Page 38 of Gatling
“Look.” Kingpin scrubbed a hand over his mouth with a sigh. “I haven’t been spending as much time with the club as I used to. With my marriage, and the new baby, a lot of things have slipped through my fingers and landed on Blackbeard’s shoulders.”
Which wasn’t surprising, given that he was navigating fatherhood for the first time in his fifties. I shuffled my feet, recognizing the unspoken expectation that I should ask about his family. That was the polite thing to do—the socially acceptable thing to do.
For the most part, I prided myself on my stubbornness, my prickly demeanor. It kept me safe, protected, like armor.
But there were times like this where I noticed how that armor had warped me, disfigured me into this monstrous, broken…thing. Someone so cold-hearted, aloof, and unfeeling that I didn’t even care to ask about my boss’s baby boy.
I grew up like a wild animal, with teeth and claws. I didn’t know how to get close to someone without biting. Noah and Kelsie were the only exceptions. And even then, I fucked it up more often than I cared to admit.
“So,” I ventured. “How is he?”
Kingpin’s eyebrows flicked up slightly, amused.
“You mean Benji? He’s doing well. Still fussy about his peas, but I told Hattie he’ll learn to like them when they’re not a mushy green paste. We’re both grateful as hell that he finally sleeps through the night.”
I nodded automatically, not knowing what else to say.
Sleeping through the night. Fussy about peas. Being a dad.
God, it was a completely different world. Club business could get rough sometimes—like that turf war with the Forsaken MC, dragging on for years. Or that shootout in town last spring. And the ever present threat of getting caught by the cops when we broke the law.
And yet Kingpin didn’t seem fazed by it. He still went home to his kid, feeding him damn peas. As if he wasn’t marked by scars from this lifestyle. As if every man who bore the Blackjacks MC patch across his back fully expected he would never retire from the club. Because it would kill him first.
“Do you want to see baby pictures?” Kingpin asked.
I faltered.
No. Definitely not. I did my best to avoid babies and small children. Grown adults were uneasy in my presence. If I even looked at some poor kid, they would probably burst into tears. Besides, what if the Prez’s kid turned out to be as ugly as a turnip? I wasn’t the type to gush over a baby anyway—
“Relax,” Kingpin added, cutting into my thoughts. “I’m yanking your chain.”
I released a breath of relief.
“Don’t fucking do that to me, Prez.”
“I didn’t pay you a visit to brag about my kid.”
“Then what was it you wanted to talk about?” I asked.
Kingpin’s expression grew serious.
“You’ve been sending my boys all over the place. Keeping an eye on some girl. But you haven’t filled me in on any details as to why. I asked around, and it turns out that you haven’t breathed a word of it to anyone.”
I rocked back on my heels and glanced at my backpack. A quick escape would be the easy way out of this conversation. It wouldn’t resolve anything though. Prez would ask the same questions later down the road. Especially since I was calling the shots and using his man power.
“She’s a friend,” I said at last. Purposefully vague.
“A friend,” Kingpin repeated, his tone flat with disbelief. “She seems pretty special, since you’re making my men look after her.”
It was a gentle reminder, but firm. I’d been giving orders without informing my superior officers.
“She’s a friend,” I repeated. “And she’s having some trouble. I asked the boys for backup. If that’s a problem—”
“It’s not,” Kingpin interrupted. “You know it’s not.”
He stepped closer, holding my gaze. We squared off, saying nothing, eyes locked. I wouldn’t break. Neither would he.
Then he lightly thumped his fist against my chest.
