Page 40

The day after I took Birdie and the kids back to the house, I asked her if she’d like to plan a club cookout.

It’s been so fucking long since we’ve had one and with all the shit that’s been going on around us lately, we need something peaceful.

Something that gives us some time to fucking breathe before having to dive back into the chaos of Frankie’s bullshit.

She was so damn excited that I wanted to put that look of happiness on her face every day.

Here it is a week later, and she’s got this place bumping with music, beer, delicious fucking food, and our family.

Kids run around with water guns, laughter bright on their face as they pelt each other with streams of water. The sneaky little shits make sure to get all of us with those damn weapons, too.

Legend’s laugh bursts from his chest when he sprays me straight in the face before running off. He assumes I’m going to let him get away with a sneak attack.

Does he not know who his father is?

With a wicked smile, I head to the water hose.

“Apollonos Dugan Brannigan, what in the world do you think you’re going to do?” Birdie asks, her hands on her curvy-as-fuck hips.

Well, I was going to get my son with the water hose, but I found a much more delicious target.

I turn on the spigot and lift the hose, crimping it so no water comes out yet. Then I turn to her.

She must see it on my face because her eyes widen as she shakes her head, backing away with a laugh. “Don’t you dare, Pope.”

Birdie lets out a squeal when I release the crimp from the hose and aim it at her. Everyone stops to watch as she runs through the arch of water straight at me.

Her laughter is the most beautiful damn sound in the world.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she says through gasps, reaching out to grab hold of the hose.

We both get drenched as she tries to take it from me and we’re both laughing so hard we suck water down our throats when the spray catches our faces.

Others join the fight as brothers grab buckets and fill them. Ol’ ladies let out happy screams when their men dump water over their heads. Kids run around shooting whoever they can, tossing down their weapons when they’re empty for someone else to scoop up to fill back up.

We’re soaked, but we’re all having the fucking time of our lives.

Lovelyn comes running over, and Birdie snatches her up into her arms.

Our girl is kicking, squirming, and laughing as her mom turns her my way.

“Get her, Dad,” Birdie teases.

“No, Daddy. No,” Lovelyn says through laughter.

I hold the hose over her head so the water rains down on her.

Her cute-as-fuck giggles fill empty spots in my dark soul.

Then I’m pelted in the back with streams of water. The little boyish laugh lets me know my son has joined the fray.

I spin around with a playful growl. “Shooting a man while he’s not looking gives you an unfair advantage, son.” Then I catch him in the face with the stream. “Now, what are you going to do?”

A mischievous expression crosses Legend’s face, then he backs away. He goes and goes until there’s a good three feet between us.

I keep my eyes on him because he’s my fucking kid and I just know he’s about to pull some shit.

Legend runs at me with a feral grin, and I brace myself for the impact. He rushes through the stream of water I use as a deterrent and wraps his arms around my thighs to take me down to the ground.

“Oh, we’re wrestling now, are we?” I laugh, tossing the hose to the grass. “Let’s go, little warrior.

I let him work hard at moving me as I smile at his grunts. The little man is fucking strong for his size, I’ll give him that.

What I’m not expecting is to be tag-teamed by my family.

Birdie sticks her foot out behind mine at the same time Lovelyn rushes around to help her brother shove.

My arm snakes around Birdie’s waist, and my other wraps around the twins as I fall back.

The backyard of the clubhouse goes silent as my big ass hits the ground with a loud groan before laughter fills the air.

As payback, I tickle them all, ignoring the twinge in my back from where I landed. The pain is fucking worth it to have this right here.

Their laughter.

I’ve just pulled a dry t-shirt over my shoulders when my phone rings. Grabbing it from the bed, I check the screen, my brows furrowing at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Brother, brother, brother. How the hell are you?” Frankie’s taunting voice replies.

“Pretty good now that I put a bullet in my mother’s head and watched our father’s throat be ripped out. How are you?”

Frankie hums. “Too bad I couldn’t be there to witness it after what he did to the person who gave birth to me.”

“Like father, like son, right, Frankie-boy?”

“I’m nothing like him,” he snaps.

“Delusional too, just like Eoghan, I see.” I put the phone on speaker long enough to slide my kutte over my shoulders. “Don’t worry, little guy. I’ll make sure you reunite with your father in hell. It’s only a matter of time. I’m coming for you, Frankie.”

“Tell me, Apollonos. Have you figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?” I ask reluctantly, pissed at myself for letting him goad me.

