Page 13 of Minus

“You’re not my boss, or my parole officer,” I countered.

“Cutter knows the rules and so do you, Cricket. If Crow finds out about this, he’s gonna fuckin’ lose his mind.”

Crow was the president of Hatch’s MC, the Dogs of Fire. My brother’s club treated me like family, and I loved them. The Burning Saints… not so much. There had been a long standing “bitter peace” between the two clubs, and me and Minus’s young romance didn’t help matters at all. Ultimately, it’s why Crow and Cutter made the agreement that club and family members wouldn’t darken each other’s doors. If my brothers or I wanted to see Cutter, we’d meet on neutral ground. Anywhere but either of the club’s compounds. Cutter broke the rules when he summoned me to the Sanctuary, and I’d broken them by going.

“In fairness to our uncle, Hatch, heisdying. It’s harder for him to get around in his current condition.”

“You should have talked to me first.”

“Again, brother, grown ass woman here. I don’t have to ask your permission, I’m not in your club.”

He sighed. “Fair enough.”

I bit back a smile. I loved Maisie. She’d tempered my brother and given him a sense of peace he’d never known before. We’d had a tough life. Our mother had died when I was little, then my father had been sent to prison after killing a man. Hatch had singlehandedly raised me and my three other brothers, despite being barely an adult himself. I owed him everything. But that didn’t mean I liked it when hethrew out ‘maximum dad energy.’

“So, what did Cutter say?” Hatch asked.

“Well,” I paused cautiously before continuing. “Cutter wants me and Minus—”

“What the fuck?” he snapped.

“Can Ipleasefinish?” I ground out.

“Minus was there?”

“Yes, but chill,” I said.

“What could you possibly say that involves Cutter and Minus that would make mechill?”

“Cutter wants me and Minus to take over the Club.”

“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” he hissed.

“Well, he was as high as a kite, and obviously not in a healthy state of mind, but I figured you’d want to know what was going on.”

He dragged his hands down his face. “What the fuck is he up to?”

“Who knows? A dying man attempting to pass on his legacy?”

“Maybe,” Hatch said. “But why try and pass it to a guy who’s on his shit list, oryou?”

“I have no idea, but I have no intention of ever going back to the Burning Saints’ Sanctuary, talking with Cutter, or Jase “Minus” Vincent again.”

Hatch shook his head. “Fuck me, Cricket, I have no idea what to make of all this.”

“You think I do?”

He shook his head.

“Well, I don’t,” I said, rising to my feet. “And rather than waste my time trying to figure it out, I’m gonna spend the rest of my evening hanging with my niece and sister, so how ’bout that beer?”

He chuckled. “Comin’ right up.”

“And ice,” I added.

“The beer’s been in the fridge. It’s plenty cold,” Hatch replied.

“No, the ice isn’t for my beer. It’s for my hand.”

---