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“When I left, they made it clear that I was not welcome back into their lives, but I still kept tabs on them. They were like family to me, that is why it hurt to see how quickly they turned their backs on me, but I cannot stand by and let her get hurt because of some bruised ego, or pride. It is not in me to do that.”

Fuck me with a feather, the man got it.

I smirk, looking at Pres, whose gaze flicks to mine then back to the prospect with respect in his eyes.

“Okay, see what more you can find out without drawing attention to you or the club. I do not want to deal with people who think their shit does not stink. We deal with this quietly, until the time comes when we need to put these fucks in their place.” He looks around the room, and Savage is grinning like a fool because he is liking the idea of them fucking up so he can draw blood.

“Anything else? Savage, I want the monthly report on all club business by the end of week. I am thinking it is time we expand into something more.” He grins.

“What kind of more, Pres?” Rogue asks, leaning his forearms on the table.

“Let’s just say I know of a business that will be coming for a forced takeover soon,” is all he says, but the smile on his face tells us all we need to know.

It will mean us taking it by force but it will bring in the money.

“Good deal, Pres.”

“Forge, Flame, did that lady and her three kids get to the safe house?”

“They did,” Forge confirms.

“The teenage daughter had a bit to say on moving, but the mom soon shut her up with a few live truths,” Flame adds.

“Good; anything else?” Pres asks the room.

He bangs the gavel, ending church. The men filter out, leaving me alone with Racer, who is watching me as I watch him.

“What have you got planned?”

His grin widens.

“You know that bar and grill that is over on 7thWest?”

I nod. “Yeah, they have good wings but shitty management and staff.”

“Got word that the bank is foreclosing on it soon. The owner has not been keeping up with payments so I want us to swoop in and take the fucker from him, fire all the staff. Except the chef, I have it on good authority that he is the only good thing about the place. Get all new in, start fresh. Could be a money maker.”

I nod, thinking over the times I have been there and it has been busy as fuck, especially on game days.

“I am game, brother. Nothing wrong with bringing cash into the club.”

“Exactly. Now I am going for a fucking nap, to clear this headache.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Stop fucking drinking like you are trying to keep up with the youngsters,” I jest with him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Fuck off—” he shrugs me off “—I am only thirty-eight, two years older than you, brother. It is the tequila, it gets me every damn time.” He chuckles, and we leave the room.

Racer goes to his part of the clubhouse that belongs to the president, and I meet the men at the bar.

Taking the empty stool, I watch as the prospect behind the bar brings cold beers to the brothers. Reid, the other prospect, is outside topping up my dogs’ water bowls. That is his job, thanks to my kids making him the dogs’ water boy, but he doesn’t mind, because he will do anything for my kids.

After today, I feel that we will be patching two new men into the club.

“You did good, brother,” is all I say. He knows what I mean, his eyes widened a fraction before he shuts it down, not showing what this means to him but he will when the time comes.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MADALYN

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