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“Okay,” I said slowly. “Why’d you get Charmer?”

He shot me an incredulous look, as if it were a stupid question.

Perhaps itwasa stupid question.

I had known the man all but two minutes and I could understand the name choice.

“Fine,” I relinquished. “What about Bull? That’s quite specific.”

“I’m big,” Bull said plainly, but shuffled in his seat a little.

I narrowed my eyes at him, noticing the way his cheeks seemed to go a little rosy under his beard.

“What else?”

Charmer threw his head back in laughter that told me I was right. That his size could not be the only factor in the choice of name.

“Cause he’s a ham-fisted fuckin’ giant,” Charmer gestured towards the hulking man. “Don’t let the muscles fool ya, he’s not coordinated in the slightest.”

Bull leaned forward a little to shove a warning finger in Charmer’s face, knocking his glass off the table with his elbow as he did it.

“Like a bull in a china shop,” Ashe clarified with a chuckle as the schooner hit the floor and smashed and shattered into pieces.

“Sorry!” Bull put his hands up, apologising to the woman behind the bar who was shaking her head at him as if this was not the first time this had happened.

He quickly stood (knocking the table with his knee as he did) and retrieved the dust pan from behind the counter (he knew exactly where it was) to clean up the mess.

“Okay,” I pressed my lips together, trying not to chuckle as hard as the others at Bull’s misfortune. “What about Ashe, aka,Henny?”

Ashe’s smile dropped a little, and focused then on fiddling with the paper coaster in front of him. Charmer’s eyes flickered towards his friend, as if asking for permission to tell the story before he did.

“I smashed a bottle of Hennesey over a guy’s head,” Ashe answered, to my surprise.

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” I said slowly, because I could sense there was more to the story.

“It was King,” Charmer finally added with a huff of almost-laughter.

“Oh,” my eyebrows shot up. “The old president?”

Ashe nodded.

“King liked to run his mouth,” Charmer said with a roll of his eyes and a bite to his tone. “But he also… He didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He took it a little too far with one of the bar chicks that used to work at the clubhouse back in the day, and I guess Ashe was feeling a little suicidal that night.” He huffed another laugh, but it wasn’t quite out of amusement.

“So you smashed a bottle over the president’s head and still got to stay part of the MC?”

Ashe offered a half-smile. “I paid for it.”

Charmer’s smile was gone.

I didn’t want to ask anymore questions. Didn’t want to know what Ashe had been put through for standing up for someone. I had heard the stories about how King treated his enemies. I could only imagine what he would have done to someone who was under his control, supposed to be loyal to him.

“But hey,” Charmer perked up again, but it seemed a little forced. “The fucker is dead now, so who gives a shit?”

“I’ll cheers to that,” I lifted my drink and Charmer clinked his glass against it.

So, even the Redliners didn’t like King?

Did my brother know this? What did that mean for the future of the Redliners? For the future of my family?