Page 103 of Tempting Fate

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” our resident genius replies evenly. “I’ve had enough of this fucker over the past couple days. He needs to trot his corrupt arse out of this room, all the way down to the parking lot, then drive his expensive car home to his soulless mansion without saying another word… otherwise, I’m gonna send him out the back door in a body bag.”

“Step down,” Brutus orders with a flick of his hand. He doesn’t even meet Hunter’s eyes, just dismisses him like he’s a bothersome flea. “Don’t need your heroics, ’cause this cunt’s leavin’ with me. Right. Now. We needa have a little chat. Alone.”

From the angle I’m standing, I can’t see Joseph’s face any longer. He might be amused. He might be shit scared. Doesn’t matter because I can see Brutus’ expression, and what I’m witnessing makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. His gaze is unworried. His lips quirk every so often, almost like he’s trying to bite back a smile. Brutus might be verbally scornful of the father of the man who abused his daughter and had his son kidnapped and tortured, yet the rage that he should be feeling over Lily and Fret’s suffering is missing.

In truth, he seems mildly bemused, a little annoyed, and a whole lot put out by Hunter stepping up to the minister for police. Almost like he’s not worried about Joseph being here. Like he knows he can talk him into pretending he was never notified about Fret’s torture.

In any other circumstances, it’d take four of us to pry Brutus off Alex’s father.

This afternoon, though, he’s acting as if the cops are more tolerable than his MC brothers.

My gut twists, all my suspicions fall into line, one after the other, like dominos.

Any doubt I’d harboured, the hope that I could find something to salvage my relationship with my godfather, evaporates.

Brutus is the rat.

I already figured he was colluding with the Maddison’s, but now it’s clear that he’s also working with the Bishops and, it appears, Joseph Kingsley.

Betraying his daughter, his son, and his club in one fell swoop.

“Hunt,” Slash tries to get his brother’s attention again.

“Stand the fuck down,” Brutus bellows.

When Hunter doesn’t heed his president’s command, I pat his shoulder. “Holster your weapon, kiddo.” The acidic look Hunter gives me could melt me on the spot. He’s enraged, beyond pissed off that I’m not stepping up to challenge Brutus. I try to talk him down a second time. “It’s not the place.”

There’s a keen gleam of calculation in Hunter’s icy-blue gaze when he glances between me and Brutus. In his expression, I see the same conclusion being drawn as the one I’ve come to. Our president is bent. Corrupt. Selling out the club. Deceiving his kids. Deceiving us all.

Barely nineteen years old, and Christian “Hunter” Hudson is already putting me to shame with his nous. Considering his blatant defiance, it’s clear he’s been on to Brutus for a lot longer than I have been.

Teeth bared, insolence on his face, Hunter winks at me. “Sure thing, prez.”

Returning his attention to Brutus, the little shit makes a show of sighting up his actual president and clicking his tongue like an improvised trigger before he lowers the pistol. Hunter doesn’t return the weapon to its holster, instead, he holds it with the muzzle toward the floor and cocks his hip to the side as Brutus advances on him.

“Me and you gonna have words,” Brutus tells his youngest fully patched member. Without waiting for a reaction, he shoulders past Hunter, knocking him into me. He then takes hold of Joseph’s upper arm. “Let’s go. We’ve got a couple things to discuss.”

Once they’ve left the waiting room, Joker and Bear in tow, I check on the doctor, needing to see how much finessing she’s going to require to let this slide. Sometime during the showdown, she slipped behind Slash. Clutching one of his long arms, Bebe peeks at us from around rib height on my six-foot-eight best friend. She’s almost completely composed, a slight tic under her right eye gives away the tiny crack in her composure.

“You all right there, doll?” Slash asks before I can.

After a slight hesitation, she steps away from him and waves her fingers like touching him burns her.

Ignoring his question, the tiny doctor slams her hands on her hips and addresses me. “After all that, I guess talking to the police is off the cards.”

“You’d be correct.” Relief fills me when she nods. “The cops aren’t welcome in our business.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Regaining her composure after a beat, Bebe pulls on her professional façade and launches into a matter-of-fact evaluation. “So... Everett will be sedated for at least three days. This is mainly to kick-start his healing, but also to alleviate some of the swelling we figure was caused by some nasty blows to the head. Because I’ve already made a police report, security will be posted on his door as a matter of procedure, but I guess you’ll want one of your people to watch over him, too?”

“Correct again.”

“Right… well… give me about ten minutes to finalise his paperwork. They’ll take him straight to the intensive care ward and, once he’s settled, I’ll call for one of you to sit with him.”

“I know you said he’s sedated, but can he have visitors?” Lily asks.

“No. I’m sorry. Not tonight. Hopefully, by tomorrow afternoon.” Bebe flushes pink, shaking her head with apology. “Now, I’m going to need a number to call once the coast is clear.”

“Who’s goin’ with him?” I pose my question to Slash.

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