Page 118 of The Trust We Broke
“Understood. But you need to tell me so I can make sure we always make the right call when it comes to Wren’s safety.”
“I can fill in half that story. Wren is technically wanted by the FBI.”
My mouth opens. “We were just fucking raided by the Feds. Why would you think it’s a good fucking idea to put someone wanted by them right in the middle of us?”
And why did I just promise him that I wouldn’t tell my brothers?
King puts his hands on my shoulders. “Do you trust me?”
It’s a test, one I’m very close to failing. Butcher gifted me the presidency, and my men rely on me to make the right call.
“Simple question, Grudge: Do you trust me?”
I look away and sigh, then return my gaze to my president. “You’ve never given me a reason not to.”
“Fair answer. I can’t say much more. But…Wren was… approached to do a job. They thought they were working for the organization, an illegal one, but it seems the person they were hired by was a mercenary. That organization now believes Wren stole twenty million dollars from them, not the mercenary. There’s a bounty on Wren’s head, and the feds found out. The FBI tried to take Wren in, to coerce them into working as an informant in exchange for not being charged for their illegal activities. But Wren managed to get away, and Calista asked usto help them. In the time since, I’ve trusted Wren with my life, and they didn’t let me down when the club needed help. They won’t let you down either. They’re like a fucking vault. I’ll tell them you know.”
“Why can’t the club know?”
“Because they’ll react the same way you did. Hiding someone wanted by the FBI is unnecessary heat. And the organization Wren fucked over appears to have very deep pockets given how hard they are trying to find them.”
“Fuck my life,” I mutter.
King smiles, sadly. “If it helps, I’ll forward you fifty thousand a month to offset any costs.”
The money would be a godsend, especially with the amount we just lost. “It would, for sure.”
“Done. But absolutely nothing must happen to Wren. And you need to make sure that your men keep their hands to themselves.”
“Does Wren even roll that way?”
“Even if they do, they need a different kind of life that’s a long way from any enterprise like ours. They’ve already lived fifteen lifetimes in it.”
“That almost sounds poetic.”
King opens his phone. His wallpaper is a photograph of him standing behind a pretty woman, his hands on her pregnant stomach, and his face softens when he looks at her. “You can blame my old lady for that.”
“You’re a lucky man.”
“Yeah. I am.” King reaches for my hand to shake it; his other hand squeezes my shoulder. “Welcome to the club, Grudge,” he says.
“The club?”
For a moment, he almost looks sorry for me. “Yeah, the president’s club, where we know things and do things but can’ttell anyone else why.” He makes a move for the door handle. “Things that keep us up at night, make it hard to sleep. Things that are hard to articulate to our brothers because we can’t give them the whole picture. That’s why you need them to trust you implicitly—so they know you’ll always do the right thing for them over and over again.”
When he sums it up like that, I think about the weight Butcher has carried all this time. And why he looks so fucking relaxed and happy now he’s out on the road with Greer.
“I appreciate you trusting me. It’s an honor.”
King eyes me carefully. “I was told you stepped in the way of a blade meant for Butcher when the two of you were locked up.”
I stub my toe into the floor. “Anyone would have done the same.”
King smiles. “Not everyone would. Butcher assures me you have the Outlaws written through your very core.”
That’s so Butcher. “I do.”
“Even though your dad went away for life for the club. It didn’t make you bitter?”
