Chapter 27 Mercy
MERCY
When we step into the great room, it’s even more packed than earlier. Stone stands in full MC regalia, arms folded, expression pure granite. He nods at us.
“Take a seat.”
We slide into the closest empty chairs.
Stone waits until the shuffle of bodies goes quiet, then leans in. His eyes sweep the room and land on me, hold there a beat, and then he starts in that slow, measured way that always means the news is bad.
“We’ve got confirmation.” His voice is gravel, low and deadly.
“Summit’s behind the fire. They tried to take out Duck’s garage, but got sloppy.
Duck caught one of them, and he’s currently duct-taped to a chair in the club’s warehouse.
Second guy ran, but prospects are hunting.
” A ripple of laughter. I see Duck at the back, arms folded, looking like he’d murder a man with a socket wrench and sleep just fine.
Stone scans the room. “No one leaves the compound tonight except on my word. No deliveries, no girls, not even for smokes. If you see a car slow-rolling the block, you bring it straight to me. As of now, we’re on full lockdown until every last one of these fuckers is accounted for.
Are we clear?” A sea of nods and murmured agreement rolls through the room.
Then he fixes us with that don’t-fuck-around stare. “Cash. Mercy. You find anything on those camera feeds?”
Cash shakes his head, lips pressed thin. “No solid faces. They kept their hoods up and heads down for every camera in the bar and alley we’ve checked so far. But we haven’t gotten through all the feeds yet.”
Stone’s jaw twitches, disappointment uncoiling behind his composure. “Then keep at it. When you get something solid, bring it straight to me.”
He dismisses everyone and we get back to work.
I pull up the footage from yet another camera from the night before the fire, starting from the fire and working backward.
At first, it’s just more nothing. But then, a little before dawn the day before, a black SUV pulls into frame. Expensive. Tinted windows.
“That’s not typical for Devil’s,” I murmur.
Cash leans in closer to see. “That’s a Summit truck. Can you zoom in?”
I do. The back door opens, and a man in an expensive suit gets out. Even in the grainy footage, everything about him screams money and danger.
“Who the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but—wait.” Cash jumps onto his laptop to find another camera angle, trying to get a better view of his face. I read out the timestamp for him, and after a few moments, he turns the screen toward me. “There.”
The image clears enough to make out his features. Sharp jaw, silver at his temples, cold eyes.
The chapel door opens, and in walks Josie.
“This is a fucking nightmare.” She’s carrying a fresh coffee and her laptop.
She sets it all down with a sigh. “That guy Duck caught isn’t talking.
Nitro’s been working him over. But—” She jerks forward, her eyes locking on the screen.
“Oh my god.” She pulls out her phone, starts typing frantically. “That’s Vincent Caruso.”
“Who?” I ask.
“He’s on the FBI’s most wanted list.” Josie’s fingers fly over her phone screen.
“Money laundering, racketeering, suspected ties to three different organized crime families. The feds have been trying to nail him for years.” She looks up at us, face grim.
“What the hell is he doing outside Devil’s Bar? ”
“We don’t know yet,” I say.
“Hit play.”
We do. Five minutes later, another car pulls up. This one I recognize immediately, and my stomach drops.
“That’s Gabriel’s car.”
Cash’s hand finds mine under the table, squeezes. On screen, Gabriel gets out. He’s not in uniform—jeans and a leather jacket, trying to look casual. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he keeps glancing around.
He walks straight to Caruso.
“Can we get audio?” Josie asks, already pulling up her laptop.
“Not from the outside cameras.”
We watch as Gabriel and Caruso head to the back of the building. They’re gone for ten minutes. When they come back, two other men are with them—wearing maintenance uniforms.
“Those are the guys from the other footage,” I say. “The ones who cut the sprinkler lines.”
“And we can finally see their faces,” Cash adds.
Josie’s typing notes on her phone. “This is premeditation. Clear conspiracy. Keep watching.”
Gabriel’s doing most of the talking, gesturing. Caruso just listens, face expressionless. Then he nods once, pulls out an envelope, hands it to Gabriel.
“Payment,” Cash breathes. “That’s fucking payment for services rendered.”
