Page 39 of Patching Over

A VERY MERRY BRICK-MAS

PROLOGUE

Brick

The information I finally received from Phantom is burning a hole in my stomach. While no one but me and of course, the lab, know what the paper says, I know it’s going to blow everything we all thought we knew sky-fucking-high.

For the first time since taking over the gavel, I’m honestly unsure how to proceed. One thing’s for sure, I’m glad Banshee and Rooster have finally made it back.

“You’ve been missed, Brother,” I say as we sit at a table in the common room drinking and catching up after Church.

With the holidays fast approaching, we covered upcoming runs as well as what expectations I had regarding covering all the shifts at our businesses since a few of the brothers are heading out to see their own families.

“Can’t believe you’ve been gone as long as you were,” Pops says, grinning at Banshee. “I can’t run this place without two of my best men.”

Banshee raises his brow at me, and I shrug, not wanting to contradict him since he still thinks he’s in charge. “Had a jobto do, RiffRaff,” he replies. “You taught us to see everything through to the end, no matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Pops muses. “Well, you’re here now, this place looks like Santa’s workshop, and we’re doing good as a club. We’ve got a lot to celebrate, that’s for fucking sure.”

As brothers move in and out of the room, I see two of the new club whore hopefuls approach. They blatantly ignore my glare as well as my shaking head and one winds her arms around Ban’s shoulders, an absolute fucking mistake judging from the look on his now-menacing face.

“Get your fucking hands off me. I didn’t ask to be touched. Don’t you two know the fucking rules around here?” he questions, his tone almost lethally quiet.

“Not sure what rules you’re talking about,” the redhead states, glancing at her friend whose wrists are now captured in one of Banshee’s hands.

“Know that one’s a lie because Leathyr told me she sat you both down and went over what’s expected of a club whore around here.”

“How do you know she wasn’t the one who lied?” Red, the name I’m gonna call her, sneers.

“Because she’s never lied about anything a day in her fucking life. Now get your fucking hands off him!” Pops roars out, causing both of them to stumble back and fall on their asses. “Seems you two are out before you even got the chance to ride biker cock. Sucks to be you, I’d say, but since you’re not staying, I don’t fucking care. Prospects! Get the trash out and hurry before the stench of their cheap-ass perfume ruins my good mood.”

The two new prospects rush over and help the women up before practically pushing them out the front door.

“Looks like the twins were a good choice for prospecting,” Ban says, waving his hand for another longneck beer.

Stormy grabs several then brings them over. She nods at RiffRaff and states, “We thought they might be trouble, but Hawg vetted them and told Leathyr to give them the talk and a chance. Looks like we might have dodged several bullets by getting rid of them. Glad you and Rooster are back, Banshee. Y’all have been missed.” With a wink, she moves back to the bar then immediately starts passing out drinks to the other brothers waiting.

Because of where I’m seated, I spot Rayleigh walking down the hallway, Hobbes riding on her shoulder as she heads toward the kitchen. Pops, seeing her as well, raises his brows then turns to me, asking, “When did Lorelei color her hair and how long has she had a damn cat?”

I watch Banshee’s face whiten when he hears his mother’s name mentioned; the faint hope the past fifteen or so years were just a bad fucking dream. He turns and when he spots Rayleigh, he goes sheet white as the beer bottle drops from his fingers.

When she turns, he whispers, “RyRy?”

Rayleigh

Silence permeates the air as I turn to stare at Brick. RiffRaff has been calling me Lorelei which I thought was a bit odd, but he’s been diagnosed as having Alzheimer’s, so I just figured I reminded him of someone he must’ve cared about in his past.

It turns out, I apparently do, and not only that, but the tall, bald—except for a mohawk biker, must think I do as well if his words, actions, and current expression are any indication.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” I cautiously reply. I can see from the flash on his cut he’s Banshee, Brick’s best friend as well as being the vice president of the club. I haven’t met himyet because he’s been out of town helping another brother on a personal matter.

I see Banshee turn toward Brick and notice his eyes are glassy and hazy. “Brother?” he whispers to my ol’ man. His words come out choppy as if he’s swallowing past a lump and even though I don’t know him, his overall appearance gives off the look of someone having the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“Rayleigh, Banshee, we need to talk, but not right here where others can overhear us. Let’s head into my office so we can hash this out,” Brick suggests instead of replying directly to Banshee. “As for the rest of y’all, we’ll have Church once the three of us have wrapped things up.”

“Brick, since when do you call Church?” RiffRaff asks, his eyes drawn upward into his hairline, confusion blanketing his face.

It dawns on me that he’s wearing a cut that’s different from what Brick and the other guys wear, but right now, that’s the least of my worries.

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