Tiny's eyes flew open. "What? Where?" Breathless, Tiny frantically scanned the waiting room.
Deuce released him with a light shove. "Who killed The Judge and his old lady?" he demanded.
There was no sense in beating around the bush. The Hells Horsemen and the Silver Demons were more than just business partners. While still technically two clubs, they both operated under one umbrella and functioned as one unit-a unit both Deuce and Preacher presided over. Soon though, all of that power would be going to Deuce's eldest son, Cage, and who-the-fuck-ever the Demons chose to replace Preacher. Long story short, Demon business was Horsemen business and vice versa, and so Deuce figured he had every goddamn right to know who the fuck killed the former president of the Silver Demons.
"Wh-what?" Sputtering and wide-eyed, Tiny glanced nervously around the room.
"You heard me," Deuce growled, his irritation mounting. "Who killed The Judge?"
Tiny pushed himself into as much of an upright position as his overly round body would allow. "Ain't nobody ever figured that shit out, and why the fuck you bringin' this up now? Ain't it bad enough my Prez is-"
"Your Prez is on his fuckin' deathbed spillin' his guts to Eva. Tellin' her all about Debbie and the summer he met her."
Placing his hands on the loveseat's armrests, Deuce leaned down into Tiny's personal space. His next words were spoken softly, but with deadly intonation. "I'm guessin' you remember that summer, yeah?"
Tiny's eyes grew rounder, wider, and he began to shake his head, his heavy mass of gray curls bouncing riotously around his shoulders. "You're lyin'!" he shouted, and Deuce quickly straightened in order to avoid the mist of spittle flying from Tiny's mouth.
"You're lyin'!" Tiny repeated as he attempted to stand.
It took him three tries to gain enough momentum to lift his giant body from the couch. Panting with exertion, Tiny glared angrily at Deuce. "Ain't nobody talks about Debbie, you hear me? Ain't nobody talks about The Judge and Ginny, or that summer! Those are Preacher's rules and he wouldn't be breakin' ‘em!"
"His rules, genius," Deuce said flatly. "And he's dyin', remember? So I'm guessin' he doesn't give two fucks about breakin' ‘em."
Tiny, his face a mass of angry red blotches, went still. The rage in his expression quickly shifted to shock. "Shit," he muttered, wiping his brow. "Eva's gonna know. She's gonna know we all lied to her. She's gonna know I lied to her."
Deuce felt a pang of pity for Tiny, and for all the Silver Demons that had been around long enough to have been wrapped up in Preacher's web of lies. Eva wasn't just the love of Deuce's life; she had an entire club full of old men who'd watched her grow up, who'd helped raise her. Men who'd rather shoot their own faces off than ever see her hurt.
"The Judge," Deuce pressed. "Who killed him?"
Tiny's features pinched and twisted. "You don't understand-it ain't as easy as all that. Things weren't never black and white. Preacher, he was different back then, and this was … "
Tiny threw his hands up in the air helplessly. "You don't know how bad he beat himself up for so many things. But he didn't know! He didn't know until later, until it was too fuckin' late and everybody was already long gone."
As Deuce tried to make sense of his nonsensical declaration, Tiny collapsed back onto the sofa and dropped his head into his hands. His next words were muffled and full of grief.
"He never forgave himself."
"Who did it?" Deuce slammed his fist on the arm of the sofa and Tiny's head shot up, his eyes filled with tears.
"Did the club vote?" Deuce demanded. "Did the fuckin' gavel go down? That means whatever went down was club business, and seein' as how our clubs are-"
"West."
One-Eyed Joe's boots pounded an agitated rhythm as he crossed the room. And damn, the man could still glare. Even with only one eye. In fact, it was the eye patch that made him look even more menacing-like an angry old pirate.
"Leave him be," Joe snarled. "It ain't his story to tell."
"Yeah? Whose fuckin' story is it then?" Deuce straightened to his full height and folded his arms over his chest. He matched Joe's one-eyed glare with a two-eyed scowl that usually sent his own boys running for cover. Joe, however, didn't bat an eye. He wouldn't though, not with a man like Preacher for a brother and boss.
The stare-down dragged on for several more tense seconds until Tiny let out a nervous laugh. "You two ain't gonna fight, are you? ‘Cause I don't wanna get kicked out of the hospital."