Page 27 of The Sins Of The Biker

Shaking my head, I reply, “No, it wasn’t a vendetta against the club… this was personal. If it were, they would have tried to kill us here, but they didn’t. They waited till we were alone and didn’t have the weight of the club behind us. Nah,” I repeat. “This was as personal as it gets.”

“But who would want to kill your old man and you?” Snake asks.

Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know… could be anyone. We have a lot of enemies out there.”

“Could it have been the guys you did the exchange with?” Snake asks. “It’s kinda weird they attacked us right after we made the deal.”

I take a minute to think. Could it be? But why? What would they gain from our death? Yeah, they’d get the guns back and could sell them again, but it doesn’t make sense.

“Stanford, check if the motel we stayed at had any surveillance cameras that were not damaged after the shooting. We need a license plate number or a face or any-damn-thing.”

Stanford’s got the brains. He’s a total wizard with computers. We call him Stanford because he went to Stanford University, so he knows his shit. But he quit early to join the club. His brother, Wreck, is older and also a member and knows his way around a motor. He’s the best mechanic in Houston.

We appointed Wreck as our treasurer because of his expertise in numbers. He ran his own business and is now running our shop and balancing the books. Due to his incredible reputation, his customers followed him to our shop when he closed his business, which keeps the money coming in.

“Sure thing, Prez,” Stanford replies.

“Appreciate all the help you gave me after my dad died. I know he was my old man, but he was your old man too. He treated you all like family. I want you to know I will do my best to carry on his legacy and make this club everything he wanted. Therefore, we have to find out who took him away from us. Stanford, see what you can come up with, and then we’ll call church again.”

“Let’s go celebrate and drink to Jim. We will never forget him. He was a hell of a prez. It’s time we celebrate our new prez too. What do you say?” Wave asks, and all the boys cheer.

“I’ve organized a barbecue tonight, and women… lots of women, will be there.” He grins. Dad would have wanted us to celebrate his life and wouldn’t accept anything less.

Cheers erupt around the room again, and instantly, my mind goes back to Serena and her look of sadness when I told her I needed time. Fuck, I love her, and already miss her. But now I can focus on the club and revenge. I will return for her when I’m ready to be everything she deserves.

***

A few days pass when Stanford finally comes back to me with some information on the men who shot at us at the motel.

Stanford had come to me earlier this morning, saying he had some intel about what happened that night. I told him to tell us all together, so I called church.

This time when I take my seat, I sit at the head of the table. I still can’t believe they voted me in as president, but it’s what the boys want, so they must trust me.

Placing the gavel down, I look at Wave, then my other brothers.

“Stanford has some intel on the shooting at the motel. Stanford, want to tell everyone here what you’ve found?”

“Sure, Prez,” Stanford states with his laptop is open in front of him. “On the night they killed Prez, there was gunfire from a black van outside the motel. The surveillance cameras kept working, even though bullets were fired around them. I talked to the admin girl at the motel, and she told me the police had already taken the tape. Fortunately, we have ties with the police, so Jack from the New York Bureau was kind enough to email me the footage.” He grins. “Care to take a guess what it uncovered?”

“What?” I ask, curious to know the answer.

“We got a plate. There were three of the fuckers. They stepped out of the van and shot head-on.”

“Give me the laptop,” I demand.

Stanford gets up from his seat and walks around the table to me. “Here you go, Prez. I’ll play it for you.” The video starts, and the van races around the corner to our van and stops in front of our motel room.

Three figures exit, and I pause it to zoom in. Even though they don’t have masks on, I don’t recognize any of them, so I press play again.

The shooting happens, and the spray of bullets is unbelievable. When they’re done, they jump back into the van and speed off. However, Stanford hits pause as they take off, and the plate comes into view. It’s a New York license plate.

Facing Stanford, I ask. “Did you run them?”

He smirks. “Yeah, Prez, and I got a name for you.”

“Good man.”

Stanford presses something on the laptop, and immediately, headshots come up.

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