Page 197 of Traitor

Pops strolls in, his morning energy way too perky for my barely caffeinated brain.

"Hey, girlie! Whatcha eatin'?" he asks, beaming at me.

I swallow my bite and point a lazy thumb toward Mama. "Sandwich. From Mama. Delicious."

"Do you want another one, sweetie?" The woman in question asks, already moving like she's about to make one whether I say yes or no.

I shake my head. "No, I'm good. Thank you." I sip my coffee, then tilt my head at her. "Do you need help with anything?"

Mama beams, practically glowing. "Oh, no. We're finishing up here, then heading out for a ride. There's so much beauty around here, and I want to see as much as we can today. The weather is perfect, and I can finally take my girl out!"

Before I can answer, chaos enters the room.

Mindfuck drags Tank into the kitchen, his expression somewhere between righteous fury and theatrical indignation.

"Temperance!" he calls out loudly, making me jump a little. "I heard from Domino that you have a sharp mind for cruel and unusual punishments." He pauses, squinting like he's reconsidering every life choice that led him here. "In hindsight, I probably should've realized that sooner. But no matter! I need assistance with this asshole right here." He yanks Tank forward like an offender before the court.

Tank sighs, looking to the ceiling like he's asking for patience. "It was just a fucking prank. Get over it."

Mindfuck glares. "Nuh-uh! Listen here, Judge, this fool thought it would be hilarious to put hot sauce in my personal whiskey stash! First of all, I fucking hate hot sauce. Second, he ruined my goddamn whiskey!" He crosses his arms, completely scandalized. "What's your verdict?"

I gape at them, half choking on my coffee. Right then, Bones strolls in, catching the tail end of the madness. I meet his eyes across the kitchen and raise my brows.

"Did you hear that shit?" I ask him.

Bones barely spares them a glance. "Yeah, I did." He walks straight past, tossing over his shoulder, "Stop bothering my woman with your petty fucking squabbles. Figure it out between yourselves."

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Now wait a minute!" I protest, a devious smile curling my lips.

Tank instantly stiffens. "T... whatever you're thinking, don't."

I tap my finger on my chin, mock considering. "Now, Tank, that was not very nice of you. Ruining good whiskey." I turn to Mindfuck, my smile growing sharper. "Do you still have the bottle? The one with the hot sauce?"

Tank's eyes widen in pure horror. Mindfuck grins like a man who's just been handed divine justice. "Oh yeah, I do."

Bones sighs. Loudly.

I purse my lips, thinking theatrically. "It would only be fair for Tank to experience what he created, wouldn't it?" I glance at Mindfuck, who nods in immediate agreement. "Five shots should do it, no?"

Tank groans. "Goddammit! I won't—"

Bones doesn't even twitch a muscle as he throws one glare Tank's way. One.

Tank sighs, completely defeated. "Fucking fine. Give me the bottle. Let's get this over with."

Watching Tank turn lobster-red all the way up to the tip of his bald head was a fantastic way to start the day.

Later that day, we're tangled in bed, a lazy mess of limbs, skin, and warmth. Bones trails his fingers along my spine, slow and aimless, like he has all the time in the world to map me out. I'm spent. Wrecked. We decided today was going to be one of those stay-in-bed, do-absolutely-nothing days. But sleep? Not a single second of it.

I yawn, nuzzling against his chest. "I saw your dad with his cut on today," I murmur. "And his patch said his road name is Pops."

Bones chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling through me. "Yeah, baby. That's because it is."

I blink up at him, confused. "Wait. But... I thought you just called him Pops because he's your dad."

His lips pull into a lazy, satisfied smile. "Yeah, but it's also his road name. He's the father of this club. The founding member. He came up with the idea, fought for it, made it happen. Sure, there are other founding members, but he had to do some convincing to get them on board."

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