Cutting to the chase, I ask, “How many men do the Titans have in the club during the day?” Her eyes snap to mine.
“Um…” she starts, her voice nothing more than a whisper. I know she’s stronger than this meek little mouse shit she’s playing.
“Louder!” I yell, wanting to get this shit over with so I can take the motherfucker out who had the balls to attack the club. He should have been taken care of a long time ago. I guess my father thought blood over the brothers. Unfortunately for him, I don’t believe blood makes you family.
Her eyes blaze with a burning heat. There we go. There’s the Monet I know.
“Usually four to five,” she answers with gusto. “But there’s always someone coming and going.”
“I assume they’re packing?” Pegs asks, looking at Monet.
She nods.
“Tell me about Damian. Does he stay at the club?” Hollywood goes next.
“He stays there. He hardly leaves unless he’s doing a job or something.” She shrugs, crossing her feet at the ankles. I narrow my gaze, trying to figure her out. I can’t help but notice she’s telling us everything we ask. Is it because she’s a rat or because she wants Damian dead? Surely it’s the second one after the shit he’s pulled with her.
“How many doors to the club?” Pegs asks, and my eyes slide to him.
She raises her hand with two fingers up, her gaze shifting around the room, taking in the men and lack of decor on the walls.
“Can we use you as bait?” Bellamy pipes in, and my head snaps in his direction. He sits at the back of the table, his feet kicked up, picking his nails with a pocketknife.
“Um…” she stumbles with her reply, her confidence slipping. I instantly want to protect her. She doesn’t have anyone in her corner, and I know how that feels.
“You mean like she did you?”
He drops his feet and glares at me for defending her.
“I’m just asking if she’s fucking Uncle Damian. We might be able to just use her to get to him.”
He holds his knife out to the side, pointing at her. “Fuck you!” Monet retorts, her cheeks reddening.
“No. She’s not going back there. We can’t use her as bait. Damian could give two shits about her dead or alive.” Bellamy tilts his head to the side with a smirk. He’s toying with me, and he knows it.
“One less mouth to feed is all I’m saying.” His smirk turns into a full grin.
“I said no. She’s not going near that place,” I declare. All eyes shift to me. I have two weeks with her, and I demand every day. She makes me feel things I’ve never known before, patience, rage, something soft and warm.
“Okay. We’ll figure something else out,” Pegs says with a shrug. The rest of the men agree, all but Bellamy who looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Which I have.
“Pegs, take Monet back to her room,” I mutter behind my hand. “I’m going to call local chapters and see if they have any additional information on the Titans,” I tell the table, hoping one of them can offer some insight on The Titans.
20
Godric
A joint sits lit in the ashtray, smoke dancing from it toward the ceiling while I stare at the burner phone in front of me. I have several people I can call who would tell me anything I want to know. There are several Seven Knight chapters, and we have one another’s back just as much as the brother beside me.
Reaching for the phone, I dial Antichrist, who holds up the New York chapter. The man is probably more fucked up than I am, but he’s been around. If anyone knows anything about the Titans, it’s him. He picks up on the second ring.
“Speak.”
“I have a problem with our support club, the Titans. You got any details on them that will help me take them out?” I ask, straight to the point.
“They party every night, so the place is always packed. You wanna kill them, strike at dawn,” he says, and the line goes dead.
That’s actually very helpful. At least I know when to hit them now.
Grabbing my joint, I take a hit, hold it, and dial the next person on my list before exhaling.
“Yeah?” Viking answers, and I set my joint down. He’s a man of little words so I need to pay attention to what he says.
“I got some shit going down and need some insight on our support club, the Titans. You got anything?”
He grunts, the phone crackling. “They’re idiots. Swarm them and you’ll take them out. That club’s needed to go for a while now.” He hangs up, keeping it short, and I couldn’t agree more.
Sitting back, Pegs walks into the room and takes the seat next to me. Grabbing the joint, he smokes it down ’til there’s nothing left.