Chapter TWENTY-ONE

THE LAST couple of days spent with Mitch was the best weekend Finn could remember having in years. He smiled at the memory of the two of them doing absolutely nothing. All they did for two days was hang around the house and spend hours talking. They cooked simple food on the barbecue and even played Yahtzee. Who would have thought big, tough Mitch would be happy to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the banged-up coffee table and help Finn relive some of the happier, more content moments from his childhood?

“What are you smiling at?” Pete said as Finn entered the workshop.

“Nothing.”

Pete raised a brow but didn’t question him further, for which Finn was grateful. He knew he couldn’t keep the smile off his face—however, there was no way in hell he was going to admit his shit-eating grin was 100 percent due to the smiling man winking at him from the other side of the large room.

Mitch looked hot leaning against a workbench, his arms folded across his broad chest. He held a Zippo in one hand, spinning the stainless-steel lighter between his fingers like a magician doing tricks—and what miracles those fingers could perform.

There was the sound of a throat clearing, and Finn’s face heated when he saw Pete had turned his head and was looking at Mitch before settling his gaze back on Finn. Pete had his back to Mitch, but he’d obviously responded to Finn’s lack of attention and turned to see what, or more accurately whom, had captured Finn’s focus.

Finn dragged his attention back to Pete and hoped to God he wasn’t blushing.

“Hey, have you got a few minutes to talk?” Finn asked quickly in an effort to avert any comments from Pete. “I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to see each other without all this”—Finn waved a hand at the workshop with its hive of activity—“without a load of people around. Fuck, I feel like I don’t get any privacy anymore, not since I moved back to Sydney.”

Pete nodded, then glanced briefly over his shoulder at Mitch before heading to the door and beckoning for Finn to follow.

The heat hit like a wall as they stepped outside, the hot afternoon sun radiating against the dark asphalt. Finn followed Pete to the shade cast by a large gum tree on the property boundary. Traffic noise carried across the parking lot, but they were alone apart from a couple of guys standing around a bike parked in the lot at the far end of the building.

Pete lit a cigarette and sucked in a lungful of smoke, holding it before releasing a thin stream between his dry and cracked lips. He held the pack out to Finn, who shook his head. Pete put the pack back into his shirt pocket, took another drag on his cigarette, and leaned on the fence.

Finn used the opportunity to study him. Pete vibrated with nervous energy, or maybe it was the DTs. Had he stopped taking drugs, or was he back on them? It had become clear over the past weeks that Pete, despite reassuring Finn he was trying to put drugs behind him, was failing. But that wasn’t surprising given the amount of time Pete spent around Rocky. Finn had gotten a sense that Rocky was dabbling more and more in his own product, so the temptation for Pete must have been great.

“Are you doing okay, Pete?”

Pete scuffed the ground with his boot, kicking up a small cloud of dust and splinters of bark from the gum tree. He looked up and nodded. “Sure.”

“You don’t look good, mate.”

“Thanks for not taking it easy on me, Finn. I’d hate for you to sugarcoat anything.” Pete huffed out a mirthless laugh, then drew on the cigarette again. His eyes grew dark, and he finally held Finn’s gaze. “But seriously, I do appreciate you asking. I guess I’m not in a good place right now.”

The honesty surprised Finn. Despite the bond they’d formed in Melbourne, events since Finn’s arrival in Sydney had meant they hadn’t had much opportunity to speak one-on-one—a few quick phone calls and a number of texts being the extent of their private conversations. The rest of the time they were surrounded by other people. Even the conversations via text were stilted, both of them reluctant to share too much in a way that could be intercepted or seen by others. So Finn was pleased to see Pete still trusted him enough to be open about something so personal.

“I’m sorry, Pete. Is there something I can do? A way I can help?”

“Nah. I’m dealing with it. I’ve made my bed, and I’ve got to lie in it.” He sounded resigned, as if he’d given up, and that didn’t sit easy with Finn.

“But you can get help. There are places you can go. If money’s the problem—”

Pete grabbed his arm with surprising ferocity, his fingers digging deep. “Stop, Finn. Money’s not the problem. It never has been.”

“But I’ll support you. You can come and stay with me, live out at the house for a bit, out of the reach of… of Rocky… of stuff.”

“Support isn’t the problem either.” Pete took a deep breath. “And you and I both know that I can’t avoid Rocky.”

“But if I ran interference—” Finn had a flashback of telling Mitch how Carl had stepped in to protect him from Rocky. “What if I kept Rocky off your back?”

“It’s not that simple, and you know why. I want to be close. I need to be close, especially if I’m going to get Rocky to let up on you. Give you the space you need to….” Pete let his words fade and tossed a glance toward the building.

“I hate the thought of you sucking up to Rocky to give me space and because you feel you have something to pay back. There has to be another way.”

Pete snorted, took one last drag, and tossed the remains of his cigarette to the asphalt. “Let’s be honest, Finn. I said I wanted to make amends for some of the shit I’ve done, and I mean it. I really do.” Pete ground his boot onto the butt before he darted his gaze back to Finn’s. “But you think I don’t like being able to get high all the time? You think for a moment that I don’t want to get high without having to go looking for the shit? Wake up! I’m a fucking junkie, not a good guy, and definitely not worth you trying to save.”

“But you are a good guy. No matter what you say, you’re worth saving! I’ve seen what you’re doing, and I know it’s coming from the right place.” Finn thumped his chest. “Your heart’s in the right place.”

