doesn’t hear me—either that or she’s ignoring me, which is something she’s a goddamn expert at—and she keeps on singing. I’d take a bullet for Sweets and all, but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen to this lame shit on repeat. Besides, Charlie doesn’t like this crap anyway.

“Babe,” I say again. I peek to my right and catch sight of her rolling her eyes in the mirror. She purses her lips and cuts off the stereo. I breathe easy for the first time since we got into the car over twenty minutes ago.

“You interrupted our song,” she says in mock annoyance. Or real annoyance. Fuck if I know. Charlie scrunches her face up and grabs a hold of her foot. Her face is bright red. She yanks at her little brown boot and becomes furious when she can’t pull it off.

“Can’t yank it off, can ya?” I ask her with an evil laugh. My eyes meet hers and for a brief moment, she smiles. Her little hands yank at her boot again and the smile vanishes. “That’s right. Dad knows how to tie that shit. Ask your sister.”

Her little face gets impossibly redder as she glares at me, shakes her chubby little fists and then opens her mouth. I regret taunting her immediately. She’s screaming and crying. Fat tears fall from her eyes and cover her cheeks. Even in tears and wailing at full volume, Charlie is the fucking awesome. It’d been so long since Chey was a baby I’d forgotten what it was like to have a baby in the house. I love my kids and all, but shit. Thankfully, she’s finally old enough that I can start to do shit with her and her personality is becoming really pronounced.

“Good job,” Holly says. “You just had to piss her off.”

“Just wait, Sweets,” I say as I pull the SUV into the parking garage and find an empty spot. “Few months, it’s gonna be even. No more unfairly ganging up on me.”

Climbing out, I round the back of the vehicle quickly. Charlie is
still
wailing in the backseat like her world has ended. Sweets gets pissed if I don’t get to her quick enough these days. Fucking temperamental. No wonder our daughter is so prone to throwing temper tantrums. Holly’s door is open, and she’s facing me when I walk up. Sliding forward to the edge of the seat, she finds her footing on the side running board. She takes my hands and lets me shoulder the burden of the extra weight as she steps down. Her rounded belly bumps my gut as she finds her footing.

“Careful with this thing,” I say and place my hands on her stretched flesh just inches above where my son rests. I won’t officially meet him for another few months, but I’m already planning on us leveling the playing field. Leaning in, I give her a quick kiss and a wink. Holly’s hormones are all over the place these days–even so much as a wink can set her off, and do I ever enjoy the rewards when they set her in the right direction.

I retrieve Charlie from her car seat and expertly get her stroller out with my free hand. She quiets her screaming, but kicks against my side. Now I
know
Chey was not this difficult as a baby. I can only hope that Charlie’s teen years are less dramatic than Chey’s were. There’s a learning curve and it takes some maneuvering, but now that I’m used to having a baby in the house again, I’m like a fucking superhero. I can do just about anything with one hand and three hours sleep. Good thing, too, because when baby James is born, I know I’m going to be functioning on a lot less.

Holly grabs the diaper bag from the floorboard and shuts the door behind me as I stick the scream queen into her stroller. She grabs at the handles and pushes her way through the crowded parking garage. I let out a frustrated breath and shake my head. Jim should have been here today. Asshole. Everybody else made it. Just about. Obviously Chief couldn’t make it.

We take the elevator to the lobby of the hotel. Right when we step off, a large sign directs us to the grand ballroom where graduation’s being held. I couldn’t be more proud of my girl today. She’s graduating from culinary school with a degree that specializes in desserts and shit. It’s been two long years that she’s been here in the Bay Area. Even if she does make it home every chance she gets, it’s just not enough. She was a great kid and a fun teenager, but now? She’s incredible.

She only has one flaw.

He’s six-foot-three with brown hair and navy blue eyes. He’s a fucking asshole who gets worse with every passing day and the cut he wears only enables that behavior. I’m proud to call him my brother, but fuck if I don’t want to call him my son. And he’s standing in the doorway to the ballroom wearing dark blue jeans, a gray short-sleeve shirt that shows his tattoos, and his Forsaken cut. He’s started to grow out a goatee, but it’s not much yet. The shit he’s done for the club reminds me that he is man enough to care for my girl. I’m just bitter about the fact that she’s old enough to have a man who’s not me care for her.

She loves him.

It’s been rocky, and he’s fucked up in ways that—I think—entitle me to take him out.

But she loves him.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Holly says from up ahead. “Either that or your brain is going to explode.”

Baby Boy gives me a nod as he bends down to poke Charlie in her belly. She lets out a loud laugh and kicks her feet. Even she likes him. Traitor.

“Grady,” he says. “Can we talk?”

No.

“Yeah,” I say. Holly looks back real quick, but then turns around and keeps walking into the ballroom. There are rows and rows of chairs in front of a small, elevated stage. If Baby Boy is here, then the rest of the hooligans must be here as well.

We walk down the hall and out onto the street. He flexes his jaw a few times and blows out a breath. He’s nervous. Good. Asshole.

“Wanna do it right this time,” he says.

Prick.

“She’s pissed,” I say.

He nods his head and says, “I know.”

