“I spoke with the hospital staff, they can work something out on the price,” he said. “In the meantime, though, let’s get everyone here. I want everyone accounted for and don’t need to find out someone went sneaking over to the Saints to update them. Patriot, until Axle gets out of the bed, you’re the temporary VP. Got it?”
“Got it,” Patriot said, whirling around and spreading the news to everyone.
He handled that with such aplomb. No cockiness, no showmanship, no machoism. Just strict, pure action.
“Here, come with me,” Lane said as he placed a hand on my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
I turned and quickly caught up with him. I started to ask him what had happened, but he shushed me and just said, “not here.” I followed him around two corners before he opened a doorway to me, letting me in.
I entered into a chapel with no more than three rows of pews. There was a nice stained-glass decoration at the other end of the room, but it was completely empty otherwise. No other patients or family members were praying.
“Seems appropriate, doesn’t it,” Lane said dryly. “Pray to the real saints to handle the fallen ones.”
“What’s going on, Lane?” I said. “I thought you’d gotten shot!”
Lane bit his lip, sat in a pew, patted for me to sit next to him, and then put his arm around me. I fell into his arm, surprised at how natural and easy it felt. For someone whom I’d only spent one evening with—the previous one at that—it felt surprisingly normal to be in his comfort.
“Someone in the club is a rat,” he said very softly, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him fully the first time. “Someone sold us out that we were planning something, and the Saints attacked us. We’re lucky to still be here.”
“Shit, Lane,” I said, turning my body in full and wrapping my arms around him.
But he shifted away.
“Lane?” I asked.
“Angela, I’m not saying no to you, but you need to understand the truth,” he said. “And I trust you understand what I’m telling you is about the truth as someone who likes you, not as someone who might be on the other side of the courtroom someday.”
I nodded and folded my hands in my lap.
“I know you have a job to do, and I have mine. I have no doubt you’re going to have to take care of a lot of things. You and Beth are going to have to interview people here, press charges on the Saints, do whatever you need to do. But that’s not going to work, and you know it.”
I know it better than you might ever suspect, Lane. I spent an entire morning talking about it with Beth.
“My job is going to put me in a lot of violent, dangerous spots that, frankly, I’ve tried to avoid for some time. I’ve been a coward in the past. Really, before the last few days, the only time I had ever fired a gun at someone was when I thought Shannon was in danger. But you need to be aware that the things I’m about to do? It’s taking justice into my own hands. I’m going to be a vigilante. Because while the justice system is great for keeping society in check, it’s not great for keeping the worst kind of humanity in check. And that’s my job.”
Nothing he said had scared me off yet. I understood that the best thing I could do right now was to understand the spirit of the law, not the letter. The spirit told me the Saints had to face retribution for their crimes. The letter said I had to find a specific bylaw I could charge them under, get an arrest warrant issued, and do so many other things that would take at least a few days to make happen.
As much as I believed in the power of the law and the power of rules, my time with Lane had shown me that it wasn’t going to be fair to abide by such things all the time.I think even Shannon would have said to loosen up. In fact, I know she would.
“Can you tell me what you’re going to do, Lane?” I said.
“Club business,” he said.
“Lane,” I said. “Please. I want to see what I can do to help.”
“You can’t,” he said.
“You don’t know that,” I said, but I knew he was closer to being right than not.
He let out a prolonged sigh. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but in my head, fantasies of backing up the Black Reapers with cops or other law enforcement agencies filled my head. They were fantasies for a reason, and maybe the real reason I wanted to know was just that I liked Lane and wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing anything stupid.
“I’m going to take the only people I trust to deal out justice,” he said.
“Who?”
“Patriot,” he said before a long pause. “And Father Marcellus. Although truth be told, I’m not even sure I trust the chaplain, but I don’t have much choice with Axle and Butch out. Only other option is Red Raven, but he’s too old for this kind of run.”
You don’t trust the chaplain? What kind of a chaplain is he?
