Page 153 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

“I guess,” he started, “I’m biased. Scratch that: I know I am. But you all went down to New Orleans to help me get my son back, so I think you care, at least a little. I’m here to say that, in years past, I’ve hated Kenneth Teague so much that I wanted to strangle him. And, in the years since, I’ve loved him better than my own father. Because my daddy lied to me an awful lot, and Ghost lies, sometimes, yeah, to protect us, but he always tells the truth in the end. And this is his club. His family. I owe every good thing in my life to him. So he has my vote.” Mercy sat back down. “As president. And Aidan as VP, because it’s about damn time.”

Silence again. The hiss of cicadas, the groan of a gator…

But then, startlingly, Hound stood, and said, “You’re a real ambitious son of a bitch.” He heaved a minute. Then said, “But James never was, and Duane certainly never was. So. You have my vote.”

He sat back down, and the room erupted into cheers.

Aidan glanced up, wild-eyed, terrified.

Ghost gripped his shoulder. “And who votes Aidan as VP?”

Every hand went up.

~*~

It took Agent Mike Chambers another three months after the dust-up in New Orleans to die. He did it peacefully, at home.

Alex went to the funeral.

He stayed behind, after the final graveside eulogy had been spoken. Stood under the cooling sunset in a hilly, Virginia cemetery plot long after the mourners had moved on, and he’d been asked to leave. Stood five rows back, and watched the backhoe start its grisly work.

The sun was winking off the corner of a marble colosseum when he heard someone sigh behind him, letting himself be known.

His brother, Felix, said, “He was a good man.”

Alex watched the backhoe’s bucket dump the next load of red earth on the coffin, and then turned toward Mercy.

He looked good. His skin glowing, his jaw clean-shaven. Well-fed, his clothes clean. He had his long hair tied back in a braid that Alex knew Ava had plaited for him.

There was nothing to be done about the surge of affection and relief that swelled in his belly.

Mercy said, “You’re a good man, too.”

Alex blinked, throat suddenly tight. “I try to be.”

Mercy angled his body back, revealing the black Harley waiting on the cemetery drive. “You want to try somewhere else?”

Alex thought.

And thought.

And loosened his tie.

~*~

Ava had driven this road so many times.

And still, every time, her belly clenched with excitement.

There were people who would have dreaded drawing near to the Dartmoor headquarters. But for her, it was home. Was peace.

“Mama,” Cal said in the back seat. “When’s Daddy going to be home?”

“Soon,” she said, and caught Remy’s gaze in the passenger seat, his steady presence. “He’s gonna meet us here.”

Behind her, she heard the roar of bikes.

Two of them.

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