Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Forever is not the fuckin’ plan,” I snapped. My voice echoed through the room, sharp enough to cut glass. “We get him out. Period.”
Waverly looked up, her expression grim. “They’re pushing this case fast. Too fast. Somebody’s greasing wheels.”
“The new judge pulling the strings?” Burn asked.
“Judge, DA, hell—maybe the feds are involved. Someone’s making moves and doin’ it quick.” Waverly shared. “There is some money involved. Tarte is sorting what she can find but the money trail is twisted and runs deep.”
Always follow the money. GJ had been right. I clenched my fists. “Find it. Every dollar, every transfer. I don’t give a shit if you gotta hack the IRS. Someone’s paying to keep my boy in chains, and I’m gonna know who.”
Burn gave one sharp nod. Shanks muttered something about blood and retribution.
But beneath all the rage was fear. Not for me. Not for the club.
For GJ.
Devyn Tarte showed up later, her sharp heels clicking across the hardwood like gunfire. She carried herself like a warrior dressed in a suit instead of leather, her briefcase snapping open like a weapon. “The evidence they have is flimsy, but it’s enough for this judge,” she said, laying out papers. “No murder weapon on scene. DNA on-site can be explained. Witnesses who can’t get their stories straight. But it doesn’t matter—the judge is in someone’s pocket and ready to use the weight of his robe to see this through.”
“Who’s paying the bill to this man?” I asked, expecting her to say Stanley.
She hesitated. “That’s what I can’t pin down yet. It goes deeper than the mayor. But someone with pull. This isn’t random.”
Of course it wasn’t. Nothing in this world ever was.
“You get me a name,” I told her, my voice low, dangerous. “One name. I don’t care what it costs.”
Her eyes flickered, sharp and assessing. She knew exactly what I meant.
By the time I stumbled to my former home, dawn was breaking. My ex sat at the kitchen table, her face pale from crying. A mug of coffee sat untouched in front of her.
“You saw him?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
Her hands trembled. “Is he…?”
“He’s scared,” I admitted, sinking into the chair across from her. “But he’s fightin’. For now.” I wouldn’t lie to her. I wouldn’t give her some kind of false hope. I spent twenty-two years feeding her bullshit as her husband. I wouldn’t do her dirty now when there was so much at stake. She was stronger than I ever gave her credit for. But we all had our breaking points.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “He doesn’t belong in there.”
“I know.” My voice cracked, something it rarely did. “But he’s strong. Stronger than either of us imagined.”
Her eyes met mine, full of pain and fury. “Fix this. Whatever it takes. Fix it.”
I reached across the table, gripping her hand. “I will. You have my word.”
And I meant it.
Back at the clubhouse, I gathered the brothers. I looked each man in the eye, felt the weight of their loyalty, their trust.
“This ain’t just about my son anymore,” I told them. “This is about all of us. Somebody thinks they can put one of ours in chains. Somebody thinks they can use the system. They’re wrong.”
The room erupted in agreement, fists slamming tables, voices rising.
In that moment, I knew: the storm was coming.
And I was the one who would unleash it.
Chapter 5
IvaLeigh
No, no, no, don’t die, dammit. This couldn’t be happening. My night was already bad enough.
I knew better. Why I went to the stupid frat party was beyond me. Dammit, I knew better.
It was two in the morning, I left the party angry. “Never drive under duress,” Mom always said.
Did I listen? Not tonight.
Why did I torture myself? I knew he would be there. Like a fool, I went thinking somehow, I had hope to fix this. Collin and I were over before we started because I don’t put out on the first date. I liked him more than I should. His actions when I said no should have been enough for me to never give him a second thought. A good man doesn’t get angry and try to guilt a woman into sex saying their balls hurt. Wasn’t my consent and my desire more important than his tight balls?
How could I tell him? I was a virgin. Yes, at twenty-two years old, I had yet to have sex. It wasn’t that I was a prude. It was more, I didn’t date. In high school, I was focused and determined to go to Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina.
My dad, as a judge, wanted me to go to a bigger school, like Duke University, or even consider a private college. Me, I didn’t want to be far from home. I liked the idea of college until I had my first dorm mate. She was a slob.