Answering it with a grunt, he passes to her. “It’s Kid.”
Taking a leaf out of Maddi’s book, I roll my eyes. All these ridiculous names do my head in.
As she talks on the phone, I direct the two men to carry Benji to the car. It’s a tight fit, and we have to lay down the seats, but we get him in there. I hop into the back with him to keep an eye on his status while they organize his car for the rest of them to follow us to the hospital. Smoke is driving me, Tally is taking the other two women. I’m glad I’m in this car because being near the two friends comes with the risk of extreme frostbite. I’m thinking they’re more along the lines of former friends at the moment.
***
Maddi has no qualms about using my status at the hospital to get Benji into an emergency bed quicker than normal. Standing by, I watch as she transforms from battered and upset sister into a dynamic force of nature—determined to get her brother the best care pronto.
Only once she’s satisfied that he’s being looked after does she wilt, leaning against Smoke as he escorts the pair of us to Joel’s room—our original destination earlier this morning before the mayhem broke out.
Tally has been left downstairs with Benji. Lacey made herself scarce shortly after we arrived, heading off without a word. I’m unsure how to proceed with my knowledge of her extracurricular activities. There’s an onus on me in regards to patient care. Sitting on knowledge about a nurse with a drug problem is a direct breach of my duty, not to mention my ethics.
Listening to their quiet conversation as we take the lift to the fifth floor, I learn that Smoke is Maddi’s older cousin from her mother’s side, and that Benji has had a drug problem for over six years. It had been a sporadic problem until Joel was injured months ago, the night that I met Lucas to be exact. Since then he’s been spiraling out of control, using more and more since his football commitments were reduced due to a season ending knee injury he sustained earlier in the year. Apparently, Beast hasn’t been supporting their tough love endeavors, either living in denial or believing Benji’s excuses.
“What do you think will happen with Dad?” Maddi asks tiredly as she drops into one of the visitor’s chairs in Joel’s room. He’s sleeping at the moment, looking pale but peaceful. We were allowed in without any issues, the previous night’s edict that he didn’t want to see his family evidently lifted.
Squatting in front of her, Smoke inspects her neck and face. She’s refused all of my offers to help, too busy treating me as an invalid, more worried about the stress of today taking a toll on the baby than her own injuries.
“That’s up to the Club. You know I can’t tell you anything. Wait for Mad Dog to fill you in, if he does.”
It’s a testament to her tiredness that she doesn’t argue like I expected her to.
I’m disappointed since I want to know what’s going on as well.
My stomach rumbles, making me giggle when it gets louder and louder. I haven’t yet eaten today, the customary nausea and dizziness that’s greeted me for the last few weeks giving me an easy time of it so far. Not wanting to rock the apple cart, I’ve held off even thinking about food.
“Can you grab a couple of wraps and a drink for us, Sam?” Maddi pulls some money from her purse, but Smoke waves it away.
“No weird diet shit?” he asks me as he makes his way to the door.
I shake my head. I eat just about anything.
“I don’t like...”
“Mayo, anything with seeds, and don’t get your coffee from the cafeteria. You only drink the expensive shit from the café downstairs.”
Mock saluting Maddi as he finishes her sentence, he leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
“What a day,” Maddi groans, poking at her split cheekbone and her bruised neck. “I’m sure after today and yesterday, you’re wondering what the hell you’ve got yourself into.”
“Something like that.” Pausing, I weigh up whether what I’m about to ask will piss her off or worry her. “You said to Benji that Lacey’s your best friend?”
“Yeah, she is. Was. I don’t know.” Fixing her eyes on Joel, she shrugs. “After what Connor put her through, I should be happy that she’s moving on. It’s just Benji’s unstable, like really unstable at the moment. He’s not exactly the settling down type either. She’s going to get hurt. I’ll get caught in the middle. It won’t be pretty.”
“You must know she’s using with him.” My blunt question pops out of my mouth before I can stop it. I mentally admonish myself for my lack of tact.
