“Yeah,” I say. “Your own. Not me. Not a Dead Dog.”
“Women aren’t patched members,” Tonsils points out. “There was no reason . . .”
“You’re wrong!” I jump up. “Two things happened you know nothing about. The first one I can prove. I need my cell phone.”
Tonsils gestures at one of the brothers on the far side of the table. He immediately leaves the room.
“And the second issue?” Blue presses.
“You’ll have to take my word on.”
“Tell us,” Tonsils says.
“Do you remember a girl named Allison Giles? She lived on First Street with her alcoholic mother.”
“Yeah,” Tonsils says. “A mousy thing.”
“Shy,” I correct him, still protective of my former best friend. “Bear called me one night and told me he’d kidnapped Allison after school. I begged him to let her go, to send her home. He told me there was no reason to, that he’d left her at the park. It was two o’clock in the morning when I slipped out of here, hoping to find Allison.”
“Did you?” Blue asks.
“Yeah, I found her.” Hot tears make it hard to see clearly, but I swipe them away. “I found her in a ditch without any pants on, bleeding profusely from her rectum.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tonsils says.
“I got her home and cleaned her up as best I could. I stayed the rest of the night with her. She was in bad shape. The next day an ambulance took her away. I never saw her again. Never heard from her again. And her mother died a year later. I questioned Bear. He said five of the Dead Dogs raped her repeatedly, and if I didn’t come home, they’d do the same to Belle.”
“My wife?” Tonsils shoots up from his chair.
“Yes.” It pains me to share these details after all this time, but they need to understand my reasoning from back then. I never meant to hurt anyone, only to protect the only real family I’d ever had.
There’s a long pause in the conversation then. I know my words have hit them hard. Allison’s story is enough to silence most men. The door opens and we all turn. I spot my cell phone in Charlie’s hand. That thing is more than just a means of communication to me, it’s a lifeline. I hold my hand out but Tonsils takes it from Charlie first.
“No games, Angel.”
“No games,” I repeat.
I quickly scroll through my files. “Eagle always blamed my mother for what happened to me. But he’s wrong. After my father was murdered, Reggie and Bear lost it. Started hanging out with the wrong people, drug dealers and gang members. That’s how they met the Dead Dogs. Reggie became a hangaround, invited by some asshole twice his age. My mother tried to put an end to it. He was only fifteen.”
“Hobbit,” Blue and Tonsils say at the same time.
“My mother didn’t know anything about MCs. As soon as Reggie’s grades started to slip and he refused to keep curfew, Mom drove down to the Dead Dog compound and marched right in like she owned the place. It didn’t go well. She threatened to call the police.”
I show them a series of photos featuring Reggie shooting my mother up with meth and heroin. “Proof for the Dead Dogs. Instead of having her killed, the president thought it would be profitable to make her a long-term customer. Reggie used to slip powder in her coffee and water. She got addicted pretty quick. Soon the powder form wasn’t enough, she needed a more potent delivery. Reggie would get her drunk and then shoot her up. That’s how he earned his patch so quickly. The youngest member in the history of their club.”
My phone is passed around. The evidence is damning.
“I-I couldn’t take it anymore. The fear and pain overwhelmed me. I thought if I left my mom and Eagle would be safe. I staged my own death and relocated under a new name—Serafina Scala.”
“Who helped you, Angel?” Tonsils asks.
“I can’t betray that trust.”
“Even if it could save your ass?” Blue says.
“Not even if it could save my ass.”
“Wait outside, Angel.” Tonsils waves me off.
I make eye contact with every brother, hoping they’ll understand why I left Holly Beach. Eagle represented everything good in my life. I would have gladly gone to the grave to save him. Still would. I turn around and walk slowly to the door.
“No matter what you think of me,” I say as I touch the doorknob, “I always considered the Iron Norsemen my real family.”
I walk out.
