Zero Apologies (Lost Kings MC 14)

“No? What about Bull? No one thought he was a rat either. Until it almost broke this club.”

“That was Sway’s fault,” Hustler says.

As much as I’d love to lay all the blame at Sways feet, it’s not fair and these fuckers need to grow up. “No, it wasn’t. It was each and every one of you. We are our brother’s keeper. Period. You must have had questions about Bull at some point. Some of you knew Shadow was shady, but you went ahead and voted him in anyway. Looked the other way when he behaved badly.”

“What do you want, Z?” Hustler asks. “We all supposed to start snitching on each other now? Run to you and tattle?”

“It’s not snitching if it’s for the good of the club. If I think you’re being a fucking asshole, believe me, I have no problem telling you.”

Murphy, Teller, and Dex have moved about as far back from the table as they can get, obviously wanting no part in this conversation. Brewer turns to them anyway. “This how Rock runs things? You all tattle to Daddy when someone steps out of line?”

Teller glares at him. “No need to. We’re all responsible adults who own up to our shit and handle our business.”

“It’s only fair,” Murphy adds. “If I expect every one of my brothers to have my back when I need him, shouldn’t I protect them too?”

“It’s a matter of respect,” Dex says.

“Right,” Rooster agrees. “Respect—for your brothers and yourself. Courage and honor. That’s what this brotherhood needs.” He glances around the table. “Isn’t that the reason we all joined?”

Brothers share looks and nod.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I joined to get laid,” Hustler jokes.

“Yeah, you’re certainly too ugly to get pussy without that patch, old man.” Jigsaw claps him on the back. “It’s okay, brother.”

“Fuck you.” Hustler laughs and slaps Jiggy’s hand away.

Steer sits up and smacks his palm on the table. “I’ll be the first to admit, we’ve gotten lazy. Not gonna say anything bad about Sway, but we shoulda been helping him out more instead of freeloading and that has to end now.”

“Wait a second, who’s a freeloader?” Suds asks. “I work my fucking ass off—”

“You sit around and watch the news all day,” Hustler says.

“And fix shit when it gets broken.”

“I wasn’t finished.” Steer’s roar of a voice drowns out the other chatter. “From now on, if you want to bring someone not affiliated with the club to our clubhouse—males who might be potential prospects or hangarounds or a DTF female, you need to run it by me.”

“You seriously going to veto our pussy, brother?”

“I’m not saying no to anything. I want to run a check, that’s all. They need to have ID—”

“Something chicks should have anyway before coming in here,” Rooster points out. “You remember that club that got slapped with statutory charges down in Alabama—”

“You know shit was fucked up for that to happen. Don’t they let twelve-year olds like marry their cousins down there?” Grip says.

I smack the table a few times. “Stay on topic, please.”

“Thanks to Rooster, we now have the outside covered. Z and I talked about adding a front gate to the property and more cameras so we know who’s coming in and out before they roll up on us.”

Butcher’s been quiet at the end of the table for most of the meeting, but he sits forward. “Shoulda done it a long time ago. Who knows how many people have come into our parking lot because they thought this was still a seedy old motel. Dangerous.”

“Right. That’s another thing,” I say. “I want this place cleaned up.”

“Prez, it’s just going to get messed up again,” Hustler argues.

I turn the full force of my don’t-fuck-with-me glare on him. “Find a house mama, a cleaning service, whatever the fuck you want to do, but let’s start treating our space with some respect.”

Murphy raises his hand. “I got derailed with the whole getting-thrown-in-jail thing, Z, but I’m still working on the pool and other stuff we talked about.”

“Thank you.”

“Suck-up,” Hustler jokes.

Murphy flips him off.

“Last order of business. I’m going to be out of town for a few days. Taking care of some personal matters out in California.”

“You going to check out Pony’s place while you’re on the west coast?” Steer asks.

It had occurred to me to make a trip up to our Washington charter, but by now I’m sure everyone in the organization knows I took over for Sway at Priest’s request. Me stopping in to visit with another charter that’s had friction with Priest probably won’t go over well. “Nah, this is strictly a family trip.”

Steer nods. After the room clears out, he comes over and shakes my hand. “Probably better you don’t stop at Washington. I don’t think Pony’s getting things cleaned up to Priest’s satisfaction.”

