Chapter twenty-four:
present day
Jesse
I stared at Parker quietly, my body almost collapsing under me.
“What did you just say to me?” I hissed out through gritted teeth, my body burning with anger.
“That’s pretty much what your dad said to Butch when he found out. Told him he was going to kill him. That he refused to live with the shame of it.” Parker shook his head. “Clyde Hardy might be the feared and revered president of the Devil’s Highwaymen MC, but he’s a fucking homophobe who turned on his own son, and it looks like you’re just as bad as he is.”
I staggered back to my bed and sat down, because my legs couldn’t take my weight any longer. If I’d had a gun, I’d have put it to my head right then. I might as well just die if I was anything like my father. And the fact that Butch had kept that from me proved that I must have been—or that he at least thought I was. Everything was fucked.
“I loved my brother, and I ain’t nothin’ like Hardy,” I said, talking to no one in particular. And I meant every word of it. I didn’t care if Butch was gay or not; shit like that didn’t bother me—shouldn’t bother anyone else, either—but Butch obviously thought I would reject him just like Hardy had. The thought was almost too much to bear.
“He loved you too,” Parker said.
“Parker? Where are you?” the fat fucking guard from before called, and Parker took a step away.
“I need to go.”
“So go,” I replied. “This has nothing to do with you anymore. This is club business now.”
“I have more to tell you,” he replied. “Besides, I told you I promised him I’d always have his back.”
I laughed, the noise having more to do with hate than happiness. “He’s fucking dead, and I’m a grown-ass man—I can take care of myself, now get the fuck out of here, Parker.”
“I promised him!” Parker hissed impatiently, his voice tight with emotion. “I can’t let him down, not again.”
“I don’t need help from some dirty cop. Now get out of here.” I lay back on my bed, everything swirling around in my head.
“I’m not dirty! I’m probably the only clean cop in this place!” he snapped. “Just don’t mention to anyone that we talked, okay? Butch said you would always have his back, and that if you knew I was important to him you’d have mine too.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. Instead I was thinking about Butch keeping that secret from me for so long and why he felt that he had too. Was I more like Hardy than I realized? My thoughts switched to wondering about who Butch had called—which of my brothers knew about Butch, and did they help toward his death.
I dragged a hand down my face, a million questions swimming through my mind. When I looked over, Parker had gone.
The whole thing was a mess. I had more questions than answers, and no one to talk to about it. But the one good thing about being arrested was uninterrupted free time. I had all night to think about everything I’d just been told, and to think of a solution.
I stared up at the ceiling, glad for the dark around me. My knuckles still hurt from earlier, but it was nothing compared to my heart right then. One thing was for certain, though: I was going to sort out this mess and fix this shit. No way was I being sent down for beating up some little pussy and letting my brother’s killer get off. No fucking way.
No, the club would get me out of there and then I was going to find out what really happened to Butch, who those fucking Razorbacks were, and then I was going to make everyone involved pay for his death in blood.
*
3 months ago
I walked back inside the clubhouse, a smile on my face. The party was getting a little too wild and I needed Laney out of there. She knew what went down, but she didn’t need to see it. Rider and Axle looked like they were rounding up their women and sending them packing too, but I couldn’t see Silvie so I made a guess that she’d already left for the night. Either that or she was in Hardy’s office on her hands and knees before she went.
I liked Silvie; she was a good woman. If things had been different, she would have made a great mom and a great old lady. As it turned out, it was obvious by then that Hardy didn’t intend on making her his property. Real shame, too, ’cause it was clear that she fucking loved him, hard. Despite all the bullshit he threw at her, she was strong and took it all—probably believing that deep down inside of him, there was still a good man somewhere. Butch and I both knew differently.
Laney came out of the bathroom, half stumbling in tiny heels that she’d decided to wear. Woman always wore those little black ankle boots, laces always undone like she was ready to kick ’em off and sprint away at a moment’s notice. But that night she’d gone out with her girls and they’d made her up like she was their pet project. Turned up looking beautiful, dressed in a tight little black dress and heels, her hair all piled up on top of her head, and her lips painted a vibrant red. Couldn’t deny that she looked fucking stunning, of course, she never looked more beautiful than when she’d just woken up—her face clear of all that crap, her hair loose and trailing over her bare shoulders. And she always looked her best when she was naked. Charlie and River were great friends to her, but she was a class above them and she didn’t need all that shit.
Laney stopped by the wall and leaned back against it. I watched her lips moving like she was talking to herself and I cocked my head to one side, wondering what the fuck she was doing. I stalked over to her, wondering if I could take her back to my old room and fuck her brains out before I sent her home with a prospect.
By the time I got to her, her eyes were closed and her head tilted up to the ceiling. She was still whispering something and I leaned in closer, desperate to know what it was. I couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping when I realized that she was singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”
Her eyes opened abruptly, her head tilting to look at me, and I watched as she struggled to focus her eyes on me, a slow, sexy smile crawling up her face once she did.
