Page 63 of Forsaking All Others

“That’s me,” I confirm.

“You and your boys get patted down before you enter Kate’s,” he says, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “Against the wall.”

“With all due respect, I’m not a man who puts my back to the wall,” I say, reaching into my kutte. I pull out my glock and hold it out for him. He steps forward, taking it from me and tilts his chin.

“Gonna need the other one too.”

Impressive.

Makes you wonder how they got in the mess they’re in.

Keeping my eyes pinned to him, I bend and push my jeans up my calf, revealing the holster that conceals my other gun. Taking it out, I lower the denim over my boot and straighten to my full height, dropping the gun in Blackie’s palm.

He nods.

“Get them back after your meeting.” Then he turns to Ghost. “What’s in the bag?”

“Cookies,” Ghost deadpans. “Heard you folk don’t take guests without an offering of baked goods.”

“Cannoli’s,” the man standing at Blackie’s left drawls. My gaze wanders to his patch…Bash.

Blackie turns his head and eyes his brother.

“What?” Bash scoffs. “The last time I brought cookies to anything, I got my ass handed to me and those were some damn good cookies. The ones with the little nuts…what ya’ll call them again? Pinecone cookies?”

“Pignoli cookies,” the man behind Bash grunts. I squint to read his patch…Nico.Ah, this would be the president’s son.

“Yeah, them pig-no-lee things set me back twenty bucks a pound. Would’ve been better with a box of Ding Dongs.” Bash pauses and looks back at Ghost. “You don’t have any Ding Dongs in there, do you?”

“Jesus,” Ghost hisses. He drops the duffel bag in front of Blackie’s feet. “Open the fucking thing and see for yourself what’s in the bag.”

Blackie drags the zipper from one end to the other and inspects the duffel bag, feeling through the stacks of cash.

“A man can get a lot of cookies with that dough,” Bash quips. “Get it…dough…cookies.”

I look at him for a moment then I bring my eyes back to Blackie.

“Are you people sure he’s not the reason the cartel is after you?” I ask.

Blackie doesn’t respond, instead he zips the duffel bag and reaches for the handles. Ghost is quick and grabs it first.

“The money is yours after we speak with Parrish,” Ghost tells him.

“Then you got yourself a problem,” Blackie grinds out, crossing his arms against his chest as he brings his eyes back to me. “Parrish ain’t here.”

My jaw clenches at that information. My patience has been tested over the last couple of days, and now this. Get the fuck out of here. I did not ride eight hours against the fucking wind to chat about fucking cookies.

“Wolf is in the back,” Blackie continues. “He’s been briefed.”

“That’s great,” I growl. “Where the fuck is Parrish?”

Blackie raises an eyebrow.

“I get you and I have the same reaper on our back, but you do not come at me like that. This is our house and the way I see it, you played us dirty. Took our money and left us standing on the loading dock of the funeral parlor holding our dicks in our hands.”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m here?” I growl.

I’m about to take my guns from Blackie’s hand and tell him to go fuck himself when I hear the distinct roar of an engine. I turn at the sound and my men turn too. Ink and Torque draw their weapons on the rider as he comes to a stop in front of Kate’s.

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