It felt like we’d been waiting forever for this. I guess in a way we had been, caught in limbo, unable to move forward until we could lay our dead to rest. After Blade, King, and Inigo came back to deal with the fallout, it was decided we’d need to bring the police in to stop James—who was still on the run—fromcoming forward and claiming he was the victim and framing the MC.
The club had already taken away his anonymity. He’d gotten away with a fuck-load of shit because of his reputation. His name alone garnered nothing but respect. Now the truth had come out—Dr. James Brown was the most hated doctor to grace people’s lips since Harold Shipman.
And all it took was pulling one thread for everything to unravel. Well, almost everything. We still had no idea who our Lil really is, or where she might be. We can only hope she’s alive and safe.
I could picture her in some dingy motel room when the news broke about Lilian Taylor’s body being found, along with the complaints she’d filed with the police for domestic battery and sexual assault, all within the first six months of her marriage. Along with that, Byte and G pulled out the cases that had been squashed by hospital administrations from across the world—over two hundred and fifty of them now—citing complaints ranging from bullying to sexual assault and medical malpractice. There was also the issue that at least half of those women who had come forward to report him were now missing and unaccounted for.
The media had worked itself into a frenzy. With my name thrown in the mix after everything I’d already endured, the nation was out for his blood. It would only be a matter of time before someone found him or he made his next move. This time, we’d be ready. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. But the truth is, none of us has ever dealt with someone like James, and we’d already lost Capone because we underestimated him once. I couldn’t shake the fear that the worst was yet to come.
And now, as we say our final goodbye, I squeeze Ambros’s hand, hoping we’ll make it, hoping we’re strong enough to weather yet another storm brewing on the horizon.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
I turn away from the pastor. My eyes fall on Lucy, her bold red dress a splash of color within the crowd of leather, her eyes hidden behind large dark glasses, but I remember what they looked like when I delivered the news.
I push the door open, feeling Ambros at my back as I scan the room, finding Lucy as she steps out from behind the counter. When she spots me, she smiles.
“Hey Citi, take a seat anywhere, I’ll be right with you.”
“Actually, Lucy, do you have a minute?”
She tilts her head, and I don’t know if it’s the tone of my voice or the expression on my face that tips her off, but she hurries over to me and ushers me to one of the empty booths.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Star okay?”
I can’t help but feel like this woman would have been perfect for Capone, and it flays me open. Life is so fucking unfair sometimes.
Ambros stays back, giving us some space, as I reach forward and snag one of her hands. “No, Lucy. Star’s fine. It’s Capone.”
She frowns, confused. “We have a date for tonight.” Her shoulders slump. “He’s changed his mind, hasn’t he?”
“No. If he could go, he would. I swear it. He really, really liked you, Lucy. I’ve never seen a grown man so giddy over a woman before.”
“Really?” she whispers, before her eyes spot the tear trailing down my cheek. “Citi?”
“Capone was shot saving my daughter.”
She jolts as if she were the one shot. “No. We have a date. He wouldn’t tell me where we were going. It’s a surprise…I.” Her face crumples at my expression. “He won’t be taking me on a date, will he?”
I shake my head, swallowing down a sob.
“He’s…gone?”
I nod. “I’m so sorry.”
She stares at the table as if she’s having trouble processing. She lifts her head, her face pale, her eyes haunted. “I have to get back to work. Thank you for letting me know.”
She slips her hand from mine and slides out of the booth. I hurry to follow, not having any idea what to say, but her next words stop me.
“I bought a pretty dress. A red one. He said red was his favorite color. I wanted to wear it for him. Can’t wear red to a funeral, though,” she ends on a whisper.
“Says who? Wear it. Capone would love it.”
Her eyes slip closed before a tear runs down her cheek. And then she’s gone, hurrying to the restrooms, leaving Ambros to hold me together once more as he guides me outside.
“Time to go, angel.”
I jolt at Ambros’s voice, breaking through my thoughts, and realize everyone’s leaving. I nod robotically as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me to his bike.
