Page 79 of The Keeper

Grey wasn’t the first to confront me over the shit with my family. It seemed everyone had an opinion on me keeping my distance and felt the need to try to bring me back into the fold.

“I know everything, kid. And as your godfather?—”

“You’re not my godfather,” I interjected before taking another drag off the cigarette, reveling in the familiar, almost comfortable burn in my lungs.

He let out a rough bark of laughter that held no humor and waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics. Point is, you’ve been runnin’ from this shit for too long.”

His voice softened a fraction. “I’ve watched you self-destruct for two goddamn years, and I’m sick of it. As a good friend of mine once told me when I was standing where you are, ‘At some point, you gotta man the fuck up.’”

Man the fuck up?

What did he think I’d been doing for the past two years?

A vein pulsed in my neck. “And say what? Sorry I drove your kid to suicide and destroyed your marriage.”

“Jesus fuck. You must be more powerful than the fuckin’ Wizard of Oz if you’re singlehandedly responsible for all that,” Grey said dryly. “You don’t know shit about fuck when it comes to your own family, son. If you did, you’d know it didn’t have a damn thing to do with you. Surprised you didn’t bail on your girl after the robbery because you ‘failed.’”

I saw red. In an instant, I was in Grey’s face, snarling, “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Using the sides of my kutte as handles, he shoved me up against the side of the building with a surprising amount of strength for a man pushing sixty. “The fuck you gonna do about it, huh?” He exhaled a stream of smoke into my face because, unlike me, he’d managed to hold onto his cigarette during our scuffle.

“Now you listen to me, you stubborn little shit,” he hissed. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever fucked up? Who’s ever lost someone? Pull your head out of your ass.”

I struggled against his grip, but he didn’t budge.

“I’ve been in your shoes,” he said, shaking me. “I know about the nightmares and the drinkin’ you have to do to try to forget. I know how it feels to wake up every morning hatin’ yourself. But take it from an old man with a mile-long list of regrets, pushin’ everyone away ain’t gonna bring that boy back or make your Ol’ Lady safe. Youwanna throw yourself a goddamn pity party? Fine. But at least get all the goddamned facts first. ‘Cause what went down with Levi ain’t on you.”

“Yeah? Tell that to Crow,” I said, remembering the things Teddy had said to me when we were at the funeral home.

And I’d deserved every bit of it.

“The fuck you expect him to do, huh? That was his baby. Whatever he said or didn’t say, ain’t a chance in hell it had anything to do with you. You just happened to be the closest target. You think you know grief? Boy, that is a whole other ballgame.”

Grey mashed the cigarette between his quivering lips and worked his jaw back and forth several times before continuing, “Parents ain’t supposed to—” His nostrils flared. “They ain’t supposed to bury their kids. It’s a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

The fight drained out of me at the anguish reflected in his eyes, leaving me slumped against the wall. It was the attack on his Ol’ Lady that had led to the war with the Sons and caused her to lose their baby.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve known you since you came into this world. I’ve watched you grow into a man I’m proud to call family. But this chip on your shoulder is going to eat you alive if you don’t deal with it.”

The door to the rental office swung open, cutting off whatever bullshit was about to spew from my mouth. Carnage and Bear stepped out, their eyes narrowing when they saw us.

“We interrupting something?” Carnage asked dryly.

Grey released me and stepped back, smoothing down his kutte. “Just havin’ a heart-to-heart with our boy here.”

Bear snorted. “Funny, from where I’m standin’, it looked more like you were about to rip his heart out.”

“If I wanted details on what it looked like, I’d have asked for ‘em, Pres,” he replied with a shit-eating grin.

Already feeling the familiar itch for another cigarette and needing some good news, I approached Carnage. “Tell me this guy didn’t use a fake ID to rent the van.”

He held up his phone to reveal a screenshot of a driver’s license. “Dumbass rented the van using his real name. Isaac Scott. Twenty-one years old, no priors.”

Finally, a fucking lead.

“The fucking delivery guy?” I asked when the name clicked. “No shit?”

Carnage nodded grimly. “One and the same. Explains why he didn’t flag when we ran background checks on the drivers. Squeaky clean record.”

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