Page 75 of Shadow

“My current name is John Smith. Well, that’s the name the U.S. Marshall Service issued me. I’ve had many names since I was seven years old. I’m not sure if I even remember my birth name. Anyway, what you saw the other day, Whisper, was me meeting my new handlers. Yeah, I knew you were there. Spending my life in hiding, I’ve gotten really good about knowing when I was being followed. None of you were supposed to find out. If my new handlers learn you know the truth, then they will make me and my sister leave.”

“Why are you in hiding, Monk?” Kansas asked, leaning forward in his chair as Monk sat in front of him. The rest of us leaning against the wall in the wet room, listening attentively.

Had to admit I was curious myself.

“I was seven years old when dad came home and told Mom to pack a bag. That he was taking us on vacation. I remember being excited because I’d been begging dad for weeks to visit Disneyland. Anyway, we left that night. The car ride was long. Days even. By the time we reached our destination, I remembered being upset because where Dad took us wasn’t where I wanted to be. When he told us that the small house in the middle of nowhere was going to be our new home, I threw a fit. I was so angry. That night, I snuck into my parents’ room and took my dad’s phone. I called my best friend back in California and begged him to get his dad to come get me. What I didn’t know at the time was that my best friend’s dad was the reason my dad made us leave in the dead of night.” Monk said, turning to look directly at me.

I didn’t like the way he was staring at me.

A tingle of trepidation trickled down my spine.

“Go ahead, Shadow,” he growled, then challenged, “Ask the question. Ask me who my best friend was?”

Standing up straight, I sighed. “Okay, Monk. Who was your best friend?”

“My best friend’s name was Max. Maxwell Doherty.”

“Bullshit,” I scoffed, shaking my head.

He was fucking lying. He had to be because if he was telling the truth, then that meant his father was a Golden Skull.

A brother.

A member of the old guard.

It was impossible because they were all dead.

“My dad was a member of your fucked up club. His club name was Bones.”

“The fuck you say!” I roared. “Bones died years ago.”

“That’s true. Dad did die years ago, just not how you all think. The night dad took us away, I later learned he handed over club files to the FBI. Specifically, to an agent, desperate to make a name for himself. Does the name of Darrin Reynolds ring a bell?”

“Son of a bitch,” I cursed loudly, turning and punching the wall. Hanging my head, I whispered, “Darrin Reynolds was a nasty piece of trash. After Reaper took over the club, we partnered up with Reynoldsbelieving we were helping him to catch human traffickers. We didn’t know until much later that the fucker was working side by side with William Doherty and the Society. That motherfucker was a sadistic piece of shit.”

“Back then, William Doherty ran the club.” Monk continued. “William ran the Golden Skulls with an iron fist. That motherfucker hated anyone who challenged him. It was his way or the highway, which generally meant a bullet to the head. Anyway, Dad had enough when he walked into the clubhouse one day and saw William raping Mom. Dad lost it. Damn near killed the vile fucker. Mom was never the same after that. She killed herself after my sister Abigail was born.”

“Who is her father?” I asked.

“She’s Dad’s. Mom had a paternity test done.”

“Thank God,” I muttered.

“Anyway, back then the bureau was investigating the Golden Skulls, for all kinds of dirty shit. From gun running to flesh trade but they couldn’t get a man inside. William trusted no one. Not even his own brothers. So, the bureau reached out to my dad. They promised him a new life away from the club. He took the offer when he learned my mom was pregnant again. The night before we left California, dad grabbed what files he could from the clubhouse and turned them over to Reynolds.”

“Then you called Reaper,” I asked, and Monk nodded.

“Yeah. I was just a kid. Pissed because I would never see my friends again. Mom and I were coming home from the grocery store when we saw the U.S. Marshalls at the house. The next thing I knew, they put us on a plane for Maine. I fucking hated Maine. It was so fucking cold. That’s when we learned Dad was dead. William killed him. After that, the U.S. Marshall Service moved us every year. A new home. New school, new friends. It was fucking horrible. Mom never really recovered from what William did to her. She stayed alive long enough for me to turn eighteen before she killed herself. Since then, I’ve been Abby’s sole guardian. My sister is all I have left. So that’s my story. That’s what I didn’t want you to know.”

“Jesus fuck,” Kansas growled.

“Hang on a sec,” I said. “William is dead. So are James and Reaper. Hell, the entire old guard is dead. Why are you and your sister still in the witness protection program?”

“Because of Keys,” Monk whispered. “I was giving them intel on him.”

“Why?” Pence asked.

“Because Keys is the son of Big Jim.”

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