Page 39 of Property of Tacoma
He nods, accepting my answer even though I know he can tell I’m not giving him the full story. That’s how it works. He might be my son, and one day he’ll fill my shoes, but he’s not patched in.
Not yet, anyway.
“Why don’t you go help your grandma in the kitchen?” I suggest. “Make sure she doesn’t burn the place down.”
He rolls his eyes but stands, doing as I’ve asked. “Fine.”
I laugh, watching him head toward the kitchen.
Once he’s gone, I turn back to my brothers, my expression hardening. “We’ve got problems.”
“No shit,” Bash mutters. “The mayor, now this? Someone’s making a play.”
“The question is who,” Story adds, leaning in. “Sinners are the obvious choice, but...”
“But it feels too obvious,” I finish for him. “Like someone wants us to think it’s them.”
Gator nods slowly. “A diversion?”
“Maybe,” I say, rubbing my jaw thoughtfully. “Or maybe they’re just that fucking brazen.”
We fall silent, each lost in our own thoughts.
There’s a storm coming. I can feel it in my bones.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, there’s Foxy—this wild card I never saw coming.
A woman who shot a man to save my brother, who’s right now showing my daughter the tricks she’s taught her raccoon.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
CHAPTER NINE
“So you’re Shade’s granddaughter, huh?”
The deep voice startles me, and I nearly knock over my beer.
Turning to find Eagle sliding onto the bar stool next to me, I offer a smile.
I’d been so lost in watching the prospects clean up around the clubhouse that I hadn’t heard him approach.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I reply, warmth spreading through me at the mention of my grandfather. Pops is my hero—always has been.
Eagle nods slowly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he studies my face. “I knew your father. Sythe was a good man.” His expression softens. “I was really sorry to hear about his passing.”
The familiar ache blooms in my chest, and I have to swallow hard before I can respond. “Thanks.”
It’s been ten years since cancer took my dad, and despite what people say about time healing all wounds, it doesn’t get easier.
You just learn to live with the hole they leave behind.
“He saved my ass once in Daytona, back in ’89,” Eagle continues, a faraway look in his eyes. “Bar fight gone sideways. Sinners had me cornered in the john. Your dad came busting in like some kind of avenging angel.” He chuckles at the memory. “We didn’t even know each other then.”
I smile despite the ache. That sounds like Dad. He was always rushing headlong into trouble, especially when someone needed help.
Like father, like daughter, I guess.
Eagle pats my shoulder gently as he stands. “Better go see if Roxy needs help in the kitchen. That woman thinks she can do everything herself.” His eyes twinkle with affection for his wife. “Been like that for forty years.”
