Page 17 of Making Choices

“If he gets hurt, I’ll—”

“He won’t.”

“He called you prez right in front of him.” Brutus’ reaction to Hunter’s snarky taunt flits into the forefront of my mind. “That’s not gonna go unanswered.”

“Hunt’s already dealt with it,” Venom tells me as I follow him down the hallway that connects the windowless sleeping quarters to the main building. “Told Brutus he skipped his meds yesterday.”

I yawn so wide my eyes water. As I’m dashing the tears away with the back of my hand, I say, “He’s not on meds.”

“Dumb fucker brought it, though.” Venom shrugs. “He’s too far up his own arse to know any different.”

“Can’t believe that fucker’s our president. A fuckin’ coconut could do a better job.”

“No arguments here,” Venom replies. He holds up a hand as we near the kitchen door. “Give me a sec… gotta come bearin’ caffeine or she’s liable to shoot me.”

“Make one for me and all’s forgiven.”

He grunts and I grin at the back of his head until he disappears from sight. My back aches from curling myself into a pretzel to fit into the chair in Fret’s room last night so I slump against the wall and crack my neck from side to side. It eases some of the stiffness in my spine.

“Mo ionmhas! Give your mumma a kiss.” My mother comes to a stop when she sees me. Her palms are warm on my cheeks when she captures my face after I stoop low and press my lips to her cheek. She doesn’t let me go until she’s wiped away the lipstick mark she makes after she kisses my forehead. “Do you need breakfast? Coffee?”

“I’m good, Mumma. Venom’s dealin’ with the caffeine situation.”

“Good. Good.” Her smile dims and she leans in closer to whisper, “I should tan your hide for keeping secrets from little Cherub. That girl deserves better than four years of lies and misery after all she’s been through.”

The sorrow written all over her face hits me in the heart. My mother knows better than most exactly how Cherub suffered. Her own childhood was abruptly ended when she was kidnapped by a Scottish criminal syndicate known as the Scorpions at the age of fourteen to send a message to her powerful father. The full depth of her suffering has never been laid out straight for me, but I know she spent three years being used and abused by multiple men in that gang until my grandfather and his men rescued her.

My touch is soft as I run my fingertip down the jagged scar marring my mother’s soft cheek. “I’m sorry… just wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Mumma’s eyes glisten when she says, “That’s the problem with secrets. Mosta the time they do more damage than good.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“What… faking my death and running away to Australia? Never seeing my family again?”

“Well, all of that, and not stayin’ in Edinburgh to see the Scorpions wiped out for what they did to you?”

“No.” Her response is automatic and final. “My father did me a favour when he erased my existence from record and allowed me a new life away from the Trinity. I’d be dead if I stayed in Scotland—if not by his enemies’ hand, then by my own. Their way of life is brutal and I’m not cut out for it. I didn’t need to play witness to the Scorpions demise to be comforted by the knowledge they no longer exist.”

I gesture to the line of framed photographs that line the wall opposite us. More than fifty Shamrocks have paid the ultimate price in the brotherhood’s history. It’s a number that still awes me to this day. So much blood spilled to protect our way of life.

“The MC life isn’t exactly a picnic.”

“Oh, laddie.” The accent Mumma has never quite been able to shake becomes thicker as she tells me, “The Shamrocks are teddy bears compared to the Trinity. The club runs guns and weed and fights over turf. The guild of La Trinitat Nova has headquarters in every country. They run the planet—from entire governments and world-wide institutions down to the smallest town councils; they control everything—even the existence of the Shamrocks.” She must see my scepticism because her tone turns steelier. “Look at it this way… enemies of the guild could wipe out the Shamrocks with the stroke of a pen and a little time, but the Trinity could wipe you both out in the blink of an eye. Not one thing happens on earth without the guild having something to do with it. Even after thirty-five years away from them, I could be forced home at any second.”

“We’d keep you safe from the Trinity,” Venom cuts in as he steps out of the kitchen carrying two mugs. He passes one to me, then guards the other one like it’s filled with liquid gold. “No one’s stealin’ away my favourite shortbread maker without a fight.”

“You’re too sweet sometimes.” The tension and seriousness that had grown as Mumma explained the Trinity to me evaporates when she looks up at Venom with a genuine smile on her face. She pats his cheek, then uses her chin to gesture at the cup of coffee he’s cradling. “I hope you used the good beans for that?”

“Of course,” he tells her. “Nothin’ but the best for my woman.”

“Keep it that way.”

He salutes her with his free hand. “I plan to.”

“That’s all I ask.” My mumma pats his cheek again, then she reaches up to pinch mine. “I’m gonna let you get back to whatever you’re up to ’cause this food ain’t gonna make itself.”

After downing my coffee in three gulps, I pass her the mug. “I’ll eat lunch with you, Mumma.”

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