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“Get fucking real.” Benji laughed, the sound dying off as he scanned the faces around the table. “Wh–? No!”

“Yeah, that’s a big fuckin’ no for me, too.” Vick nodded, before slapping the table like the matter was finished, “You think you can match me bottle for bottle?”

“Man,” Benji snorted, like it wouldn’t even be a contest. “Go on, youngin’ I’ll let you get headstart, and I’ll still leave you with your–”

“Shut the fuck up. I need this to go through,” Mark stressed, his hand cutting the air chopping block style.

“No,” Benji simply said, his voice even and unemotional. “What you need, is to go home to your wife and come back when you’re fuckin’ thinking right. How fucking ignorant can you be? The mob? And running pussy… What the hell are you even talking about, brother? That shit ain’t for us!”

Mark flung his chair toward the wall and marched out of the room.

I looked toward my brother. His shrug was something I felt in my soul. I gave a silent nod and followed Mark out of the clubhouse. He was so worked up he kicked the gravel a few feet from his bike, peppering the chrome with tiny pebbles in the process.

“What a dumbass,” I mumbled, under my breath.

Chapter Twelve

Outlaw Gatherings

Brenna

I woke up with a terrible headache, regretting that I’d missed mass, and those few precious moments of companionship. A gentle sigh escaped, as I recalled his playful banter back at the hospital.

I really wanted him and Victor to smooth out; I had been secretly hoping to invite Cole to dine with us some Sunday evening.

The thought brought a smile to my lips as I sat up, even the throbbing in my head couldn’t take it away, as I explored the area around the stitches with my fingers and headed for some coffee.

“Morning,” Victor greeted, from the kitchen table.

I let out a scream that made the throbbing intensify.

“Oh–” He held out his hand, raising from the seat, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for all that– Come sit down, Mama. Oak, get her some of those scrambled eggs and some juice.”

“Wha–?” I managed, but Victor wasn’t waiting for questions, he steered me to a seat, making me feel guilty about yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” Victor quietly asked, when he noticed my eyes misting.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered, unable to break my voice through the shame.

“For what?”

“Yesterday,” I brought my hand up to my mouth, only for it to be pinned when he drew me into a bear hug.

“Don’t be silly. Yesterday is gone, let’s start fresh today, hmm?”

I didn’t deserve to have a boy that forgiving, no one did. I closed my eyes and immediately felt the warmth of his hand against my cheek.

“We’re gonna be okay, Mom. Believe me.”

I smiled. The muscles of my face tensed against another wave of emotion that I desperately wanted to bury for the boys’ sake.

Victor patted my hand and leaned forward, drawing me into a bear hug as he mumbled, “There are worse clowns than C.C. Henshaw, I guess.”

My eyes shot open and I playfully shoved him away, keeping a side eye on him while he tried not to laugh.

“It’s good to have you home, baby.” I cupped his face.

Oakland was all smiles as he carefully carried my plate over and set it in front of you.