Page 85 of The Oath We Take

It takes ten minutes to bring Butcher up to speed. Actually, it only takes two minutes; the other eight are spent managing his reactions.

“These fuckers are gonna be the death of me,” Butcher says finally. “We have other shit we should be dealing with, like a long run down to LA with the new batch of weed now that the grow-op is back up and running. Not batting away Bratva like fucking mosquitos. It’s like they’re experts at anticipating our every move. They seem to know all our vulnerabilities.”

“We can figure this out,” Wraith says finally.

“Figure it out?” Butcher scowls. “I’m done with this shit. Do your fucking jobs. All of you. Those motherfuckers have us over barrels.”

The others leave the patio, but I remain in the chair. “They ran me off my fucking bike; I’m not moving yet.”

Butcher lights a cigarette. “You’re a sure shot, Atom. How did you miss?”

The question rubs up against my ego and my shame. “Because the truck was moving. Because I was running. And I didn’t fucking miss. Got a shot through the driver’s side fucking window and shattered it, and somehow the lucky fucker dodged. Catfish blew out the rear. Go check the casings on the fucking street if you like.”

He blows a stream of smoke into the air. “And you didn’t think they might try to get you off your bike?”

I stand and a shooting pain rushes down my leg. But if I’m facing down my president, I’ll do it on my feet. “You know what? I didn’t. Because I was too busy chasing after them. Too busy worrying what would happen if they made it to the highway before I stopped them. Too busy worrying about whether Catfish had Ember secured. Too busy keeping my bike on the fucking road. You think I wanted to see that fucking truck blocking the road when I took that corner? And for the record, I feel like shit ‘cause I failed. So, stop making it worse,Prez.”

“Sorry,” Butcher says. “I just hate how they seem to have the advantage. Hate the idea they’re smarter and more capable than we are. You good?”

“Feel like I just got spun up and spat out. Went over the top of the bike. Lucky I’m walking.”

“And what about you?” Butcher asks Ember.

“Just shook up. I wonder if the realtor is still open. They have properties for rent listed, and I certainly need somewhere to stay tonight.”

Butcher shakes his head. “You’re staying with me.”

Ember puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to stay with you. I hate your house.”

Butcher rolls his eyes. “You don’t hate my house.”

“You’re right. I don’t hate your house because it was my childhood home, but I hate the parade of club girls who have passed through it that, ultimately, caused Mom to leave. So, no, I am not staying at your place.”

“Well, you can’t stay here, so where are you going?”

“Fuck’s sake,” I say. “For tonight, she can stay with me.”

Butcher eyes me carefully. “Why would she stay with you?”

I shrug. “I dunno. Maybe it’s because my house is close to the clubhouse if there’s trouble. Maybe because it benefits from being inside the ranch boundary and beyond the club security checkpoints. Maybe she’ll be better protected there. It’s less obvious.”

“Or maybe you could both ask me what I want,” Ember says. She gives me a knowing look. One that suggests I might be blowing our secret, coming on too strong to take her with me.

“You can have my room at the clubhouse,” Butcher says.

Ember pretends to vomit. “Even worse. We all know what happens in that room, because while the club girls are many things, discrete isn’t one of them.”

“Well, I don’t want you on your own.” Butcher folds his arms across his chest.

Her eyes flit to mine momentarily, urging me to work with her. “Then I’ll go stay with Quinn.”

I shake my head, attempting to play the game. “Yeah, brilliant idea, Em. Go stay with one of the other women being pressed for money.”

“And Quinn isn’t staying at her place right now. The night they set fire to the bar, they went to her for money. There was some trouble,” Butcher says.

“What?” Ember and I say together.

“Is she hurt?” Ember asks.

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