Page 7 of The First Cut
“You’re strong and ruthless enough to lead them. They’ll follow you at first because they’re scared of you, and then they’ll follow you out of respect. I can’t think of a better person for the job.”
“Have you been drinking?”
He smirks. “No, but I’ll warn you now—being president’ll make you want to drink.”
“Havoc, I can’t be president. I’m fucked up. I know you’ve heard the rumors about me. I sure as shit didn’t magically become sane while you were in prison.”
“I don’t need someone sane. I need someone loyal.”
I shut my mouth at that. I might play by my own rules, but I’m a Raven through and through.
“There’s more. I have a kid.”
He looks at me, shocked, while I fill him in on the rest.
“Jesus. I gotta admit, I didn’t see that coming. But it doesn’t change anything for me. I still need you in Ohio. And maybe a fresh start would be good for the kid. Less memories to haunt her.”
“What the fuck do I know about raising a kid, Havoc?”
“The same as any parent, fuck-all. You figure it out as you go. But take over as president, and you’ll be an expert in no time.”
“You saying being president is like being a daddy to a bunch of teenagers?”
“Worse. Toddlers. I swear Toot and Probe could test the patience of a saint.”
I scrub my hand down my face. “I’m not sure I’m taking Millie in yet. Kid’s probably fucked up enough without me making it worse.”
“So get yourself a house mouse. Or, better yet, find an old lady to look after her. You can keep her safe while someone else looks after her. Hell, anything’s better than foster care.”
I stand up and walk over to the window, needing to think on my feet.
“Why don’t you go have a drink? Think it over. I’m riding up there in a couple of days to meet with Khan and see what the fuck’s going on—so you’ve got some time to get back to me.”
I nod and leave without another word and head straight to the bar.
I spot Legs sitting at the end of the bar, holding a bottle of water, lost in her own world. I decide to join her.
“Hoops, give me a whiskey—neat.”
“You got it, Hannibal,” he calls out as I take the seat next to Legs.
She looks up and tenses. I don’t take it personally. Anyone with half a brain gets nervous around me— and with good reason.
“You got a plan to get Midas to pull his head out of his ass?”
She doesn’t try to play dumb. Not with me.
“No plan. I’m not going to beg someone to be with me. He’s either all in or he’s not. And he’s not. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll ever allow himself to be all in—at least not with someone like me,” she says, taking a sip of her water, her hand shaking a little before she puts the bottle down.
“You prepared to take him like this? Even if all he ever gives you are scraps of affection and a quick fuck when he’s in the mood?”
She grimaces and stands from her stool. “No. I’m prepared to leave my home, my job—everything—and start over, because I know he’ll never see me as anything other than a whore.”
“You are a whore, Legs.” She flinches like I hit her. “I’m not saying that to be a dick. That’s your job, and there’s no shame in that. I’m just saying if you want him to see you as more, you need to be more.”
She smiles, but I can tell it’s fake.
“I don’t need to be anything but who I am, Hannibal. I’ve spent a long time trying to please everyone. And what do I have to show for it? I still go to bed alone and have nothing but superficial friendships. It always makes me laugh how fucking quick bikers are to throw around labels. You’d think you’d all know better.”