“That everything that has happened is because of you. What happened to your club in the past, me seeking Birdie out, all of it. It’s because of you. You don’t deserve any of it. It should be me. It should always have been me running the Saint’s Outlaws.”

My body goes rigid. “I’ve been the target the entire time?” I ask in an icy voice.

Hysteria tinges Frankie’s laugh. “Of course, you have. Haven’t you realized it yet? I fucking hate you, big brother. I want everything that you love.”

“The Steel Slayers?”

“Me,” he quips in a sinister tone.

“You’re Clink, Frankie?”

“Clink was I, and I was Clink,” he says in a riddle I have no fucking clue how to understand.

“The fucking Steel Slayers signed a goddamn peace treaty,” I growl, pacing around the room as my mind works through the puzzle Frankie puts before me.

He laughs that deranged laugh again. “Why wouldn’t they? Clink died five years ago.”

A headache forms behind my eyes from trying to decipher a puzzle I don’t have enough clues to.

I feel dumb as shit right now because there’s something I’m not seeing, not comprehending. So, I shove it to the back until I can call church.

“If it’s me you want, then leave Birdie and my fucking kids alone and come at me.”

Frankie snickers. “Tell you what. Since I love you so much, I’ll make a deal with you. If you meet up with me alone to fight and you win, I’ll leave your precious little family alone. You won’t win, but if you do, that’s the deal.”

“You want to challenge me to a fight? One-on-one? Alone? How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“Because I stand on my word.”

I won’t call bullshit out loud. Instead, I put the phone on speaker and put out a call for church in the council chat as I reply to Frankie.

“You have a deal. When and where?”

“You’ll come alone?”

“Sure. I don’t need my club to whoop your ass, Frankie.”

Just to kidnap you and bring you to the Slop ‘N’ Chop for a friendly chat.

Frankie gives me a location in the next city over and a date and time two days from now. The only thing I know about the place he chose is that there is no club affiliation with it, which is good for us. It means the only people we have to worry about is the law enforcement presence.

“Tootles, big brother. I’m looking forward to our visit.”

Psychotic motherfucker.

I’m glad I’m nothing like him.

I stare down at the silent phone as his words come back to me.

My fault.

All of it.

The men we lost through our fight with the Steel Slayers. Losing Birdie. The sexual and physical abuse Birdie went through. The abuse my kids witnessed. Losing out on the first six years of their life.

It all plays out through my mind.

How the fuck did I not see it?

It was right there in front of my face seven years ago, the way the attacks felt personal. We couldn’t find the connection, so we just assumed I was wrong.

Why the hell didn’t I listen to my gut?

My shoulders droop as the weight of my failures settle on them.

How can I walk out of here and look my brothers, my woman, my kids, in the eyes, knowing that if it wasn’t for me, their lives would be different?

Gavel walks past my room and peeks in. My posture must alert him because he comes inside and stands in front of me.

“What’s going on?”

“That was Frankie,” I tell him, monotone.

“What did that fuck have to say?”

“That it’s all on me.”

“All on you?”

I lift my eyes to meet his. “I was the target the entire time. The Steel Slayers, us losing brothers, him taking Birdie, all the shit she endured . . . it’s all because of me. How the fuck do I cope with that? How do I face everyone I love knowing I’m the motherfucking reason for all the hell?”

He flinches from whatever he sees on me before his face hardens.

“You buck the fuck up and know that you are not fucking responsible for what some sick piece of shit does. You didn’t force him to come after the club or Birdie.

You didn’t make him lay his hands on her.

You weren’t the ones who took the lives of our brothers.

There’s only one person who is responsible for all of that. ”

“Frankie,” I growl.

“Fucking Frankie.” Gavel curls his fingers around the back of my neck and rests his forehead on mine like he used to when I was younger. “I’m sorry you were born into such a shit family, kid.”

He releases me, and I shrug, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Don’t be. I like the one I’ve chosen for myself.” I sigh. “Come on. We’ve got church to go over the shit that’s about to go down.”

People like to say that blood is thicker than water, so you should always side with the ones you share DNA with.

Why would anyone try to force shit people on someone?

Just because they’re your family, your blood, doesn’t mean you owe them anything.

The full phrase is actually ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ Meaning that the bonds you choose, the people you choose, can be just as strong as familial ties.

Hell, sometimes, in my case, they’re fucking stronger.

The only good ones I share my blood with are my grandfather and my kids.

The rest of these fuckers? I’ve chosen them and I’ll continue to do so until the day I close my eyes for the last time.