Page 4

4

Legacy

Four hours later, I’ve managed to shove Reagan from my mind long enough to survive a morning at the strip club. Nothing is less appealing than a room of drunk men pawing at topless women while the lukewarm breakfast bar gets cold, so I hide in the office and analyze the books until I have enough to make sense of them.

I barely make it back to the clubhouse in time for church, and still somehow end up being the first to arrive. Waiting while everyone else takes their sweet time like always.

My brothers care about the club, but they don’t have the same responsibilities that I do. Ones that exist outside of these walls. Ones that force me to actually care about what time it is, where I’m at, or who might be waiting for me.

Guess this comes with being the only single father in a new generation of club leadership. Most of the members haven’t settled down, and those who are attached have old ladies to help them out. Like Steel, who has Tempe to shoulder the responsibility of raising Austin.

Bea is mine and mine alone.

I’m her stability.

While previous generations set the example of knocking women up and passing their kids off like a burden for the old ladies to deal with until they were old enough to hold a gun, I’m trying to be different.

If Dad was still around, I’m sure he’d have plenty to say about that.

He wasn’t warm, fuzzy, or much of a father. He mentored me into my role as Treasurer of the Twisted Kings, and so long as I lived up to my name of being his legacy, that’s all that mattered.

Legacy .

It’s somehow both a curse and the very thing that defines me.

Which was fine until I held Beatrice King in my arms and watched her mother walk away.

My oath to the club says my brothers should come before everything else, but one look into my baby girl’s eyes, and I knew moving forward nothing would come before her. I’d do anything to keep her safe.

With Margaret moving in to help, it was working out fine. I figured I’d get Bea to her eighteenth birthday before anything would disrupt it. But then Margaret’s sickness rattled what seemed unshakable.

Resting my head against the back of my chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath .

Then another.

I try to count and find my center.

One. Two. Three. In.

One. Two. Three. Out.

I let it go.

I’ll fix this for her.

“Well, look who's up bright and early.” Chaos drops into the chair across the table from me with a smug grin on his face.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” I remind him.

He shrugs because, for him, that is early . “How's the farmer's daughter?”

“She’s from Glendale. Not a farm.”

“Well, that’s shitty. Farm girls are hot. And dirty.” He grins. “And they sure can ride a bull…”

While I was born and raised under the neon lights of Las Vegas, Chaos grew up on his family’s ranch, so I’m sure he knows. Still, I’m not entertaining this conversation.

“Fuck off.”

“Well, that’s a mood.” Soul walks into the room chuckling.

Havoc and Ghost trail behind him, both watching me.

“Legacy’s still pissy about the hot little farmgirl who walked into the clubhouse last night,” Chaos teases.

“Not a farmgirl,” I repeat.

It’s going to be a long afternoon at this rate.

I lean back in my chair, glaring at the men taking their seats around me. As much as I’d like them to let this go, I know them better than to think they actually will .

“She’s got your panties in a twist, Legacy. I like her.” Soul hums, smirking at me. “You know how to fix the problem and get her out of your system, right?”

“By ignoring any stupid advice that’s about to come out of your mouth.”

Soul doesn’t pause. “Bending her over and working out the tension.”

“Helpful as always.” Havoc chuckles, pulling his dark hair into a knot at the base of his skull.

“I’m just saying”—Soul shrugs—“there’s only one guaranteed way to get over whatever the girl’s doing to you—fuck her out of your system.”

“She’s Margaret’s great-niece. I’m not fucking her.” I level him with a stare. “Besides, she’s not my type.”

The room erupts in laughs because I’m full of shit.

They know it.

I know it.

But Ghost is the one to actually say it. “I love you like a brother, man. But that’s straight-up bullshit.”

“You’re just pissed I was right about you and Luna.”

He shakes his head, knowing I’m deflecting.

I miss when Ghost was as bitter as I am. When he’d have my back because he was just as miserable and determined to be alone. Single Ghost was easier to deal with because he understood. Now he’s a walking, talking reminder of all the things I’ll never have if I want to protect my daughter.

He and Steel can shove their eternal happiness. Just because they got lucky enough to find someone willing to put up with the club’s bullshit doesn’t mean I will .

And even if I did, I don’t want it.

Luckily, Steel walks into church, cutting off any small talk as he closes the door behind him. “Where are we at with the money we drained from the Iron Sinners?”

He takes his seat at the head of the table, and I appreciate that he’s straight to the point, effectively shutting down my brothers teasing me about Reagan.

“I’m housing the funds offshore for the time being.” I lean forward, clasping my hands on the table. “Then I’ll slowly siphon it back into the country through our business accounts that primarily deal in cash, like the strip club and the tattoo parlor. Anywhere that won’t throw up red flags with the government over an influx of cash deposits.”

Steel nods, patting the pocket he used to keep his cigarettes, like he often does out of habit before he remembers he quit. “Good.”

“But…” I clear my throat. “It’s more than we anticipated.”

“How much more?” Steel hitches an eyebrow.

“The account had one point five million when I initially drained it, and we’ve almost doubled that these past few months with the auto transfer Ghost set up once we had the routing information.”

