Page 103 of Where We Ended

PRESENT

Giles once used club funds from a raid to rent a cabin for a random weekend away, where he invited a shit ton of members and threw a massive party. The cops were called, and Giles ended up getting arrested. One of the fundamental rules about being in a motorcycle club, especially a one-percent club, is there’s absolutely no drawing needless attention from the police while wearing the colors of the club. Especially those outside the territory your club is in. It would be different if everyone was together on a raid or a club-sanctioned event that broke a few laws, but individually, it was practically forbidden.

Giles would have gotten his ass chewed by Simon, possibly even demoted, or put back on prospect duties until he could redeem himself. Giles was too nervous to call Killian, knowing he would have been forced to include Simon, so he had the bright idea to text me, asking if I had the money to bail him out. I did, and when I helped him cover up the whole thing, so Simon and Killian never found out, Giles vowed to repay the favor someday.

That day was today.

No guards ever came to check on Alec while I was there talking to him. When I went snooping for the key to his handcuffs, they happened to leave the key on the table along the opposite end of the room. I uncuffed him and then for the sake of speed, and lack of options, had him ride bitch as I rode my Yamaha to Richland.

First, I grabbed my jacket, boots and riding leathers out from one of the smaller lockers in the garage I’d been using as of late, then dressed in a bathroom.

Getting past the detail Silas left for me was the most difficult part of our escape, but I knew nearly every entry point, and weak point in the fence line, from years of sneaking out to leave Silas notes. I found a place to walk the bike, sneak through the fence, and cut away from the men Silas put on my trail.

Once we arrived at the location Giles provided, it was dark, the night crisp and clear. We were walking with the moon blotted out by tall trees, which cast a shadow over the dirt path in front of us.

“You know this Giles guy well?” Alec asked, stepping closer to me, nearly in front of me.

I nodded. “I do. He’s trustworthy.”

Our steps were quiet as we neared what looked like an old shed. It was roughly the size of a garden shed with dilapidated panels and a thatched roof. Giles appeared instantly from inside.

Pointing a finger behind him, he let out a sigh. “You have an hour, that’s all I can give you. We have a story prepped and enough drugs to pump him with to make it stick, so do whatever you need to do to get your info.”

Alec gave me one last glance and then pushed past us and entered the shack.

I hung back, not wanting to watch the interrogation.

Giles raised his brow at me, questioningly. “No Silas?”

Gesturing with my chin, I muttered, “His brother.”

My friend’s face went slack as he looked back where Alec had disappeared.

“There’s two of them?”

“Yes, let’s hope this guy will lead us to their father.”

While we stood waiting in the dark, my mind went back to Silas and the pain he must be enduring. Crucifying a dozen people. All that rage and hurt.

If our roles were reversed, I’d feel horrible. Torn and tattered in ways that weren’t redeemable. But he had to be redeemed. He had to come out of this for the sake of our future. Pulling up my cell once more, I checked my messages and saw there was still nothing from him.

I hated how familiar of a feeling that was.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SILAS

ONE YEAR AGO

I checked the box where Natty had started dropping me notes and found that there was nothing new inside it. The familiar disappointment burned under my skin, but I shook it off. She’d only started leaving them a few months ago after she realized I followed her everywhere she went.

She’d tried to call me with a burner phone and I selfishly relished the voicemails she’d left me in Latin. The texts she’d left me were the same, but it was still dangerous. Dirk had started acting more and more deranged around the club. Doing harder drugs, being more aggressive. Which included starting more turf wars.

We’d gone toe to toe with Mayhem Riot, which made no sense at fucking all considering they were in New York, but Dirk rode up, we all went with him, and he wanted to fight.

There was a club from Chicago he was trying to start shit with called The Brass. No clue about their affiliations, but they were a big fucking club. Someone needed to stop him, but until he could be managed, I had to make sure Natty remained safe.

So I watched over her.

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