Page 148 of Golden Atonement

I really felt for King.

Brother had his fucking hands full with this one.

“Maybe King doesn’t need your help with this one.”

“Oh please. King is good, but he’s got his hands full with Banks right now. That knuckle dragger is dumber than a box of rocks.”

I laughed loudly.

Shaking my head, I said, “Seems to me, you just answered your question, Carnage. If King is busy helping a brother, then my guess is that’s where the mystery is.”

Carnage groaned. “Ain’t no mystery with that Russian asshat.”

Frowning, I straightened and asked, “Russian?”

“Oh yeah,” Carnage happily confirmed. “Banks ain’t from around here. He told the entire club a week or so ago that he grew up in protection. His name isn’t even Henry Owens. It’s Nikoli Dubrovsky. Well, at least that’s what Ms. Laurel keeps calling him.”

“Aleksandr’s brother?” Phantom whispered.

Shaking my head, I groaned, covering the phone. “Bullseye, call over to the Sons, and tell whoever answers that Carnage is digging for information. Tell them to watch their backs.”

Had love for this kid, but King would have my ass if anything happened to Carnage. King may not have admitted shit to anyone yet, but it didn’t take a fucking genius to know that King loved that kid as if he were his own flesh and blood.

“Cameron, maybe you should let this one go. Seems to me King has everything under control.”

“That’s what Nash said.”

“Who’s Nash?”

“Banks’ son. Nash was a total douche canoe before he came here. Now he’s kinda cool.”

“Well from one Prez to a future Prez, here’s some advice, Carnage. Know when to butt out of shit that don’t concern you.”

The kid sighed. “Yeah. That’s what King told me.”

“Sound advice,” I said. “Look, Carnage. You know if shit gets bad, all you gotta do is call and the Golden Skulls will come running. We’ve always got your back.”

“Thanks, Reaper. That means a lot.”

“CAMERON!”

“Oh shit. Gotta go, Reaper. Thanks for listening!” the kid said, right before the line went dead.

Chuckling, I looked at Bullseye and asked, “Who did you call?”

My brother leaned back on the sofa and smiled. “Gunner.”

The sun had set when I entered the house, heading upstairs to the sound of the shower shutting off. Sitting on our bed, I bowed my head when I remembered her whispered words as she pleaded with me. Seeing her in that shower, shivering, still haunted me.

She was holding something back.

Something from her time in captivity.

I knew it. But I also know that I couldn’t force her to speak until she was ready.

For too many fucking years, my woman suffered the unimaginable. It was a testament to her strength that she was still sane. I’d seen too many people succumb to the torment. But what bothered me the most was that she didn’t feel safe enough around me to tell me the truth.

I guess that was on me.

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