Page 64 of Ride the Wind (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation 8)

I took a step toward Ram. “I’m doing what you’re asking me to do, Ram.” I made sure to say his name and hoped Ransom was listening.

“Now get down on your knees.”

Shit was about to happen fast, and I needed to slow it down.

“Can’t we talk about this?” I asked. “I mean, you don’t have to go through with this. You can let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about your deal with Malcom. I just want to move on from that psycho.” I cleared my throat. “Besides, do you really think anyone will believe I killed myself in this garage?”

“No one is even going to care where you killed yourself. Your precious club will be beside themselves when I call the police and tell them I found you with a gun in your hand and a bullet through your head.” Ram chuckled low. “They aren’t going to question a damn thing.”

“Why didn’t you make it look like Brain killed himself?” I asked. I just needed to keep him talking. The longer he talked, the more time Ransom had to get here. I just wished he was working in Brayton today and not in Rockton.

Ram shrugged. “I was too pissed at him to think about it. I just wanted him dead before he ran to the police.”

“You don’t think they will find out you killed him?”

Ram curled his lip. “I threw the fucking gun in the Wisconsin River. Ain’t no fucking way they’ll ever be able to pin his murder on me. If anything, I did the world a favor by killing him.” He waved the gun at me. “Now, get on your knees.”

“The prints,” I called. “The ones that were planted in Kerry’s car. Why did you put Easy’s in there?”

“Because Brain is a fucking idiot. As if he wasn’t in enough shit, he thought while framing you; he would add one of your friends into the mix. He followed him until he was able to get his prints. It was like he thought Malcom was watching him even though the guy was dead.

“Did he think that was going to work? That the police were just going to find his prints, and that would be the end of it? Hell, he didn’t even put my prints in the car,” I pointed out. “Easy was the only one who looked like he was there with Kerry.”

“Brain was an idiot. His plan wasn’t going to work. That’s why I took over.”

“The bakery?” I looked up at Ram. “Were you the one to smash the windows?”

Ram sneered. “Sure fucking was. I was hoping to scare your woman and, in return, scare you from sticking your nose around. It didn’t fucking work because I got three missed calls from your old prez.”

King wasn’t going to be my old prez for long. As soon as I burned my Sons of Sin cut, I would crawl back to the Knights and ask to be a part of the club again.

I kept my arms in the air and dropped to my knees. “You really think this is going to work? You get rid of me, sure, but you still have to worry about the cops figuring out who killed Kerry.”

Ram shook his head. “Don’t fucking care. That cannot and will not come back to me. I didn’t have a damn thing to do with that chick. Brain did that, and they’ll figure out that he did. He told me he tried to make it look like one of the guys from your club did it, but I would be surprised as fuck to hear that he managed to place evidence or prints. The Brayton police are in my fucking pocket. I know all of their dirty laundry. If they try to pin Brain’s death on me, then I’m going to take all of them down with me,” he promised. Ram walked toward me and pressed the gun to my forehead. “Boom,” he whispered. “You would be dead already if you were Brain. He didn’t even see it coming. Fuckwad was asleep when he died.”

I wasn’t best friends with Brain, but he was the guy I was closest to in the Sons of Sin. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did. Sure, he had tricked me into joining the Sons of Sin and killed Kerry, but he should have spent the rest of his life in prison for that.

“Why can’t we work out a deal?” I ask. “There has to be something I have that could help you. Something you want?”

“I’ve got a shit ton of money, and I’m prez of the Sons of Sin. There isn’t much else a man could or would want.” He held his arms out wide and laughed.

This was my chance.

I landed a right hook to his knee and rolled to the side. I hid behind a stack of old tires and listened to Ram howl in pain.

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed. He fired two shots into the air and kicked a can next to his foot.

I heard his footsteps move toward the tires I was behind and rolled to the side.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Ram sang. “You can’t hide forever,” he sneered.

I knew I couldn’t keep hiding, but I could keep moving toward the door. If I could get out of here, I would have a much better chance of living.

My phone was a good twenty feet away in the opposite direction of the door.

“Just stop what you’re doing, Ram. Let me go, and I won’t tell a fucking soul what happened,” I pleaded.

“Not a fucking chance in hell. I let you go, and I will live in fear for the rest of my life. I’d rather kill you now and be able to sleep at night.”

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