“That was my thought too. Unless we’re invited, I don’t think they’ll appreciate us dropping by.”

He blows out a breath. “Fuck that, we got enough to keep us busy with our own charter.”

“Amen to that, brother.”

He pins me with a serious stare. “I’ll work on the stuff we talked about. You should celebrate your freedom. This shit with the arson and that little bitch could’ve gone bad, Z.”

The reality of the situation seems to be sinking in for Steer. Not wanting to lay any more guilt trips on him, I slap his shoulder. “It’s all good, brother. We came through in one piece.”

At least, I hope that’s true.

Chapter Thirty

Lilly

Weird doesn’t seem adequate to describe how it feels to have Z with us when we fly to California.

Three years ago, I made this trip alone. Scared, I blurted out a place that seemed far enough away from New York when I approached the ticket counter.

I’d never even been to California before.

I can’t lie and say I didn’t think about what it might be like to have Z by my side, holding my hand while we took off.

After his initial excitement over the charges being dropped, Z’s been quiet. Brooding almost. I’m hoping this trip will pull him out of his mood.

Maybe he’s afraid I’ll want to stay in California or that I’m starting to regret our life in New York. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

The first time I flew out here, I had no idea Chance was hitching a ride.

This morning, Chance sits by the window holding his father’s hand and staring out at the clouds. The emotions bubbling up inside me are too overwhelming to articulate.

The strange feeling inside me only intensifies once we land and pick up our rental car. The road to my old apartment feels like a foreign place I visited in a dream. Or nightmare. Sure, we pass familiar places. A million times, I pictured taking Z to breakfast at my favorite coffee shop. Or watching him drop Chance off at preschool.

I couldn’t allow those desires to creep up on me often, but they did.

We’re here together as a family now. Everything I was always too afraid to admit I wanted.

Chance doesn’t seem to have mixed emotions about anything. He scowls when I pull the rental car into our old parking space.

“I wanna go home,” he announces. “With Daddy.”

Z turns and reaches back, patting Chance’s arm. “We’re all going home together, buddy. We’re just packing up your stuff and sending it back east.”

In the rearview, I catch Chance’s squinty glare.

“Promith?”

Z nods. “Promise.”

Chance lets out the huff of a kid four times his age and it makes me chuckle.

“I thought you might want to say goodbye to Mrs. Thomas and some of your friends at school.”

He shrugs. How soon he forgot everyone and everything here. I guess that’s a good thing and it means I haven’t traumatized him too much with all th

e moving around. Having so many uncles and aunties at home willing to dote on him constantly probably doesn’t hurt either.

Inside the apartment, I find I’m self-conscious. The place isn’t a dump by any means, but it’s certainly not as nice as the place Z rented for us in New York. Or even my house in Lake George.

He follows me into the bathroom and watches while I pull items out of the medicine cabinet. In the mirror, I catch him staring at the bathtub.

“What’s wrong, Z?”

“We never…” He runs his hands through his hair and shifts from foot to foot. “With all the crazy shit that’s gone down, we never…You never told me more details about,” he reaches over and grasps my arm, gently turning it over and pulling up my sleeve, “this. How it happened. Where…” His voice trails off.

Never mind revisiting a topic I never want to talk about again, it’s unnerving as hell to see calm, confident, always-in-control Z rattled. I sense it’s his fear of upsetting me that’s stressing him out and that’s what stops me from telling him to fuck off, it’s none of his business.

“Is this where it happened?” he finally asks.

“No,” I whisper. “I had a different apartment. Smaller. I was in the hospital for…a while afterward and lost that place. Ted helped me rent this one when I was ready.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Ted did?”

“I told you he’s been a good friend to me.”

He grunts.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

He rubs his hand over his chest a few times. Like whatever question he’s holding back, physically hurts. “I ran into Jake a while back. Before all the shit with the arson.”

“How was he? I’ve been thinking I should go back and take more classes with him. Just the one probably helped me escape Shadow.”

A flash of pain twists his features for a second. “You’ll go back?”

“Sure. I like him.” I start filling the box in front of me again. “He’s a good teacher. Patient. Explains things well.”