Page 46 of Sinner's Malice

Sighing, he apologized, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t let him get to me. When do you think he will wake up?”

“Not anytime soon. He and Tessa were up all night. Apparently, York’s got the flu.”

Bane nodded.

“What about Mercy?”

Closing my book, I gave the man my undivided attention.

“What in the world is wrong with you? You know damn well Mercy and everyone else is still at home. It’s five o’clock inthe damn morning. What the hell are you doing here so early, anyway?”

The man said nothing.

Shocker!

Groaning, I got to my feet and sighed. “Fine. You don’t want to talk to me, then don’t. But I will not sit here while you grill me about the club brothers. This is my time. My quiet time before the shitstorm of the day wreaks havoc.”

Flinching, Bane sat up straight, reaching across the table for me.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. Wait. That’s a lie. I know, I just don’t know how Montana is going to react. The fact is, I don’t even know what to tell him. All I know is that Malice called me and said Popeye was going to spill the beans about me. But I have no clue what Popeye thinks he has on me.”

Sighing, I sat back down.

Cupping my coffee cup, I looked down into the dark brew and asked, “How did he sound?”

“Who? Malice?”

I nodded.

“The same. Angry as usual.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you bothered by this. You already have enough on your plate but thank you for asking and listening to an old man ramble.”

“Either you tell me, or I hear from someone else. It’s all the same to me. You, of all people, should know there are no secrets in this club.”

Bane looked at me and then added, “Malice said ‘Popeye is getting ready to nark. Whatever you’re hiding. Time’s up.’”

I leaned back in my chair and took a real good look at the man.

“Malice doesn’t mince his words, Bane. You know that. If he called you personally to give you a heads-up, then he believes Popeye has something on you. Whatever that may be is anyone’s guess and for you to find out.”

“Find out what?” we both heard Montana groggily say.

Turning, I watched when the president of the club walked down the stairs, cradling his son.

Poor kid looked awful.

Then again, what did I know?

“What the hell are you doing here so damn early?” the tired and cranky man balked, taking a seat at the table as he rubbed his sleeping son’s back.

Bane frowned, leaning over and placed the back of his hand against York’s forehead, then whispered, “Fever broke.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Malice called me. That’s why I’m here.”