“I should have water-boarded your ass for that shit last time.”

“You’d of had the right to,” he says. “Happens in the future? Do it.”

I don’t know when this cocksucker grew a spine, but he did. The club’s good for a lot of things, and unfortunately, one of those things is teaching mouthy boys how to be men.

Goddamn it.

“I got your blessing?” he asks.

Yeah, he does. But fuck if I’m gonna make it that easy on the motherfucker.

I reach out and grab him by the back of his neck. He doesn’t fight me nor does he blink. He’s a rock, just like his dad. That old bastard should be around here somewhere. I squeeze as hard as I can knowing I’m going to leave a nasty bruise. I hope it lasts for at least a week. His jaw tenses, but that’s the only indication that I’m hurting him. Leaning in, I shove my chest against his. My words come out as a hiss.

“I don’t give a fuck how much shit you’ve done for your patch. Doesn’t matter how many people you’ve seen suffer and die, no matter how much vengeance you’ve dealt—you ain’t seen or experienced shit until you’ve hurt my little girl. This is your one fucking chance—your last fucking chance. Be the man she needs. Anything less and you’re dead.”

“Yes, Sir,” he says as steady and cool as can be. Only two reasons a man in his position isn’t angry or flustered by this. He’s either completely insane, or he’s completely in love.

And fuck me if I’m not grateful that if this shit has to happen, it’s with him. Not that I like the prick or anything.

I release him with a violent flip of my wrist. He stumbles a bit, but then straightens his back and lifts his chin. We walk back into the ballroom and join our family. Basically is here—most of us have been in the city for a day or two now since it’s quite a trip. Duke and Nic stand with Holly. Their daughter, Robin, who is two now, stands in front of Charlie’s stroller and is talking with her. I never know what the fuck they’re trying to say to each other, but I’m damn sure they’re conspiring. Alex and Ryan are close by. Took him long enough, but he finally told her she’s gonna marry him. Guess she said yes, judging by the size of the rock on her finger. Ian is talking to Ruby, and I think Elle’s supposed to show up at some point. She said she might have to work, but I can’t keep track of her schedule. Diesel isn’t showing, which is fine. Jim not showing chaps my ass, but what the fuck am I gonna do about it? Asshole. Wyatt is already seated with Mindy by his side and Butch a few chairs down. My mom is on Mindy’s other side, but when she spots Holly, she taps Mindy’s shoulder and they get up and go to love on the babies. Women.

An announcer starts the ceremony, and we all scramble to find seats in the limited space. There’s plenty of standing room, so I opt for standing behind Holly’s chair. My mom sits next to her with Charlie in her lap.

Baby Boy comes to stand next to me. Robin is standing on Duke’s lap and jumping up and down to reach her uncle. I still don’t know what the fuck it is about girls and this prick. Without even looking back, Duke lifts her over his head and Jeremy takes her. She rests comfortably in his arms and places her head on his shoulder.

My brain is assaulted with images of the bastard with his own kid. My stomach rolls violently. The pot brownies I ate last night aren’t sitting right with me all of a sudden.

The ceremony drags on with the only highlight being when Chey takes the stage. She’s dressed in her white uniform with black shoes and her chef’s hat. She looks like the Pillsbury dough boy—silly as hell. But she wanted this, and she’s good at it. I’m proud of her for doing this. She made a hard choice, one I’m not sure I would have made, and it’s paying off. Once they get through the list of the graduates, there are a few closing words, and then the kids toss their chef’s hats in the air. When everybody stands to cheer on the graduates, I lean down and ease Holly up.

Wrapping my arms around her, I whisper in her ear, “Can’t believe she’s grown.” She nods and tears up as Chey approaches us. I step out into the aisle to give her a hug. She’s still a good twenty feet away, but I want to be first. Jeremy steps out beside me and her eyes dart between us. Robin is off with Duke once more. Chey gives Jeremy a wink and picks up her pace until she’s running. He’s her guy now, I remind myself. Dear Old Dad is second fiddle. My shoulders slump, and I give her a sad smile.

She runs faster, and in a second, her smile gets so wide that I swear it could light up the fucking room. She slams into me with such force that I stumble backward. I’m winded, having not expected the hug, but wrap my arms around her tightly. He may be her man, but for now, in this moment, I still get to be daddy. I let myself pretend she’s just graduating kindergarten and we have many more years of these hugs in our future. I’m fooling myself, I know.

She lets go and wraps her arms around Jeremy. It’s not a long hug because once Holly waddles out with Charlie on her hip, Chey’s attention is diverted. She gives them both a hug, but then snatches her baby sister and gives her kiss after kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t care how old I get,” Chey says to Charlie who, as always, is absolutely mesmerized by her big sister. “You’re always going to have to share Dad and Holly with me. Got it?”

Charlie kicks her feet out and reaches for the collar of Chey’s shirt. She’s been practicing it for weeks now, and I’ll admit, I’m a bit jealous, but Charlie gets to work on saying sis. She’s already got mama and dada down, but sissy is her new favorite. I wish Chief could see this. My two girls, each with a piece of him—one with his tribe and one with his first name—for him to spoil.