After a knock, I entered Dad’s office. He gave me a strained smile. “What do you want to talk about, princess?”
“I want to hear your honest opinion on how I can earn the respect of your soldiers and really become part of the Famiglia. Half-assing it won’t work, I realize that now.”
“They won’t see you as part of the Famiglia as long as we don’t officially make you part of the Famiglia.”
“Then let me take the oath.”
Dad shook his head. “You’d have to cut your palm and receive the tattoo.”
I raised my eyebrows. Dad’s eyes moved to my earlobe, turning scary for a moment before he released a harsh breath. “I wish I had killed Earl. Are you sure you don’t want me to kill the other Whites?”
Gray and… Maddox. The man who kept popping into my head uninvited. Killing him wouldn’t change that.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I said firmly. I walked over to Dad’s side and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Maybe your men need a gesture, one that shows I really want this and that you’ll demand certain things from me in turn as well. I don’t mind cutting my palm, Dad. Not after surviving Tartarus.”
“Because you suffered cuts by Tartarus’ hands because of me, I don’t want you to suffer them again.”
“This time it would be on my terms, my blade doing the cut.”
“It’ll be painful nonetheless.”
“I can handle it,” I said firmly.
“I know you can.” Dad touched my cheek. “But I won’t have you tattooed in front of a hall of leering men. You’ll always be treated differently, a tattoo won’t change it.”
I knew when to stop negotiating. “When can I take the oath?”
Dad shook his head with a chuckle. “There’s an initiation of four boys in a month, or if you want to be initiated by yourself, then—”
“No, I want to be initiated with the men.”
Dad nodded once. “You’ve chosen a very difficult path. I’m glad you won’t be burdened with White in addition.”
It took me two days and a few thousand dollars of bribe money to find out where Gray was. My old contacts had been leery of me, as expected, and hadn’t been willing to hand over information as a favor. I’d barely left the last biker bar alive but at least with information about Gunnar’s newest hiding place. Word about me becoming a traitor had made the rounds far quicker than I’d anticipated.
And not just that, people knew that I had killed Earl. That was information only very few people had, and one of them had obviously spilled the beans gladly, probably in the hopes to have me killed soon.
I had my suspicions. Luca might have let me go because Marcella asked him to, but he’d prefer it if I never returned to her. He wanted me dead. I had no doubt about it. I wouldn’t have pegged him the sneaky type, but desperate times…
Of course, he wasn’t the only one who knew about me killing Earl. Matteo, Amo, Marcella, and Growl at least… maybe more of Luca’s soldiers. Except for Marcella, each of them could have let the information slip to dispose of me.
The hut where Gunnar hid with a few other bikers wasn’t surrounded by a fence like our last clubhouse had been but that didn’t mean it was less protected. Gunnar had a penchant for booby traps. Something he’d learned in his time in the military and later refined as part of the prepper scene. I parked my bike down the dirt road that led up to the hut. There were three tire tracks, deep grooves that had been forced into the ground over time. It only made sense that people kept to the tracks if there was danger around them. The problem was I didn’t trust all three tracks to be equally safe. I had a feeling one of them at least was a trap and hid several bombs waiting to tear me apart. I scanned the ground left and right of the dirt road, hoping for a sign that it was safe there. But the grass hid possible tracks and bombs from the eye. Not to mention that I had never been good at track work. That had been Gray’s thing. My best bet was to choose one of the tracks on the dirt road and hope for the best.
I stood on my tiptoes to get a better view of the hut. After a few seconds, I spotted the roof of a truck. If Gunnar and his friends used the truck, they might use this track to get up there, then only the outer tracks would be safe. Unless they used a back road I didn’t know anything about or didn’t use the truck at all… from my vantage point, I couldn’t even see if the thing was still in working condition.
Taking a deep breath, I started my bike again and was about to ride in the outer left track when a voice called, “I wouldn’t pick that track if I were you.”
My head shot up, my eyes going wide then my lips pulled into a smile as I spotted Gray. He didn’t look happy in the slightest to see me. He was still in his Tartarus cut. Seeing it tightened my chest. Until recently, I’d gone nowhere without my cut, only taking it off for sleep, and occasionally sex, though most ladies loved to see me in it.
Behind him, Gunnar appeared too, looking even unhappier. Even from a distance, I could see the fat lump on his forehead, close to his temple, where I’d hit him. “What ya doing here, Maddox? You aren’t welcome here.”
“I come in peace. We need to talk.”
Gray shook his head. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t believe that I came in peace or if he didn’t want to talk to me.
“Word is you’re one of Vitiello’s henchmen now, Mad. Killing bikers is your new job. Not sure I want you anywhere near me and my friends,” Gray shouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it in the clubhouse. I don’t want either of you dead, and I’m not one of Vitiello’s henchmen, all right?”
They didn’t need to know that my future job description entailed hunting down Earl supporters.
Gray shook his head again, muttering something to Gunnar. It was driving me crazy that he was too far away to hear what he was going on about.
“Can I come up to talk?”
Gunnar pointed a warning finger at me. “Drop your weapons, and don’t try to fuck us up, Mad. I used to like you but I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“I’m dropping my guns now.” I removed the gun and the knife from my boot and my belt and put them down on the ground in a very obvious way. Despite what had happened, I still felt a certain amount of trust in these two. Maybe it was foolish nostalgia. “Done.”
“Our friends inside the hut have a very nervous trigger finger—”
“I get it,” I interrupted Gunnar. “I mess up and you kill me. I’ll behave, I swear.”
“What’s your swear even worth?” Gray shouted. “You’re a liar and a cheat.”
“You can pick the left track,” Gunnar said. “The middle’s a bad idea.”
I glanced to Gray who had warned me about the left track, then back to Gunnar.
“The kid’s a bit pissed at you for killing his old man,” Gunnar explained.