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Sam pulled over an extra chair. I set it next to my spot at the table. Brody, Jackson, and Sam all took their places.
I was oddly proud of our table. It made my inner child excited, as I pretended it was King Arthur’s Round Table, but with guns instead of swords and bikes instead of horses.
Caroline looked to me for guidance, as if I needed to tell her what to do at every step. I was happy to guide her—anything to keep the peace. I laced my fingers with hers under the table.
“This is ridiculous,” one of the guys muttered. I couldn’t determine which one. I was too busy watching Caroline staring at Sam’s big, round belly. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she trying to understand the scope of what was at stake for the Devils?
Sam slapped her hand on the wooden table to call for attention, as if she were King Arthur and not President Black Jack. “All right. You fuckers remember this is my bar. What I say goes—got it?”
Most of the members nodded reluctantly.
“Good.” Sam turned to Caroline, pinning her with a hard, unreadable stare. “If whatever plan you have to pitch goes sideways, you’ll answer for it—with blood.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Are you sure you want to risk that, Miss Bates?”
Mason snorted derisively and slammed his beer bottle on the table, startling the women, but he didn’t care. “She won’t pay a price if she’s in on this with her father. Like I said, this could be the perfect infiltration. This could have been Bates’s plan all along—find a crack they can wiggle their way into.”
My VP looked at me. “Looks like she found ours.”
“Mason,” Suzie said in an accusatory tone.
“What?” he fired back. “She ensnares our brother way too quickly, and the next thing we know, Gabriel’s dead. Because he helped you survive.”
He glared a hole in Caroline’s forehead with so much hurt and hate that it made my chest feel like it was stuck in a vise.
A couple of the guys reacted, nodding or muttering under their breath. Grant, however, didn’t move. Just stared at the table like it had all the answers.
A whole slew of emotions clouded my head. All my brothers doubted me. I was loyal to these guys as a person, friend, and club member, and now my own VP was implying I was the weak link that let Caroline sneak her way into our club.
It was a damn ugly accusation.
And it got under my skin.
Even worse, what if it was true?
What if Caroline was just a plant, and this whole thing was set up from the beginning? It could have been a perfect act, a perfect play, winning the award of ending the Devil’s Luck once and for all from the inside out.
Not only all that, but he was blaming Gabriel’s death on her. I had spent a week trying to convince her it wasn’t her fault. There was no way I would let it be unraveled by Mason’s insinuations.
Caroline’s fingers squeezed mine. I didn’t know if it was in reassurance or in warning not to do something stupid, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t, when I was wondering if this was all just one big lie. Could I have been duped that easily?
“No in-fighting,” Sam suddenly snapped, glaring at Mason, who was so surprised that he sat. “We’re not like the Wolverines. We’re not animals. We talk like adults and figure shit out civilly to protect our own.”
Sam’s hand rubbed her belly. She tipped her head toward Elle’s. Poor Elle looked ready to bolt.
Sam turned her glare on Jackson. “I’m still mad at you for punching Knox. Look at the bastard’s poor face. You’d better feel guilty for hitting your own club member, or you’re sleeping on the couch.”
Some of the guys hid snorts behind their hands. Damn, it was funny seeing Sam boss big bad Black Jack around like he wasn’t the shit.
Jackson’s look turned murderous. Everyone sat straight up like they were kids scolded by a teacher. But he didn’t make eye contact with me or Caroline. “Sam, baby,” he said measuredly, “our second biggest enemy is sitting in our midst?—”
“Yes, and?”
“And—”
“I have an answer to your question, Miss Lye.”
Everyone whipped around to look at Caroline. She was sitting ramrod straight, chin lifted, confidence burning in those gorgeous blue eyes. She had bought some cheap makeup from the thrift store, but she made it look good. Classy. Badass, but not like she was trying to make herself look like a whore with a smoky eye or some shit.
Sam sat up straighter, even if she winced from the pull on her stomach. “I would love to hear it, Miss Bates.”