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"Connor, step back, man," Tosh said, pushing Connor back and breaking Zep’s line of sight in an attempt to diffuse the intensity of the confrontation.
Sonny's gaze met Zep's, full of understanding yet firm, silently communicating that he shouldn’t turn on one of his own.
“Fine.” Connor threw his hands in the air and headed for the door, with Tosh hard on his heels.
Zep scrubbed his hand over his face, dragging air into his lungs and fighting for control. He shouldn't have gone for Connor, but fuck, the prick was relentless when it came to his opinion of how he was handling the situation with Rachel and Abby.
“Jacko filled me in.” Sonny had stepped back, leaning against the wall. The table stood between them. “It doesn’t sound like Isobel got to her, man.”
Zep nodded, his vision beginning to clear.
“The way I see it,” Sonny continued, “whatever’s going on with Rachel, her position’s just become more vulnerable.”
Tension clawed across his shoulders.
“She’s easier to get to in a public hospital, and a whole lot harder to protect.”
Zep could feel Sonny’s eyes on him.
“It’s only a matter of time before Isobel finds out she’s in hospital. And I’m not sure how our boys could explain their presence outside her room.”
There was a reason Sonny was VP. He was calm and organised, with a way of breaking down a problem into its most basic elements. Connor’s concerns made Zep feel like a failure, whereas Sonny spoke without any hint of judgement.
He turned to face his VP. “You’re right.” He smoothed his moustache between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s been thirty years.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d remember you.”
Zep snorted. “Remembering’s one thing. Walking back into her life is a whole other kettle of fish.”
“And Abby?”
“She’s never wanted to know me.”
Sonny shrugged. “How do you know?”
Zep ran his hand through his hair. “She’s never looked for me. I doubt she even knows I exist.”
“Does that piss you off?”
He shook his head, turning the question over in his mind. “I never wanted to be a father.” He looked Sonny in the eye. “And I’m not.”
Sonny held his gaze. “The fact remains, she’s your blood. You’re not some non-ranking member, Zep. You're the president. That’s why Isobel is going after Abby and Rachel. Whether they like it or not, those women warrant our protection.”
Zep picked up the chair he’d knocked over and placed it under the table, leaning his hands on its back. He studied the sanded down tabletop, unable to fault Sonny’s argument. Zep had lived his life in a way that made it near impossible to target him personally. His life was The Devils, and The Devils were his life. Yet Peter Isobel had found his Achilles heel.
“You need to talk to Rachel,” said Sonny.
Zep nodded, even though he had no idea how to break a silence that had lasted more than half his life.
Chapter 8
Rachel was largely incoherent on the ride to Emergency, which left Abby to try and explain her mother’s symptoms to the paramedics and doctors. How much had she missed? Her mum had obviously been hiding what was going on for it to get this bad. But why? Was Rachel ignoring the symptoms, even though Abby had tried talking to her about her loss of appetite and weight?
Tests were ordered. Abby paced the corner of the crowded waiting room while Scott sat in a hard, plastic chair, his knee bouncing up and down.
Eventually a doctor appeared, introducing herself as Dr. Carchedi. She led them into a sparsely decorated consulting room. Abby and Scott sat in chairs across the table from the doctor.
“We’ve managed to get the vomiting under control but I’d like to admit your mother and run some more tests.” Her large brown eyes shone with concern.