“WHAT!” Slapping her hand over her mouth when Joel stirs, she slides closer to me, lowering her voice. “Why would you say something like that? She’s a nurse. She wouldn’t do drugs.”
“She was high today. Surely, you noticed?”
Shaking her head she sits back, resting her chin on her hands, zoning out.
I leave her to it, busying myself with reading Joel’s chart. His suicide attempt was as serious as it gets. One hundred and fifty Valium followed by twenty-eight Tramadol, and an enormous amount of alcohol. He wasn’t planning on surviving—the sheer amount of Valium he ingested isn’t easy to come by. He’s either stockpiled previous prescriptions or purchased it illegally.
“Wow,” I mutter to myself. His urine was the color of Coca-Cola when he was admitted, and he suffered at least two seizures, respiratory distress, and tachycardia. He’s an exceptionally lucky man to be alive, with only reversible decreased kidney function as an aftereffect.
Hopefully, one day he’ll thank Benji for finding him.
“He’s shooting up as well, isn’t he?” Maddi finally speaks. Spinning to face her, I drop Joel’s chart back into the tray hanging on the end of the bed.
“I saw track marks today.” Sitting next to her, I pat her arm. She’s shell-shocked. “He doesn’t look malnourished or particularly unhealthy. My best guess would be that he’s only just transitioned to injecting.”
“He promised he’d stop. He said he’d never shoot up. I can’t believe it’s come to this.” Sniffling, her bottom lip quivers as she continues. “And Lacey. What am I going to do about her? She’s been through so much, getting sucked into Benji’s downward spiral is the last thing she needs.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pull her head to me, patting her back as she cries. I can honestly say that I’ve never comforted anyone like this before.
Overt displays of emotion are discouraged in my family—with emphatic sternness—by my father.
“You mentioned Connor before. What’s the story there?” I ask when Maddi pulls away, wiping her face with the bottom of her shirt.
“She was his Old Lady. He cheated on her constantly with Sherri. Any of the Club whores really. He didn’t even bother to hide it after a while. She’ll never admit it, but I’m pretty sure he used to hit her sometimes too. When he split after he turned rat, he left her with a heap of debt and a broken heart.”
“That’s horrible—”
We don’t have a chance to discuss it further because Smoke comes back with our lunch.
Handing out wraps and coffees—informing me that mine is decaf because of the baby and ducking when I pretend to hit him for it—he dominates the conversation with general chitchat. A feeling of belonging settles into the pit of my belly as their inside jokes are explained to me, and they fill me in on some of Lucas’s more wild escapades in his late teens.
LUCAS
Present Day
“Fucking hell, Mad Dog. You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
Pacing around Beast’s vacant office, I crack my knuckles and jam my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. Resisting the urge to punch something—namely Mad Dog for coming up with such a stupid idea—I turn to our fathers.
“What do you two think?”
“I think it’s the best option we’ve got at the moment. If he doesn’t talk, we’re fucked,” my dad answers quickly.
Viking nods his accord, looking worse today than he did last
night. The tight lines around Mad Dog’s eyes tell me that he notices as well.
“Fighting him for custody of Matty and Lachie. How’s that gonna work?”
“Guilt. We’re gonna guilt him with Alanah, guilt him with Lainey. Guilt him with every fucking thing we can throw at him. Use his good, old Irish, Catholic guilt against him.”
I throw my hands in the air. I can’t hold my tongue any longer so I tell him what I think, “For the record, I think it’s a stupid fucking idea. Have you told Princess what you’re planning? She’ll need to be on board for this to work.”
“Ah, not yet.” Indecision crossing his face, I laugh at the dumb fucker.
“You’re a fucking dead man. She’s gonna rip you a new one.”
“Madelaine will agree. She loves those boys,” Wendy’s quiet voice interrupts. Closing the office door behind her, she pats Viking’s cheek on her way past. Sympathy in her soft eyes, she measures his condition. “You shouldn’t be worrying about this, Victor. You should be resting.”
