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The house still smelled like her perfume, even if it had only been faint. It was nice coming home to that, rather than just Bert. I realized I’d left him outside, but decided he would be okay long enough for me to shower.

I grabbed one of the pills from the bottle on the night stand and carried it into the bathroom with me. I snagged one of the paper cups and filled it with a bit of water from the sink to get the pill down.

It took a few sips but I managed with a shudder. I turned on the shower to let the water heat up and headed back to the bedroom. I’d been so scatter brained that I didn’t have any clothes put away in my dresser. I left the shower going and trotted through the place in search of the clean laundry basket.

All was well, until I leaned down to grab a sock.

The world spun and my face grew hot. I sat down on the edge of the sofa and gripped the arm of it while I tried to focus my vision.

Chapter Eighteen

Frequent Flier Miles

C.C.

I groaned against the strong blend of sterilized metal, hand sanitizer, and cleaning chemicals that assaulted the inside of my nose and invaded my airway.

A machine blipped.

My mind fractured into images of Brenna at the funeral that never developed beyond a blur before pain ricocheted my thoughts to vivid flashes of Chef and Darla arguing at their wedding. Something icy raced from my wrist to the crook of my arm and I could have sworn I felt Patrick sliding my last sobriety coin onto the palm of my hand and closing my fingers around it. The flicker of memories went out with a sharp bolt of pain, darkness, and a sickening thud.

I wasn’t sure if it was a memory of maybe it was the memory of my head striking something.

Had I fallen down?

I couldn’t cling to consciousness long enough to find answers.

Weight pressed at my ankles, and spread up to my nipple line.

A warm feeling settled over me, and a voice greeted me through the fog.

A familiar, southern accent that calmed me enough to stop fighting the dazed, dream-like state.

“You’ve been so good to her. To them. You’re an amazing friend, probably the best I ever had.”

The weight of his hand holding those fingers securely over that coin was so real I could feel the plastic ridge. They’d always reminded me of pieces to a checkers board, only more decorative.

“This isn’t ethical. I never should have let you do this to begin with. Enough is enough. This is the last time.” The strange voice broke through my haze, and I fought against the weight at my chest.

It was beyond frustrating. I pushed with all my might, but it didn’t budge.

“Fine, last time. Leave us.” The return of Patrick’s voice settled me, another cool wave running up my arm as I gave in to the cloud-like surface beneath me.

“He was such a good brother. Such a protector, and example.” The words, a distant mumble became more distinguished as he went on, “I know he killed that man to protect me. I know who he was, I know what he was. I understand, I can accept that. This business with Cook– er Chef… Jesus Christ. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Cole?”

He sounded so torn and distressed. I wanted to ask what I could do, but all I could manage was a heavy huff.

He sniffled, sucked in a deep breath and began to speak with a bit more composure, “You did right by the vote. I know. I know what happened to Bren. I was furious, but… All things considered, it had to be this way. I need you to protect them, Cole. The Valentino family isn’t going to relent on this alliance. They will push deals for whatever they can to sink their claws into your club. Not because it’s lucrative, or because it benefits their organization in any kind of way whatsoever on a street or business level. Their only goal at this point is to get revenge and create as much pain and devastation as they can for anyone who associates with Victor.”

I’d voted against the alliance.

The alliance was dead.

Slutty Benji and Vick had leant enough weight behind me and Montana to squash that shit.

“I wouldn’t put it past Mark to sacrifice Victor if it meant he could rake in the extra profits, and bump elbows with that kind of power.”

Mark was a cold bastard. He was a brother. A man I respected when he was thinking right. And yet, more than one thing could be true at once. He was heartless when he had his mind set on something and obstacles presented.