Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“And if I don’t?”
“Then Stanley will have us throw you behind a cage too.” Her eyes softened as a woman who knew the depths of the man in front of her. “Don’t give him that win, Gabriel.”
Her words slammed into me harder than any fist. Stanley. That son of a bitch. This was a setup, even she knew it. I yanked my phone out and sent the text for them to regroup at the clubhouse, I’d be there soon. While I didn’t like cops in general, Waverly was a good woman, and someone I could trust. Well, as much as I trusted anyone who wasn’t in the Saint’s Outlaws.
“GJ,” I called, ignoring her continued yapping, locking eyes with my son. “What do you want me to do?”
He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “Dad, they’re saying murder. Pop’s murder. I didn’t do it. You know I didn’t.”
The words stabbed me. I knew better. There was no way GJ did that shit. Pop Squally was family before I even had the Saints. He had been around since before GJ was born. My son didn’t know a life without Pop in it. Hell, I could barely remember life before the Corps and before Pop myself.
“Gabriel.” Waverly’s voice cut soft this time. “You can’t help him here. Call a lawyer. I’ll keep him separate as much as I can, keep him safe ’til morning. My shift ends at seven hundred but I’ll shoot a text to get someone to call out so I can hold over. But you gotta get out of here now.”
My chest heaved. Rage, grief, helplessness—all boiling into one roar that ripped out of me, aimed at the sky. “FUCK!”
GJ flinched in the back seat.
I stepped into Waverly’s space, close enough to feel her breath. “Take care of him,” I said, voice low, deadly. I pulled her close, not in a lover’s embrace, but in one of respect and appreciation. Leaning in, I whispered, “I owe you.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead holding her close for a second too long wondering if I could manage to walk away from my son.
She shoved me back. “Don’t owe me shit. Just don’t fuck this up worse.” Her eyes locked to mine. “Gabriel, you know it and I know it. You gotta go.”
She wasn’t wrong, but it killed me inside. “I’m trusting you, Waverly. Please don’t let me down.”
She gave me a nod, and I had to learn to lean on her like I had never leaned on anyone. My son was my life outside of the club.
The text came half an hour later, just like she promised.
GJ booked. Murder first degree. Breaking and entering. Evidence: fingerprints all over the scene. DNA back already—his, and Pop’s. It’s buttoned up, DA moving forward.
Too clean. Too fast. I didn’t type those words and neither did she.
Scare tactic. Frame job. Didn’t matter what they said—I knew my son. He was twenty-one. He was hotheaded, yeah, but he worshiped Pop. Pop was a second father. He wouldn’t, no he couldn’t kill him.
This wasn’t about GJ. This was about us. About the Saint’s Outlaws motorcycle club. About Stanley finally finding his knife to stick in our ribs because he wanted to feel like he had some power.
A single call later, my world shattered all over again. Our lawyer, Tarte, laid it out like a bullet to the skull. “They’ve got him cold. Enough for life if you don’t prove otherwise.”
Life.
My son. My blood.
No.
I’d fucked up a lot in my life, but GJ was the one thing I did right. The one good thing I gave this world.
Now they wanted to bury him.
No.
I wasn’t gonna let that happen.
Whoever killed Pop. Whoever framed my boy. Whoever lined Stanley’s pockets and pulled Walsh’s strings, whoever had a hand in any of this was about to find out.
They would pay.
For every day GJ sat locked in a cage, someone would bleed.
And when the smoke cleared, the whole fucking town would remember what happens when you come for the Saint’s Outlaws.
Chapter 3
Gonzo
Church.
The call to meet was made. It was time to share the news.
Twenty-four hours had passed, rumors were running wild. Should I have called this sooner?
Possibly. Probably.
But I had to get my head on straight first.
Half the club was gone on the trip to Bella Vista, the other half hungover, yesterday wasn’t the time. I needed to sort through the details I could get from our attorney because no moves would be made without all the facts. While everyone deserved to know, I had to also make sure GJ was secured and safe before taking on the club and what came next.
Somberly, I dropped my firearm in the deposit box before stepping up to the table.
I walked the space unable to put myself in the seat. I knew the role and the expectation that I had to step up in his absence. But moving forward without Pop Squally didn’t feel right. Every patched brother began to file in behind me as I prepare my mind for the next steps. Once the door closed, I took a deep breath.