Gabriel takes the envelope, looks at the cash inside, nods. Then they all shake hands.
“We have it,” Josie says. “Federal conspiracy charges. RICO charges. This ties Gabriel and Summit directly to organized crime.” She’s already pulling up contacts on her phone. “This is huge. This could bring down the whole operation.”
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Now I make calls.” Josie stands, phone already to her ear. “The FBI has been trying to build a case against Caruso for years. They’re going to be all over this.”
She steps out of the chapel and calls for Stone, then immediately starts talking rapidly to whoever answered her call.
Cash and I sit in stunned silence for a moment.
“Gabriel’s going to get arrested, isn’t he?” I whisper, not quite believing it.
Cash moves closer, hand resting on my thigh. “Yeah. He’s done, angel.”
I let out a relieved laugh just as the chapel door opens. Stone and Josie walk in together, and Stone’s face carries that particular satisfaction of a man who’s been waiting months for vindication.
“Show me,” Stone says without preamble.
We walk them through the footage—Caruso arriving, meeting with Gabriel, the Summit employees, the payment. Stone’s expression gets darker and more satisfied with each frame.
“I always thought Hawk was over the top with the number of cameras he puts everywhere. But this...” Stone’s voice is steel wrapped in velvet. “Months of these fuckers trying to squeeze this town dry. And now we have them dead to rights.”
Josie’s already pulling up contacts on her phone. “I’m giving this to our local guys now. But I need you to send me the raw footage so I can forward it to my contact with the Feds.” She starts typing rapidly. “They’re going to move fast on this.”
“Good.” Stone crosses his arms. “Send them everything. Every frame, every angle. I want Summit buried so deep they need a shovel to find daylight.”
“On it,” Cash says as Josie steps away, phone to her ear.
I look up at Stone as Cash starts compiling footage. “So that’s it? We just wait for the FBI to pick them up?”
“Pretty much,” Stone confirms. “But we also need to stay alert. Desperate people do stupid things. So, this isn’t over until they’re all behind bars.”
The chapel door bangs open. Bones fills the doorway, face tight.
“We’ve got a problem at the front gate.”
Stone’s expression doesn’t change, but the air in the room shifts. “What kind of problem?”
“Gabriel just pulled up with two of his cop buddies. He’s drunk off his ass and demanding to see Mercy.”
Every muscle in my body locks up. Cash’s hand finds mine immediately, squeezing.
“How drunk?” Stone asks.
“Three sheets to the wind. Face is all fucked up from his fight with Cash. His buddies don’t look much better.” Bones glances at me. “He’s making a scene. Yelling about how he has a message from Summit and the only one he’ll talk to is you, Merc.”
Stone’s jaw tightens. “Everyone out front. Now. Full show of force.”
We move as one, and the clubhouse erupts, brothers grabbing cuts, checking weapons, prospects falling into formation. Ginger materializes at my side.
“You don’t have to see him,” she says quietly.
“Yes, I do.” I square my shoulders. “He said he has a message from Summit. Plus, I need to look him in the eye one last time and show him he doesn’t scare me anymore.”
Cash takes my hand. “I’m right here, angel.”
“I know.”
We file out into the cool night. The clubhouse security lights turn everything stark and shadowless. Gabriel’s car is parked sideways across the gate entrance, blocking it. He’s leaning against the hood, and even from here I can see how wrecked he looks.
His face is a catastrophe of bruises—both eyes blackened, nose swollen, lip split and crusted with dried blood.
His clothes are rumpled, shirt untucked, and he’s swaying like a tree in high wind.
His two cop buddies are trying to hold him upright while looking anywhere but at the wall of bikers facing them down.
“There she is!” Gabriel shouts when he spots me. His voice is slurred, raw. “My darling wife. Or should I say ex-wife?” He spits on the ground like the word is poison.
I step forward, Cash a solid presence at my back. “Guess you got the paperwork then.”
He lurches upright, almost falling, then bellows, “Oh I got it! Hand delivered by a lawyer’s assistant with a stick up her ass.
You know how humiliating that is, Mercedes?
