Page 21 of Brick's Redemption

He held out his hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Chapter 7 Brick

Iheard Dagger and Ginny’s conversation. Every word she said about second chances, being in love, and supporting who you’re with, including her declaration that she chose me, knowing who I am and what life I lead in the club.

Fuck, she was so goddamn perfect.

I held her hand as I led her from the house, going out the back and walking down the stairs toward the gazebo. It was time to come clean and tell her the truth, including the last day I saw Hesh alive and informing her that Doug Porter, aka Butcher, was out on parole.

I should have said all this shit sooner, but Judge thought the less Ginny knew, the safer she’d be. The problem was he got it wrong. Just like Ciara, Ginnny’s mom, and her Uncle Trig. They all protected her and kept the shit Hesh did for the club a secret. What good did that do now with his enemies trying to hunt her down?

“You sure we’re okay out here?” Ginny asked as I climbed up the steps, brought her inside, and gently pushed her onto one of the cushioned benches.

“You want to know about Hesh, right?”

Her chin lifted. “Yes.”

“Everything, even the dark shit?” I clarified. Once we opened Pandora’s Box, there was no closing it.

“I do. I can handle it, Brick.”

Yeah, I knew she could. Ginny was tough like her dad. She had his spirit, his tenaciousness, and his ability to cut through the bullshit. She saw the best in people but didn’t let them dick her around. Hesh would give anyone the shirt off his back, but fuck with his family or club, and there was no place you could go to outrun his wrath.

That was why Thorn, Judge’s father, had made him his cleaner. Hesh could handle the gore, blood, and death, and he could keep it compartmentalized in his head. He flipped that switch when it was needed, doing his part for the club. And when he was with his family, you’d never know what a ruthless son of a bitch he could become.

Was that his true self? Hell no. Hesh was one of the best men I knew and ever met. He was real, honest, and loved with all his heart. He worshiped Ciara and adored his daughter. His club came a close second. Judge never had a problem with that, and neither did his father when he was president.

“Hesh was the club’s cleaner,” I confessed, unsure if she understood what that entailed.

“Cleaner?” She frowned. “I suppose it’s not the type of cleaning I’m thinking.”

“Oh, I bet he used bleach on occasion,” I mused, shaking my head. “His job could get messy.”

“Messy,” she repeated. Her head tilted to the side. “Oh, shit.” She folded her hands on her lap and clenched her fingers together. “He tortured people?”

Well, we’d all done that at one point or another. The Crimson Skulls forced that outcome when they dragged us into a war. “Not quite.”

“I’m confused. Did he hurt bad people?”

“He did,” I confirmed. “The men who went after the club and our families. The Crimson Skulls.”

“Who else?”

She was right to ask because any threat to the club was taken seriously. If that threat was dangerous? We did what we had to do to ensure our members and their families were safe.

“Drug dealers. A fucker who liked to touch little kids. The list isn’t long.” Maybe I shouldn’t have divulged that last part.

“So, you’re telling me that my dad fucked up a few bad people and rival club members?”

“Well, he took part andcleanedthe messes.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

“Okay.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, her teeth sinking into the puffed flesh. “He hurt Crimson Skulls,” she realized. “He helped get rid of men who tried to harm us.”

“He did.”

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