“Listen here, Finn, and you listen good. Someone tried to save me once. Tried to get me support, paid for me to go into rehab—fuck—they nearly sacrificed their career for me too. I couldn’t do it then, and I can’t do it now. It’s too late for me. But it’s not too late for you. Just a little bit longer, and you can get away from this place, and hopefully me too. One day we’ll both be living far away from here. You need to focus on that, not on me. Got it? I’ve got my job to do, and you’ve got yours. We can’t lose sight of that, or we’ll both be fucked. Listen, if something happens to me—”

“Nothing’s going to happen—” Even as he said the words, Finn knew he was lying. Being involved with the Soldiers meant anything could happen.

“Fuck, Finn. Just listen.” Pete stepped closer, urgency in his voice. “If something happens to me, you need to go to Mitch. You need to tell him what’s going on with Rocky, with the club. You need to tell him what’s in the books. You need to tell him everything.”

“Okay.” He nodded reluctantly.

“I mean it. You can trust him. The rest of them are arseholes, but not Mitch. Mitch, he’s one of the real good guys. He’ll be on your side; he’ll help you.”

Warmth flooded Finn’s chest at the words, at hearing Pete validate what Finn felt about Mitch, only it faded fast. “I know you worked with Mitch before, but he’s involved in all of this. He does what Rocky says, just like the rest of us. He knows what goes down around here. He can’t be that good a guy, no matter how trustworthy you think he is.” Finn felt disloyal uttering those words. His gut told him he could trust Mitch—fuck, he could trust him with his life, but….

“You can,” Pete insisted. “There’s stuff you don’t know, stuff I want to tell you. For now you’ll just need to trust me on this.”

They both turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and saw Rocky, Stack, and Mitch heading their way across the car park.

Pete gripped his arm, pulling him close and speaking low. “There’s no time to talk now, so just trust me on this. I’ll make sure we can catch up later this week, and I’ll tell you everything I know. Mitch is on our side, Finn.”

Finn’s mind spun as he tried to make sense of what Pete was saying. On our side?

“Just the two people I wanted to see.” Rocky grinned as he joined them. “We’re going back to my place for a party. You coming?”

“Sure.” Pete’s words were directed at Rocky, but his eyes pleaded with Finn, no doubt looking for Finn’s confirmation that he understood. Finn nodded, a brief dip of his head, hoping he conveyed that he’d do as Pete asked—if something went wrong, he’d talk to Mitch. Pete was on edge, and he wanted to reassure his friend that he didn’t need to worry about him. Once he saw Pete’s face relax, Finn turned to his brother.

“I need to close up here,” Finn said. “And I’m still beat from being sick. I’ll give the party a miss.”

“Yeah. But nah. That won’t be happening.” Rocky swung an arm around Finn’s neck and hauled him against him. To anyone else it would look like a friendly hug, but the force against his throat made it obvious Rocky was delivering a message. “Wouldn’t want you to miss all the fun. It’s a celebration of sorts. Stack’s closed another deal. Things are definitely going in our favor at the moment. I think you might be our lucky charm, little brother.” Rocky grazed his knuckles over Finn’s hair as he pulled his head down into a noogie.

Stack laughed, no doubt at what he perceived as casual brotherly antics, or maybe he liked to see Finn squirm. In fact, it was probably enjoyment at seeing Finn being pushed around, given Stack was the type of guy who’d get his thrills from seeing someone kick a puppy.

As Rocky’s arm left his neck, Finn met Stack’s cold eyes head-on and forced a smile to his face, although inwardly he was seething. He knew he’d eventually relent and end up doing what Rocky demanded, but there was no way he was giving in too easily. He not only wanted to stand his ground in front of his brother and his cronies, but he wanted to get some time with Mitch, to feel him out about the stuff Pete was hinting at. He didn’t want to spend hours hanging around at Rocky’s place watching the guys drink beer and getting wasted with club groupies.

He straightened and took a deep breath. “I’ve got stuff to take care of. You don’t need me around. You’ve got plenty of people who’ll be happy enough to party with you.” He took a step back, then turned to Mitch. “Give me a hand tidying a few things up, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Before he’d taken another step, Rocky grabbed him by the wrist and swung him around. Pain flared as his arm was wrenched backward, and he found himself yanked up against his brother’s body. Rocky’s grip around his wrist was excruciating, but even that faded as his arm was pulled farther back, and the agony flashed into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

His knees buckled as his vision went white around the edges. Finn swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on breathing. A couple of deep breaths, and the world regained clarity, although the pressure on his arm and shoulder didn’t let up.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do, kid, and don’t you forget it,” Rocky hissed against his ear, his breath hot against Finn’s cheek. “I’ve got no fucking idea why you keep trying this shit, but I’m the one in charge. The sooner you learn that, the sooner we’ll start getting along. Stop making things tougher on yourself than they need to be.”

Finn opened his eyes. Stack stood with a sneer on his face. Pete was staring at the ground, kicking the butt he’d stomped out earlier, obviously avoiding the scene in front of him. But it was Mitch, as Finn struggled in Rocky’s hold, that caused a blast of pain in Finn’s chest that rivaled the agony in his shoulder. Arms folded across his chest, not a flicker of emotion passed across Mitch’s features as he held Finn’s gaze. Finn could understand Pete’s reluctance to get involved, but he thought he’d see some sympathy in Mitch’s reaction. How the hell can he stand there and watch Rocky hurt me? Finn knew there’d be no way he could stand by and watch the same thing happen to Mitch. So much for Pete’s advice that Mitch was a good guy who’d help him!

When Rocky finally released his grip, the relief was immense. Not just reduction of the physical pain, but the ability to get away from Mitch’s scrutiny, to turn his back on the man who had just proven he was one of Rocky’s men and that Rocky and the club would always come first.

Any desire for quiet time alone with Mitch fled, and suddenly an evening at Rocky’s surrounded by people and noise sounded much more appealing.