Grimacing when Wendy refers to him by his given name, the rest of us laugh at him. Wendy refuses to call any of us by our road names—fuck, she refuses to even shorten our names. It’s not too bad for me, but Mad Dog and Maddi hate their names so their annoyance is always fun to mock. She only gets away with it because we all love her. Along with my mama, she mothers all of the younger men—washing our clothes, cleaning the Clubhouse, and fixing our meals.
“The boys are going to be unhappy when they find out what happened to their sister. Patrick will need to prepare himself for that. It won’t stay a secret for long,” Wendy continues, busying herself with rearranging the paperwork on the desk—not meeting our eyes. “I’m looking for a house. They can live with me until they decide if they want to move in with Mikhail and Madelaine or whatnot.”
Shit. I’m speechless.
“You’re leaving him?” Dad asks the obvious question.
“Of course, Colin. This has been a long time coming. I’m sure you would agree.” Her answer is firm—too firm. Not an iota of doubt can be heard.
Lifting his chin in answer to her question, Dad shrugs when I raise my eyebrow at him. I never saw this coming. I’d bet none of us did. The two of them always seemed solid to me, in spite of Beast’s hair-trigger temper, and increasingly erratic, fucked-up-ness.
This is just something else to rock the foundation of the Club.
It keeps getting better and better.
***
“It’s fucking simple. We get the details of your deal with the Mavericks. You get to walk from the Club with your life and your sons’ respect. And Alanah might stop turning in her grave from the shit you’ve pulled—eventually.” Mad Dog’s laying it on thick, determined to use guilt rather than violence to end this.
Looking at Beast’s smug face, I’m left itching to add to the decorations Mad Dog left last night. I don’t recognize the asshole sitting across the table from me anymore.
“You think you’ve got it all sorted,” Beast scoffs.
We left him cooling his heels in the bar during our impromptu meeting in the office.
After Wendy’s bombshell, there was nothing much left to say. This plan’s as good as any for the moment. With the Mavericks and Connor still in the bunker, their President’s body turning stiff next to them, and Sherri still out there as a potential loose cannon, we need to gain an advantage.
Right fucking now.
“Not at all. Just trying to fix your fuck up.”
“Not my fuck up. Yours.”
“Let’s agree to disagree.”
Watching their exchange like a bad game of ping-pong, my eyes going from one end of the table and back to the other as they volley back and forth, my temper reaches breaking point.
“Just tell us the fucking truth!” Banging my fist on the table, I push to my feet. Unable to control myself anymore, I’m around the table with a handful of his shirt in my grip before anyone can stop me.
“You owe this Club, you fucking cunt. You put my Old Lady in danger. My kid in danger. You sacrificed Princess for what? To walk away like a pussy now? Man the fuck up and spit it out, or you’re gonna be on the receiving end of the tactics you’ve had me employ for you over the years.”
Shaking with rage, I haul him closer. My misgivings from last night have been answered. If I need to, I will make him bleed for answers.
“Lachie and Matty are the least of your problems right now. You’re one step from the reaper, if I have anything to say about it.”
“Step down, Timber.”
Throwing Beast back into his seat, I step down like Mad Dog orders.
Picking out Dad’s face from the sea of my brother’s filling the room, I’m surprised when he nods at me, respect and admiration covering his face.
“Nice to see Mad Dog still has you by the balls,” Beast laughs, mocking me. “You telling me to man the fuck up, that’s fucking rich.”
Shaking my head, I return to my seat, not having a clue what he’s laughing about.
Every time he opens his mouth, he makes me more determined to get my hands on him. He’s lost the plot—no longer the man who helped teach me about brotherhood, loyalty, and respect.
“Just walk away, you piece of shit. You think I betrayed the Club, betrayed my brothers? I might have, but I did it to save the Club. You, on the other, hand. Every time you look at my daughter, every time you think about what it would feel like to fuck her, every time you think about what she’d look like with your mark on her, with your patch on her, you betray your brothers more than I ever have. What’s got you so worked up? Huh? Your new Old Lady and kid being in danger? Or your Princess being involved?”
