Page 101 of The Devil's Scars

Dawson entered slowly, his hands up like someone surrendering in a Western. “I came to talk. I’m alone. Nobody at the hospital but me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Anger was coming now and Wolf advanced, shifting seamlessly into predator mode. Without a word or even a glance, his brothers flanked him. “What do we have to talk about, do you figure?”

“I didn’t do it, Wolf,” Dawson said in a rush. “It wasn’t me or my crew. I swear it.”

“What didn’t you do, Kinley?” Wolf asked, the menace heavy in his tone.

“I didn’t blow up Blue Dragon, OK? I didn’t… I didn’t hurt Scars, or any of you. I didn’t, and I wouldn’t.”

“Is that right?” Wolf stopped a few feet away from him, watching him closely. “Wasn’t you, huh?”

“Lookit.” Dawson glanced behind him, saw that his ex-brothers had him surrounded, and he was in a slowly-closing circle of muscle and blame. He spoke more quickly, realizing that time was running out on him. “It makes no sense for me to do this. Right? If I did this, or any of my boys did, the blow-back would be huge. Wouldn’t it? Every single MC Prez who already disliked me or who saw me as competition, or who still hoped to work with you again someday, would be out for my fucking blood. I’d be a dead man walking, I’d have a target on my back.”

“And maybe you didn’t care,” Wolf said. “Maybe you thought you’d be able to bluff your way out of it and get away with it, act all honest and up-front… like you’re tryin’ to do right now.”

“No,” Dawson said desperately. “I’m not acting anything, Wolf. I’m not – not throwing up a smoke screen here, OK? I’m not here proclaiming my innocence to make you look elsewhere for who did this to you all. I’m here because you do need to look elsewhere, man. It wasn’t me. It just wasn’t.”

Wolf shot out his large hand now, wrapped it around Dawson’s throat. The other man gagged, tried to back up, but came up against Cowboy, Saint, and Kansas.

“Watch the door,” Wolf growled, and Rebel moved quickly, stepped outside and shut the lounge door behind him.

“Wolf…” Dawson choked out his name. “I didn’t…”

“Shut up,” Wolf hissed the words right into the other man’s reddening face. “You said your piece, now it’s my turn. Clear?”

Dawson grasped Wolf’s hand in both of his, desperate to get air, nodded.

“Now. You think for one second that I’m gonna believe a lyin’ piece of shit like you?” Wolf asked, giving Dawson a shake. “You started a whole club behind my back. You showed up at Satan’s every single goddamn day and smiled in my face and called me ‘Prez’, and the whole time, you were settin’ up your own crew. You were negotiatin’ and takin’ up my dropped contracts with Jensen’s people. You were the perfect fuckin’ snake in the grass, so I know good and well that you can lie to my face, no problem. I also know that you’re all about lookin’ out for number one, boy, and hurtin’ us like this helps you. A lot. Especially if you show up and offer help and support. Makes you look good to anyone who might get suspicious, right? Well, I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“I promise you,” Dawson said, in a strangled tone. “I didn’t do this.”

Wolf stared down at the man who he’d once loved and trusted like a brother, and felt nothing but disgust. To think that he and this man used to shoot pool and drink beer and talk about everything – women, bikes, Dawson’s kid, vacation plans, the secretest of secret club business. God, Wolf had never seen any of this coming. But he was seeing clearly now, man. Crystal clear.

“Bullshit you didn’t.” Wolf nodded at Kansas. “Find me a wheelchair and a blanket. We’re takin’ out the trash in a few minutes. Makin’ it look like a sleeping patient…but he won’t be sleepin’.”

“No,” Dawson gasped as he understood that he was going to die right there in that room, in a circle of men who he’d once have died for, who’d have died for him in return. “Wolf… no. I didn’t –”

“You did!” Wolf thundered. “If not you, then fuckin’ who?”

“Gil Purdie.”

Wolf’s head snapped to the lounge door. Sam was standing there, Rebel behind him.

“Sorry, Prez,” Rebel said apologetically. “But he says that he knows who did this. Says it’s not Dawson.”

“Gil who?” Wolf spat out, not loosening his grip on Dawson one iota, not at all interested that Sam was seeing him strangle a man where he stood. Some things were worth jail time. “I don’t know a Gil.”

“Gil Purdie is Keira’s Dad,” Sam said. “He’s been on the run ever since he killed Zoe’s sister Hailey… but he’s here now. He did this, Wolf. He did this to get Keira back.”

“How do you know?” Wolf snarled.

“Because a woman down in the E.R. just told me all about it.” Sam approached slowly, like he would a wild animal. “Gil has been holding her for weeks, using her for information about Zoe and Keira, about Blue Dragon, and about all of you. He –he hurt her, Wolf. He tortured and mutilated her to get what he wanted to know. I guess he was done with her and decided that today was the day to make his move, because he beat her up this morning and dumped her up in the mountains. Left for to starve out there. But she managed to crawl to an empty weekend cottage and break in. She called the cops for help, and they brought her here. I just finished talking to her, and she’s hysterical, saying that Gil was going to hurt Zoe, you, Scars, anyone that he had to to get his daughter back.”

“The fuck you say,” Wolf rasped. “For real?”

“Yes. She didn’t know about the actual plan, about the bomb, but she knew that he was watching all of you, and he was ready to kill. Maximum damage, Wolf… payback for Zoe taking his daughter from him, and you for helping Zoe get back here, and Scars for being with Zoe as a Dad for Keira, and the parlor for helping her earn a living… he was out to wreck Zoe’s whole life, at any cost. And if Zoe died, then Scars would have to live with the fact that he hadn’t protected her – you all would.”

“This woman, who is she?” Wolf demanded. “Who exactly was Gil usin’ for all this info?”

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