Page 22 of Finish Line
“Ha-ha, come here.” I pull him in for a hug. “It’s good to have you home, son.”
“It’s good to be home,” he says.
“Your sister is up at the house resting before tonight,” I tell him.
“Resting or avoiding me?” he asks. “It’s okay, Pops. I get it.”
“She’ll come around. You know how stubborn she can be,” I say.
“Yeah, she gets it from you,” he laughs out.
“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Raze mutters from behind me.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “Truth or not, you better watch your mouth.”
Shadow laughs. “Raze, right? The one who tamed my sister?”
“There’s no tamin’ that woman,” Raze chuckles. “I love her that way, though.”
“Takes a special kinda man to deal with that rowdy chick,” Shadow says to him.
“Alright, alright,” I interrupt the two of them. “We got a room set up for you. Bought you some clothes, all that shit. Prospect Pete will show you which one it is.”
“Thanks, Pops.” He starts for the door.
“Beware, the ladies decorated in there,” I warn him.
He laughs in response. Can’t say I didn’t warn him. When they decorate, they go all out. No matter what the occasion.
“Did Minx seem alright to you?” Raze asks me.
“Yeah, why?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“She’s seemed kind of off lately,” he tells me. “I could be imagining things.”
“She would tell you if somethin’ was wrong,” I assure him. “She’s probably feelin’ some anxiety about Shadow bein’ home. She hasn’t seen or even talked to him in six years. Talk to her. See what she says.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll give her some time. Talk to her tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll see you at the party. I need to run out to the shop and get some work done.”
“Watch your six.” I pat him on the back, and he takes off. I head inside the clubhouse to find Shadow. I need to talk to him about our recent losses before he asks where they are. I find his bedroom door open. He’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
I tap my knuckles on the door frame, causing him to look my way. “Can we talk?”
“What’s up, Pops?” he asks. I take that as an okay to come into the room and sit at the end of the bed.
“I should have told you sooner, but once you told me you were comin’ home, I knew it would be better to tell you in person,” I start.
“Tell me what? What’s goin’ on?” He sits up, leaning against the headrest.
“You remember me tellin’ you about the cartel hittin’ us the night of Rascal’s wedding?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he draws out.
“We had a couple of casualties,” I tell him. “Thor and Trigger.”
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, dropping his head. “Please tell me we have a plan to get back at those pricks?”
“We’re workin’ on it. We can’t rush it, though,” I explain. “I’m not losin’ anymore brothers.”
