Page 10 of Ruthless Reign

This was fucking Archer. The loss of him hit harder than I expected. He may not have been blood, but he was family. Like an uncle to us since we were still just a couple of kids. Dad’s best friend.

And that filth took him from us. Not only that, but he planned to take a hell of a lot more. The men would look to Dad for answers, hungry for retribution, and I honestly had no fucking idea what he was going to tell them. There wasn’t a single useful thought in my head. I could blame it on the sleep deprivation but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I wasn’t the idea man. I wasn’t the one dad or anyone turned to when they needed input. And it seemed that wouldn’t change today.

“We need to put the Irishman down,” Hardin all but growled, some of the rage Becca had managed to temper returning until I could see it like dark embers in his eyes.

I nodded, at least that we could agree on. It was the how that we needed to work out. “I’ll wait in the Bronco. Tell Becca to hurry up where were going to be late.”

I didn’t wait for him to answer me before snatching the keys off the counter and heading outside.

The back lot at Saint’s autobody was filled to the tits already when we arrived. A couple of the guys hung around the staff exit, talking quietly while they smoked their cigarettes. They lifted their heads to us in greeting as we passed through and noticed that each one of them looked just as fucked up as we did. Their eyes were bloodshot as if they’d been up all night with an eight ball of coke instead of watching over their families.

I didn’t miss the way they looked at Becca as she followed into the shop behind us with her head bowed. No doubt wondering why we were bringing a piece of ass to an official Saints meet with us. They didn’t know. And now was not the time for Damien St. Vincent to fill them in on the fact that he had a daughter. We could still have a leak. And even if we didn’t, the more people who knew the more likely it was to get out. Hardin and I had already put enough of a target on her back without adding that to the fucking mix.

Through the glass wall, I could see that the meat room was already filled with people. Dad wasn’t in there yet, even though I saw his car outside. Hardin gestured to the little row of red chairs outside of the room, and Becca folded herself into one. We’d be able to see her from inside, but even having only a glass wall to separate us was making me uncomfortable as shit.

This Irish fucker seem to know so much about us, what if he knew this was our meeting place? What if the walls were already filled with explosives? What if they were just waiting for their opportunity to descend on us when they knew we would all be together in one place without our families?

“I’m going to do a quick sweep,” Hardin said gruffly from beside me, as if his mind had gone to the same dark places mine had.

Normally, I’d go with him, but there was no way in hell I was leaving Becca sitting out here, even if she was surrounded by other Saints.

“Hey, Vixen, you hungry? There’s a vending machine and one of those fancy ass coffeemakers in the guest lounge. I can grab you something before we start.”

She shook her head. “Not exactly hungry.”

I knew the fucking feeling. But she needed to eat. We all did. Now, more than ever it was important for all of us to keep our strength up. After we were through here, I’d take her to get whatever she wanted.

“After were done here then,” I said. “We’ll go wherever you want.”

“Kaleb?”

I paused with my hand on the handle of the door to the meeting room, craning my neck to look at her. She chewed on her lower lip, pressing her hands together between her thighs. When she turned her head, I saw the ghost of fingerprint bruises along the side of her neck and stiffened.

“About last night…” She trailed off.

“We don’t have to —”

“We do,” she said almost sharply, and I open the door for the couple of

Saints who were outside smoking to enter the meat room before shutting the door behind them.

“I just… I want you to know that this thing with Hardin, it doesn’t mean that what’s between us —”

“I know, Vixen. I know.”

Despite myself, I offered her a small smile, and it was worth it to see the relief in her eyes, and the way her body sagged from it, relaxing into the chair as Hardin returned from his sweep.

“Is it time?”

Hardin nodded and then jerked his chin toward the main door, where Dad was lingering with Ma at his side. Ma was saying something to him that had him pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw taut and eyes closed tight in frustration.

My chest panging that the memory of our losses.

“Stay here,” I told Becca, edging the words and a question even though we both knew it was more of a command.

For half a heartbeat, I contemplated giving her my piece, until I saw old Briggs positioned in front of the back door through the little square glass window, keeping watch with what looked like a semiautomatic slung across his back. Good.

Ma and Dad were across the shop floor, Ma studiously ignoring Becca’s presence and Dad saying nothing about it as he jerked his chin for us to open the door and head inside.

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