Page 19 of Queen Crow
As Lips pulls herself up to sit on the countertop with a complete disregard for the place, Ash glances around and then pulls out his phone, tapping away at the screen as he sends out a text message. He’s not usually this involved, but the time away has set some things very straight in his head.
Lips is the Wolf, she will always be the Wolf, and if he truly wants to keep her safe, he needs to find his own place at her side as an asset. Harley decided that medicine is his calling, his way of contributing.
Ash was never cut out to just be the muscle, he was always going to be more active than that.
There’s a crashing noise from upstairs and then the sounds of footsteps, frenzied and thumping, as Police Chief George Drummond makes his way into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an old pair of boxer briefs.
I want to gouge my eyeballs out at the sight of him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my house? I’ll have you all on charges for this!” he roars as he steps up, a gun in one hand, but when he finally gets a good look at who it is he’s facing, the blood drains from his face.
I’m not sure if it’s Harbin, strapped up with an entire militia worth of weapons, or Ash, who looks almost identical to Senior, who has him shitting himself but as always, he’s misidentified the real danger because Lips and I are the ones holding his life in our hands right now.
We decide if he lives or dies tonight.
I look around the kitchen, my face its usual cold mask, and say, “Is this how you treat your houseguests? Your hospitality is certainly lacking. I’m here on some unfinished business we need to get straight. I don’t have your daughter, Drummond, and I’m not sure if she’s still alive, but for a price, I’ll get her back for you.”
He’s sweating, his eyes on Harbin like this is his worst nightmare come true, and Lips swings her legs from the counter top. It’s such a small and careless movement to the eye, but she’s making sure this asshole knows his life means absolutely nothing to us.
Either he’s useful and alive, or a liability and dead, leaving his daughter without anyone looking for her. She’s so close to just being a statistic, a number we all hear about on the news of the hundreds of thousands of women that go missing every year in this country.
“You know who has her?”
I incline my head. “I ran into her at a party. She has made friends with someone no girl ever wants to know. You should be prepared for the amount of damage she’ll have, the therapy you’ll need to pay for.”
He grabs a tissue from the box on the counter without an inch of shame as he dabs it over his forehead, muttering, “Fine. Fine, I’ll work for you like I did for your father. It’s not so bad, and if we keep it as business, then everything will be different this time around.”
I chuckle and share a look with Lips. “It’ll definitely be different this time around, Drummond. For starters, we’re not paying you. This isn’t a job—I’m not putting you on a bribe roster. You owe me a lot of money, and you’ll be paying this blood debt until you die. If you’re lucky, I won’t pass that debt on to Lauren when you’re gone.”
His eyes flick around the room and the gross, gaudy new riches of this place have never stood out so much. A Police Chief salary isn’t going to cut it to keep this place. I already know what his finances look like; I know all about his wife’s shopping addiction and the holidays they love taking. I know he drinks and gambles too much.
I know he’s drowning under this mortgage without Senior’s blood money.
“If I’m going to be an informant, I’m going to need compensation,” he says, frowning and growing a backbone now that we’re talking about money.
Lips smirks and swings her legs a little harder. “You mean your life isn’t compensation enough? What about your wife? Is her life enough?”
He has to dab at that sweat of his again as it starts to run down his temples. “Do you have any idea how much I’m risking by doing this for you?”
Harbin scoffs and Drummond startles, looking over at him again and almost shitting himself when the biker speaks to him. “He’s not worth it, you should just replace him. There’s enough decent candidates to cut him out.”
Drummond starts to shake and then snaps, “I’ll do it. Just get out of my house, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
Chapter Six
I’m convinced that the reason the Twelve drag the Game out for months is so they’re able to take out each other’s sponsored candidates before the Game even starts and start petty little wars with each other.
There’s no other reason I can think of to spread the fights out so much, and I find myself frustrated beyond all belief the evening of the next Game. I want this to be over, I want it to be the last time I’m forced into a space with the other members and their little followers for at least the next six months, but there’s still one more session to go through after this. I’m ready to just wipe the board clean of them all, start fresh with a new group of people who are all firmly under our thumb.
We should start something new, start an institution of the Bay with only our family so that we own the streets with no other competition.
Something to consider once things quieten down and Atticus wakes up.
I ride over to the warehouses with Aodhan in the Impala, enjoying the subdued quiet as I work on my phone. There’s a respectful air around us, like we’re both so far on edge that we’re holding ourselves on the line for each other alone. His hand rests on my knee, only moving when he needs to change gears, and I do my best not to disturb him with my tapping on my phone as he gets his head into the right space. I understand the need to prepare for whatever it is that tonight throws at us.
The last time we came here, my heart was ripped out and stomped on, thanks to the Bear and his manipulations killing Jack. It’s different this time around, and not only because Atticus isn’t here.
No.