Secrets We Keep (Ruthless Sinners MC 3) - Page 78

Once they were gone, Mom reached into her purse and took out a small envelope. As she handed it to me, she said, “I thought you might like to have this.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.” She reached over and gave me a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Marlowe.”

Seconds later, they were gone. I knew it was the last time I would see them, and honestly, I was okay with that. I was a little curious about the conversation my mother had started in the kitchen. I wanted to know what else she had to say, but then again, maybe it was best I didn’t hear the rest of her story. Some secrets are simply not meant to be shared.

Chapter 23


When it comes to war, it’s not always about who’s stronger, who’s smarter, or who has the upper hand. It’s about timing. It’ll trump every fucking card you have in your hand. Stark thought he had us. He thought all his planning and conniving would enable him to come into our city, our territory, and finish what Polito started. He’d bought Crockett’s and established it as his base of operations. Menace had read through the police reports and discovered Stark had brought in enough artillery to take out half the east side. The asshole actually thought he had us. He was wrong. We were the ones with the right timing, and with one mighty blow, we ended Stark and any chance he had of taking over our territory.

After ensuring the club was no longer in any danger, Viper removed the club’s lockdown, and the brothers were free to go about business as usual. I’d hoped I would be able to make up for lost time with Marlowe, but that didn’t happen—not with Kate underfoot. Anytime I got close to getting intimate with Marlowe, Kate would either call for her, pleading that she didn’t want to be alone, or she’d just barge into the room, acting completely clueless about the fact she’d just interrupted something. I just didn’t get it. You’d think the girl had some kind of fucking radar that would kick in whenever I was around.

Needless to say, we were both relieved when Marlowe’s folks came to get her. I thought Marlowe would’ve been ecstatic to see them go, but from the moment they left, she’d been sitting in the living room staring at an envelope her mother had given her. Curious to know what had her so upset, I sat down next to her and asked, “Bad news?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted it up to show me. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. There was something about the look on Mom’s face that gave me a weird feeling about it.” She looked down at the envelope and mumbled, “I don’t know if I can take any more bad news.”

“Then, toss it.”

“But it could be good news.” She studied the envelope a moment longer, then took it and slapped it against my chest. “You read it. If it’s bad news, then you can just burn it and we’ll forget she ever gave it to me. If it’s good news, then we forget about what a spaz I’m being about all this, and we celebrate.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, now read it before I chicken out.”

She dropped her head in her hands, shielding her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to watch. I’ll know by the look on your face if it’s bad news.”

“Hold up...I’ve got a poker face.”

“Ummm, no. You don’t.” Still shielding her eyes, she shook her head back and forth. “I can always tell what you’re thinking.”

“No way.”

She looked up just long enough to ask, “Have you ever actually won a game of poker?”

“No, but that...”

“Point made.” She returned her head to her hands as she mumbled, “Now, read.”

Even though I felt certain she was wrong, very wrong, I didn’t bother arguing. I knew she was eager to know what was in the envelope, so I carefully opened it and pulled out the letter inside. I looked down at the piece of paper, and I couldn’t believe what I was reading. These past few days, Marlowe had been hit with so much about her past. It seemed as if all her family secrets had been revealed except for one, and I held it in my hand. I was still sitting there staring at it when Marlowe asked, “Well?”

“Yeah.” I handed her the letter, I said, “You’re going to want to read this.”

“Is it bad?”

“Only you can answer that.” I gave her a little nudge. “Go on. Read it.”

Marlowe let out a sigh, then looked down at the letter. I watched as her eyes widened with surprise. When she finally finished going over every line, she looked up at me and said, “I don’t believe it. The whole time I was growing up, she was just two cities away from me.”

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