Page 94 of The Oath We Take

He’d told me it was a sign to the club. If you only work on the surface, the parts everyone can see, you’re a superficial man, one more concerned with external image. But to do the underside was to work on what was hidden. To be the best possible person you could be, with or without witness. To address the darkest parts of oneself, to mine one’s own depths for perfection, was to be the best possible version of yourself.

The underside is smooth to the touch, but then my hand brushes up against a small plastic circle. I dip my head to see what I’m touching and have to hide the gasp when I realize it’s some kind of bugging device.

A weird kind of relief floods through me first.

I’m not here because Butcher knows about Ember and me.

And then it hits me, why I got that whole reminder of what the club was built on.

The pieces fall into place so quickly, I can barely think straight.

I’m here because Butcher thinksI’ma traitor to the club.

When Ember was about twelve years old, she was sulking because Lemmy had pulled up lame. I don’t even remember the problem. Something to do with his foreleg. And she’d been complaining to my grandfather about not being able to ride.

But when everyone’s back was turned, she went into the stables where my grandfather had just tied his horse up to be de-tacked. Ember sneakily untied him, used a stool in the stable to climb onto him, then reined him around.

Aurelius was nothing like his namesake. In another life, he was a war horse, a Destrier breed now extinct. Angry. A biter. Had a disdain for being ridden.

A twelve-year-old girl in pigtails was the ultimate insult.

So, Aurelius tried to buck her off. I remember the cowboys running from all directions to try and grab the reins. Even as a kid, my only thought was for her safety. I climbed onto the paddock fence and calmly shouted at Ember to bring him close so I could jump on the saddle behind her to rein him in.

It was a move I likely couldn’t ever repeat. I took hold of the reins, then used my knees and my young but familiar bark to bring him back under control.

My grandpa told me it was the kind of courage bikers were made of.

My father told me I was a fucking idiot for risking my life for hers.

But it was Butcher who rubbed my back when I puked from the adrenaline.

My heart is racing even harder than it did back then. And I’m ashamed to admit my hands shake as I stand.

Then, I press my hands firmly onto my knees, wiping my sweating palms on the denim.

“Tell me you don’t think this is me,” I say quietly, finding my voice as I return to the bar.

“Until you can tell me something to convince me otherwise, it’s the only thing I can think,” Butcher says, but Wraith silently shakes his head enough for me to see it.

He doesn’t agree with this line of questioning, and it gives me some hope.

“I’d have to be carrying a death wish to bring a tracking device into the Iron Outlaws’ clubhouse and place it in front of my own seat at the church table. That act alone should be enough to tell you it’s not me. The fucker who did this wouldn’t have put it in front of their own seat.”

“It’s also the fact you were there first when the fire started. You weren’t supposed to be there that night. How did you know those fuckers were going to burn down the bar? Did you plan to get there fast enough so you could save her like a hero?” Butcher asks.

My jaw drops open. I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You need to watch what you’re saying, Butch. You’ve already crossed a line that’s going to be really hard to get back from. But let’s think about this logically, instead of this fucking mind game you’ve got going on. If you were going to try and get intel from that room, would you put the bug, which likely has limited range…in front of yourself?”

Butcher lights another cigarette. “There was also the way you chased after the guys in the truck. I’ve never known you to miss a shot. But you missed them when they were fifteen feet from you. Then, you chased them. Your bike should outrun that truck any day of the week, but you say you never caught them. And you say they were responsible for you coming off your bike, but you’re sitting here like you’re fine while a crash at the kind of speeds you say you were doing would have caused more damage.”

My head is spinning with the allegations that I undeniably know aren’t true. But worse, I can’t believe the two men challenging me could believe that shit.

“Fuck you, Butch.” It’s all I can think of. Not how to defend myself, because I shouldn’t have to.

“What?” Butcher says.

“You’re a fucking imbecile. Two things: One, if you were going to plant a bug with limited range in the clubhouse, you’d want to place it closest to the person who is going to say what you need to hear. In this room, it’s you, Wraith, Grudge, and me. Two, I know it’s not me. And I wouldn’t assume it’s either of you or Grudge. And three, this all means the person who planted that fucking thing is still listening. If you’re going to accuse me of something, have more fucking evidence than a device anyone could have placed. Oh, and four, why would they need a fucking bug if it was me? If, for some insane reason, I had flipped sides, I’d just walk out of here and call ‘em. Wouldn’t need a fucking bug.Thatalone tells me it’s been planted by someone who doesn’t get to be in church when the decisions are made.” I turn to Wraith. “How did you find it?”

“Everything has been going too smoothly in the Russians’ favor. We’ve all felt it. But it started after that call I had with you when you’d taken Ember to your place. Started going back over all the prospects to see if we made a mistake. But then it occurred to me that the plans we made always happened in church, where the prospects aren’t allowed. Just decided to do a search. Took it to Butcher as soon as I found it.”

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