Page 38 of Price of Angels

“They were only friends with each other,” RJ said. “They did club stuff, but they were always together, and they didn’t hang out after hours with anyone else.” He winced. “Except for the time Andre was with Collier.”

And Collier had noticed something off, had realized the betrayal, and handled it himself, putting both the traitors in the ground.

“I was Jace’s sponsor,” Dublin said, hanging his head. “I shoulda known.”

“We all shoulda known,” Ghost said, addressing Mercy. “We were busy, and we needed new members to beef up the ranks, and we all got careless. Those two were assholes, but so’s everyone in their generation. None of us put the time in to investigate them like we should have.” He gave his son-in-law a glance that saidare you happy? We fucked up, and we admitted it.

Mercy didn’t look happy, but there was a flash of pain and anger in his eyes. He’d been banished, and in his absence, disloyal members had been patched. That didn’t sit well with him.

It didn’t sit well with Michael either, but he was loath to agree with the man.

“What do you mean everyone in their generation is an asshole?” Aidan asked, indignant and young and stupid as always. “We’re in their generation.” He gestured between himself and Tango.

Tango had the grace to duck his head, spiky blonde lock of the middle part of his hair falling onto his forehead, earrings glimmering dully in the lamplight.

Aidan stared indignantly at his father.

“Right,” Ghost said. “You are.”

Not another father/son fight at the table. None of them needed that right now.

Michael interrupted, dispelling the sudden tension. “The real problem here is that Collier went rogue. He should have come to us, told us what he suspected. Now we can’t question Andre and Jace, and we’ve got no way to get the answers we need, save from prison gossip.” The more he spoke about it, the more disgusted he became. He’d always respected the previous VP; he’d been fair, competent, focused. What he’d done went against everything Michael had ever been taught about the MC. “Collier knew better.”

“He did,” Ghost agreed. “But now it’s spilt milk, and all that.”

“That’s three members who went off grid.”

Ghost gave him a surprised glance. He’d never argued in church before. Or anywhere, really.

If he was honest, Michael wasn’t sure where this was coming from, only that it was boiling up inside him.

“So Andre and Jace were traitorous pricks who never loved the club. Yeah. Okay. But Collier? He had a duty to bring their transgressions to this table.” He thumped his hand down onto it.

Ghost, to his surprise, said, “He was doing what he thought was right.” They’d been childhood friends, after all, and he would defend the man.

“That’s not how a motorcycle club works,” Michael said. “If we all went around doing whatever the hell we wanted, because it was ‘right,’ then it’d be chaos. What’s the point of the MC if no one respects it?”

And then understanding dawned, in a moment of sheer horror.

This was about Holly. This was about his own wants, his own code of right and wrong. Collier had overridden the protocol, and he’d been forgiven for it. Michael felt sure he wouldn’t be allowed that same grace, and he was wall-punching, teeth-gnashing angry about it.

He needed to get a grip.

He needed to get some air.

No, wait, couldn’t get air. Church still in session. Sit very still then, get quiet, don’t say anything else.

He took a deep breath and stared down at his hands. They were knotted together in a pose that should have looked relaxed; he could see the veins standing out in his fingers and wrists.

The truth hurt: he wanted to kill three men for a pretty little waitress who’d spent four months talking to him. Who’d said she wanted to be friends. Who’d invited him into her bed, her body, because she couldn’t afford to pay him, and she had no idea how much more valuable her offer was than cash.

He wanted, for once, to use his gifts of speed and silence and deadly force to do something that felt good and right, rather than just necessary.

He didn’t want to see Holly’s face in the paper and know she’d been killed, and that he could have done something to prevent it.

He’d zoned out, and the meeting had continued on around him. He refocused. Ghost had switched topics, was talking about the new dealers who wanted to be a part of their district.

The men who’d met Ratchet and Mercy at Bell Bar and frightened Holly. The men he’d been propositioned with executing.

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