“They haven’t closed the account yet?” Steel’s shoulders tense. “That much cash, and they haven’t even noticed?”

I shake my head. “They must have been saving it for something specific. They’ll figure it out eventually. But for now, funds are still being deposited, and when they do, they get transferred to us. We got another five hundred grand this morning. It’s a lot of cash.”

Steel leans back. “Zane wouldn’t be that liberal with his donations unless they’re up to something.”

“I don’t think the money came from Zane.”

“I thought that’s what the Iron Sinners were using that bank account for.” His eyebrows pinch. “That’s why we hit it in the first place. To piss off Zane for sending the feds to raid our compound while also fucking over the Iron Sinners. Two birds, one stone.”

“The initial million-dollar deposit was from Zane, yes.” I pop my knuckles. “I traced that back to one of his casinos. He split a portion of the profits from a fight night with the Iron Sinners. But after that, the money has continued to come in, but I can’t trace any of it back to him.”

“Where’s it coming from then?”

“Still working on that.”

Havoc leans forward. “They just opened up a new strip club. Wicked Pole. New profits, maybe?”

“If it is, they’re making four times a night what we do on a Saturday night at Sapphire Rise.”

Chaos chuckles, shaking his head. “Not possible.”

Chaos runs point for the strip club, so he’s defensive whenever it comes up. And in this case, he’s also right.

“We’re in a prime location on the Strip,” Chaos continues. “Their new joint is on the border of Vegas. There’s no way they’re making half what we do on a fucking Tuesday.”

“Agreed.” Steel looks around the room for answers .

“Unless…” Havoc clears his throat, and we all fall into silence as his thought dies on his tongue.

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence because we all know what he’s thinking. The Twisted Kings toe the line with the law daily, but we have moral limits. Things we refuse to take part in, like trafficking women.

Something the Iron Sinners aren’t above, as we’ve shut them down for it in the past.

“If that’s the case, this is going to get messy,” Steel points out. “Dismantling their businesses and intercepting their gun shipments is one thing, but our resources are already stretched for our own people. Taking on however many women the Iron Sinners are holding requires space and money. We don’t have that much room at the safe house.”

“Doesn’t mean we can just leave them there either. If the Iron Sinners are dealing in flesh, we can’t ignore it.” Havoc’s tone has bite.

Nothing puts the members of the club on edge like knowing our rivals have resorted to sex trafficking. But considering the things Havoc saw overseas in the military, and his years spent as sergeant at arms for the club, he’s especially triggered when these conversations come up.

“I’m not saying we ignore it,” Steel assures him. “I’m just saying that if the Iron Sinners are back to their old ways, we need to be prepared to help, or we’re no good to those women. ”

“Monroe could tip off the feds if it comes down to it,” Soul suggests. “Let them figure out how to handle the victims while we deal with Titan.”

Tanner Monroe is the club’s lawyer, and his connections with the feds come in handy when we’re frequently getting into hot water with them.

“It’s an option.” Steel nods. “I’m also going to touch base with Victor. The Road Rebels had this issue a few times with the Merciless Skulls in Albuquerque, so I know he’s got connections and people who can help. They owe us.”

Ghost grunts in agreement. He’s still cagey when Albuquerque gets brought up. It’s where he met Luna, and that particular war is a reminder of all the things that came after. He and Luna might be on the other side, but the wounds are raw.

“Keep digging into the bank deposits, and see if you can get any more info on where they’re coming from.” Steel turns from me to Havoc. “And get ready for this to turn bloody.”

Havoc nods, his jaw clenching.

“Get to it.” Steel dismisses the room, and everyone slowly filters out, except for Ghost, who stays seated, watching me.

After he ran a background check on Reagan for me last night, he texted to see how I was holding up. I ignored it but should have known better than to think he’d let it go.

“So, you got yourself a new nanny?” His eyebrow ticks.

“Temporarily.” I narrow my eyes when he smirks. “What did Luna say about her? They seemed to know each other pretty well when they saw each other last night.”

“Surprised you care with how temporary it is…”

My teeth clench at Ghost’s amusement, but I don’t bother responding to that because it will just add fuel to this shitshow of a fire I’ve got burning.

“Luna knows her from high school.” Ghost shrugs.

“Didn’t know Luna was from Glendale.”

“She’s from lots of places.”

It occurs to me how little I know about the woman my brother’s chosen to spend his life with. I know she grew up in the system, bouncing around foster homes, but that’s about it.

“Luna said Reagan’s good people. But if you want to know more, I’m sure you could ask her.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I brush my hair back off my forehead and stand up. “Maybe I will.”

I won’t.

Ghost knows it.

I know it.

I’ve got nothing against Luna, but it doesn’t matter what she says; I don’t trust people. Especially beautiful, cheery ones who refuse to go away when I tell them to.

“I’ve got to get back to the house. But I’ll catch up with you later.” I stand.

“Girl’s got fire, Jesse,” Ghost says, stopping me as I reach the door. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Trust me, it isn’t.” I shake my head. “We’ve got enough sunshine in Vegas. She can take that fire back to Arizona. ”

I’ve spent years building the ice-cold fortress that protects my daughter. No way in hell am I letting some pretty little spitfire melt her way through it.