Page 185 of Seizing Control: Part One

His agreement only grows as I tell him, “This shit stays between us… you so much as breathe a word about this in anyone’s ear—even Sander’s—and I’ll have you stripped of your cut. I’ll burn the tattoo from your back myself. Not one extra iota of stress falls on my wife’s shoulders while she’s carryin’ my baby… I’ll fix this, no matter how long it takes, and that’s all that fuckin’ matters.”

Cub swallows, his throat working over and over, as he searches for the words he wants to say. “You have my word. I won’t speak outta turn. … just know that I’m here to help in any way you need.”

“’Preciate it, brother.” Holding my fist out, I bump my knuckles against his. After I jut my chin in the direction of Cherub, I add. “Why don’t you go keep my duchess company. Make sure she ain’t liftin’ anythin’ too heavy.”

“Sure thing, prez.”

As soon as Cub draws the glass patio doors shut behind himself, I pull my phone free of my cut. The tension I eased with my assault on my wife’s body returns with vengeance when I pull up the contact I need. He’s been on my shit list since the night of the ritual, and he’ll likely remain there until the day I die.

For now, though, he’s the only avenue I have to contact the man I need to help me.

“Slash,” Gabriel’s tone is amused as he accepts my call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I’m unsure how I ever fell for the meek and mild, befuddled professor image he cultivated for the past three decades because his lethality is unmissable when he continues. “If you’d like to organise round two between your knuckles and the wall, I fear my participation is unwarranted… and dare I say, not in your best interests if you’d like to remain breathin’.”

“I’m not apologisin’ for callin’ things how I see ’em.”

“Wouldn’t dream of askin’ you to.” He chuckles. It’s an unfriendly sound. “I expect you’re ringin’ me so I can deliver a message for you. My protégé has been makin’ all kinds of ructions in the underworld since his resurrection.”

It kills me that my behaviour is so easy to predict.

Still, I’m out of options at this point.

My Tech officer is battling escalating attacks via the World Wide Web while my SAA and his enforcers are fighting off regular incursions on our turf. I don’t have the skills or the connections to get my hands on the seed money needed to rebuild the trust accounts Brutus stole from his children, let alone replace the multi-million estates of Hades and my dead best friend.

“Tell your heir to contact me.”

“That’s not possible?—”

“It’s about his Lily and his dad…”

“Goddamn it.”

“You have twenty-four hours to pass on the message or I’ll work out how to get his attention myself.”

Gabriel snarls, “I will not tolerate your threats. Just because I’ve let your behaviour pass without comment recently, don’t think I’ll put up with your disrespect on an ongoing basis.”

“Wasn’t a threat,” I remark steadily. “Was a friendly warnin’.”

“Lazarus is on a job right now. I’ll have him contact you in thirty-six hours.”

“You do that.”

Ending the call, I exhale until my head spins. My gaze tracks back to my wife. I bask in her smile, find calm in her easy grace as she ushers Delia and her daughters into the pool area via the side gate. As my back yard fills up with my club brothers and their families, I try to take comfort in the normalcy surrounding us. The old ladies are feeling safer than they have in a year. My home has become the epicentre of the club since the families avoid the compound.

Venom’s death at the hands of Brutus was a harsh lesson.

My brothers still regard each other with wariness.

The revenge rained down on the rats in our midst hasn’t quite settled everyone’s suspicions, not while Brutus remains at large.

I can fix the divisions, but I can’t restore their faith without his death.

“You’re hostin’ a barbeque, and you didn’t invite me,” Toker quips. He tosses the bag of ice he’s carrying at me. I catch it. “I’m hurt, brother. Thought we were closer than that.”

After gesturing toward the short brunette standing with my wife, I taunt him, “Maybe we prefer Delia’s company…”

“Oooo, burn,” Cherub’s youngest brother, Nate, jokes. He drops a bunch of salad fixings on the kitchen counter, then ducks out of Mumma’s reach when she goes to swat him upside the head. “Poor Benny’s gonna need a tissue if you keep mentionin’ Delia… as it is, he cries himself to sleep every night ’cause she hates him.”

“Lay off your cousin,” my mother orders the youngest Mayberry sibling. “He has feelings.”

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