Fuck!
This is vintage Beast—divide and conquer with something as close to the truth as you can get.
Bowing my head, I wait for Mad Dog’s reaction.
Body tense.
Heart pounding.
I know what Beast’s saying is partly true—a truth that I never wanted my best friend to learn.
Snickering breaks out through the assembled men, making me lift my head and look around.
Mad Dog starts clapping—slow, measured, mocking claps. “Nice try.”
Turning to me with a smile on his face he chuckles, still clapping. “How many times have we watched him do this to some poor fucker?”
Relief coursing through me, I laugh at his question. “Too many fucking times.”
The Chapel erupts with laughter. Beast shakes his head, a strange—almost proud—smile on his face. I want to put my fist through his face, especially when I catch Mad Dog’s eye for a moment.
He knows Beast’s telling the truth, but he’s choosing to deny him the reaction he seeks.
“Beast, let’s cut the shit,” Viking speaks up when the room dies down.
Palms down on the table, he pushes himself into a standing position. “You’re my brother, no matter what you’ve done. I know you. You did what you thought was right. I refuse to die with this Club in limbo. Tell me what you know. Give a brother peace before he goes.”
Mad Dog closes his eyes at his father’s words, swallowing visibly when his dad continues. The effort it takes Viking to speak is evident; his voice is hoarse, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tries to maintain his stance.
“I’ll make sure the boys let you walk, if that’s what you want. I’ll make them stop the custody shit. I can even keep your kids out of it. Maddi, too. Just give us what you know. We can’t go in blind.”
Viking’s standing in the MC is such that nobody makes a noise, the room silent as he has his say. Nobody speaks when he falls into his seat, Mad Dog rushing to his side to make him comfortable.
As an ex-President, his words hold weight. As a dying brother, his wishes mean everything.
Beast looks around the room, his eyes losing some of their hardness as he regards the men he led until last night. Shoulders slumped in defeat, he barks out a defeated laugh. Swiveling in his chair, he addre
sses Mad Dog, his tone noticeably more civil than it has been in months.
“It won’t change a damn thing, but I’ll tell you. After that, you choose what the fuck happens. To me. To the Club. I want out.”
Glancing at his frail father when Beast finishes speaking, Mad Dog breathes a long sigh.
Of relief? Irritation? I can’t read his expression. He’s not meeting my eyes.
“Jesus fucking Christ. About fucking time.”
Running his hands through his hair, he narrows his eyes at Beast. “Start talking. Don’t leave out a fucking thing. You’ve cost us enough time.”
Ignoring Mad Dog’s barb, Beast leans back in his chair.
It’s just a normal seat, not the President’s spot. That was left vacant for today’s meeting. Mad Dog refused to sit in it, assuming control of the meeting from his usual VP position.
Arms behind his head, he begins. “The night baby girl shot that fucker we organized a clean-up for the mess at your house and the Compound.”
He nods at Mad Dog when he mentions the mess at his house.
“We didn’t have enough men to go around, not with the ones I’d left back at the farm with Wendy and the boys and you two dealing with baby girl. I sent Benji with the group to your house. Told him to run the show. Make sure the house was clean and to use the van to drop the body back at the farm for the pigs.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lenny snaps.
“He needed to start stepping up. He’s gonna be President one day.”
“Bullshit, he is,” my father interjects. Agreement fills the room. “He’s a fucking druggie. Hasn’t even prospected or paid his dues. Done fuck all.”
“Fuck you, Conan. He’s the eldest O’Brien boy. We started the Club, we lead the Club,” Beast argues, pointing a finger at Dad who looks ready to throw down right now.
Dissent breaks out, Beast’s proclamation going down like a lead fucking balloon. That’s because it’s bullshit. Most of today’s brothers are second or third generation Shamrocks who’ve already paid their dues.
The O’Briens didn’t start the Black Shamrocks by themselves.
Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) Page 22