Page 35 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“Billiards,” Tommy’s voice corrected, laughingly, in the background.

“Billiards,” Emmie said, and he could hear her eyeroll. The smack and clack of balls faded some, and he could envision the game room, its old tables salvaged from pubs, its Tiffany glass lamps, its black-on-green wallpaper and dark wood wainscoting. He loved that room, though he didn’t miss it now. Itreekedof decades’ worth of cigarette smoke. “How’s it going over there?” she asked, softly. “How are you?”

It took him a beat to remember that Emmie thought Ghost was truly dead.

Or did she? His anger swelled up, painful under his skin.

“Well,” he said, and took a sip to help flatten his voice out into something unimpressed, rather than something on the verge of shaking. “I’ve been better. Today, for instance, I found out that Maggie and Ava are in New Orleans with Ten.”

She sucked in a breath.

“You didn’t think to mention that during one of our four phone calls since you landed?”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. That about sums it up.” At sound of her sigh, his anger faded – a pressed bruise with the pressure suddenly released; still ugly, but no longer paining him. “Em,” he said, prompt and plea both.

“I know, I know. But I didn’t want to worry you.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Okay.” Her voice firmed. “I had no intention of telling you. Happy?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that I trust you more than anybody on the planet – but sometimes, you owe your friends a secret or two.”

He’d suspected as much before he even dialed her number. And, deep down, he liked that she was loyal to her friends. The old ladies stuck together; watched each other’s backs. Usually that didn’t mean keeping a secretthisbig, but he understood the impulse.

“You’renot in New Orleans, are you?”

“Yes,” she said, tone dry, but relieved, too. Glad they weren’t going to have a shouting match. Shouting wasn’t his style, but it was hard to give one another the silent treatment across an ocean. “Tommy’s teaching Vi to play pool in New Orleans. It’s all one big conspiracy against you.”

He snorted. “Speaking of conspiracies…do you know about Ghost?”

“That he went with Fox to Virginia and that Aidan’s going to have anactualheart attack when he finds out he’s not dead? Yeah. I know.”

“Fuck.”

He heard movement, and then the background noise cut out. Her voice went serious. “King. How badly is this going to blow up in your face?”

“Badly,” he said, tired of lying. “But I’m in it, now.”

“Yeah,” she said, sadly. “I’m sorry.”

~*~

Aidan had left his bike parked around the corner of the building, not wanting any brother passing by to spot it and get curious. Even so, he rounded the sidewalk and pulled up short when he spotted two bikes slanted in the space beside his, riders astride them.

Roman and Carter.

Roman’s gaze was difficult to read behind his sunglasses, but the way his arms were folded over his gas tank was clear. “I saw your girlfriend leave,” he said, lip curling in disgust.

Carter’s expression, when he pushed his sunglasses up into his golden hair, was pained. “Aidan. Dude.Really?” His voice was thick with hurt. With betrayal.

A part of Aidan wanted to laugh hysterically at the idea: the preppy jock who’d tailed Ava home all those years ago, pathetic, frightened of them, questioning his loyalty to the club. And nowhefelt betrayed byAidan. By a fucking legacy.

As quick as he’d thought it, Aidan was swamped with guilt. Carter was a good egg. Was doubtless as adrift as any of them.

He scrubbed his hands over his face – his eyes still felt full of sand, the lids heavy and sluggish after his emotional outburst yesterday – and said, “Guys, come on. It’s not like that.”

Roman’s brows lifted over the rims of his aviators. “You wanna tell us what it is like, then? ‘Cause it looked like you were spilling your guts to that pretty FBI bitch.”

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