“Okay. Good family?”
“I’m not sure. They’re connected. She has two brothers, both members of The Savage Conquerors.”
Branson whistled, his eyes growing large before he looked away. Something there in his eyes that Mark couldn’t place.
The Savage Conquerors were a name that you couldn’t miss. Not if you had spent any time in prison like they had. They had several charters, and were well known for being a one percent club.
Not that he had any place judging.
“Shit,” Branson muttered under his breath, his hand going to his neck and rubbing. “That’s not good.”
“From what Dominic was able to find, her older brother is the president. Took over just a couple years ago.” He was still reeling that something like that hadn’t come up in his previous search. He was going to have to think on that.
“I don’t know much about them, never had too much trouble with them in the slammer. But I know a few of their chapters are known to be brutal.”
That was what he was worried about.
“At least with the cartel I knew somewhat what I’m getting into,” he muttered, and that look crossed Branson’s face again.
“What? You have trouble or something?” he asked, sitting up straighter.
He and Branson weren’t that close anymore, not like they used to be, but they had a bond that had been forged by their experience through hell.
Nothing broke that.
Branson looked down and rubbed at his neck.
“About a year ago a friend here in town ran in to some trouble with the cartel.”
Mark turned, and Branson gave him a look.
Fuck.
“Everything go okay?” he asked even though from Branson’s look, he knew that it hadn’t.
“Yeah, it all turned out fine. Charlotte and her son came out just fine, but it was a little rocky for a bit. It’s like you said with them, we know where we stand. The Savage Conquerors,” Branson paused and shook his head, “they worry me.”
“I don’t plan on having any contact with them, but Winter might be another story.”
“You think she will want to go see her family?” Branson asked, and he hesitated for a moment, before shrugging.
“Family is always a fickle thing,” Branson muttered, and they both turned to look out over the trees. “When I got out of the slammer, I didn’t think things could go much farther south. Then I came home to a mess.”
“I’m sorry man.”
“Wasn’t your fault.”
“Yah, but I could have come up here and helped you. Done something.”
“You got out and did what you had to do Mark. You had a path, and Sergio and all that,” Branson said quietly, and Mark grit his teeth. “Besides, I knew you were there for me if I needed it, but by the time I figured out shit it was too late. Now I’m still trying to fix it all. Trying to do right by a family that is long gone.”
“Your brother?” Mark asked softly. He knew it was a sore subject for Branson.
“Yeah.”
He couldn’t imagine being in his shoes.
“You still fighting the courts for custody?”