To have your friends and colleagues see you served like some piece of trash?
” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself. Hope you’ve fucked all of them good and proper.
Because a piece of paper changes nothing!
You think running with these criminals and spreading your legs for the first biker trash who looked at you makes you free?
I didn’t sign shit. You don’t get to be free from me. ”
Cash tenses beside me, but I squeeze his hand. “I don’t think I’m free, Gabriel. I know I am. The divorce is final whether you signed or not. The judge granted me my freedom from you, and I’m done.”
“You’re not done until I say you’re done!” He lurches forward, and his buddies barely catch him. “You’re my wife, Mercedes. Mine. You don’t get to just—just divorce me and move on like I’m nothing. Like our marriage meant nothing.”
“Our marriage was a prison,” I say, voice steady. “And you were the warden.”
His face contorts with rage. “I gave you everything! A home, security, status—”
“You gave me an eating disorder and PTSD,” I cut him off. “You controlled every aspect of my life, down to what I could eat and how I wore my hair. You isolated me from friends and family. You made me believe I was worthless.” My voice rises. “That’s not love, Gabriel. That’s abuse.”
“Abuse?” He’s screaming now. “I protected you! I took care of you! And this is how you repay me? By whoring yourself out to some pretty-boy criminal half your age?”
“I’m twenty-six,” Cash says mildly. “She’s thirty-two. That’s a six-year difference. Hardly scandalous.”
“Shut up!” Gabriel tries to lunge at Cash but stumbles. “This is between me and my wife!”
“Ex-wife,” Stone corrects. “And you’re trespassing on private property. State your business or leave.”
Gabriel straightens as much as he can, trying to look official despite being barely able to stand.
“Summit wants a sit-down.” Each word comes out over-pronounced like he’s trying to prove he’s not drunk.
“To discuss terms moving forward. They’re willing to negotiate, maybe even back off.
If you stop interfering with their development plans. ”
“And if we don’t?” Stone asks.
“Then they can’t guarantee anyone’s safety.” Gabriel’s eyes slide to me, and there’s something vicious in them. “Buildings burn. People disappear. Accidents happen to those who don’t cooperate.”
“Is that a threat?” Stone’s voice is deadly quiet.
“It’s a fact.” Gabriel pulls himself up straighter. “Summit has friends. Powerful friends. Friends who don’t appreciate being backed into corners by a gang of motorcycle thugs.”
“Motorcycle club,” Ginger corrects sweetly. “We’re very particular about the terminology.”
“I don’t give a shit what you call yourselves!
” Gabriel’s control is slipping, his face red with rage and alcohol.
“You’re criminals. All of you. And Mercedes—” He focuses on me again.
“You think you’re safe here? You think they’ll protect you?
They’re using you, just like I said they would.
The second you’re not useful anymore, they’ll throw you away. Just like you threw away our marriage.”
“You keep talking about our marriage like it was something sacred,” I say. “But you burned it down yourself, Gabriel. Every cruel word, every rule, every time you made me feel small—you destroyed us long before I left.”
“I made you better!” He’s fully yelling now, specks of spittle flying. “You were nothing when I met you! A nobody teacher with no ambition, no style—”
“She was perfect,” Cash interrupts. “And she still is. The only mistake she made was wasting nine years on you.”
Gabriel’s face goes purple. “You piece of shit. I’m going to—”
That’s when I hear them. Sirens in the distance, getting closer.
Gabriel hears them too. The color drains from his face. “What did you do?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Stone says calmly. “But I believe you’re about to have some visitors.”
Three patrol cars pull up, lights flashing red and blue across Gabriel’s ruined face. But these aren’t his corrupt buddies. These are the good cops—Chief Morrison and his team, the ones who actually care about Stoneheart instead of Summit’s money.
Morrison gets out of the lead car, and he doesn’t look happy. He’s late fifties, built like a man who still does his own heavy lifting. His face is granite as he approaches.
“Gabriel Rogers,” Morrison says, pulling out handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for arson, conspiracy to commit arson, kidnapping, conspiracy to commit crimes in connection with organized crime, and about a dozen other charges I’m going to enjoy reading.”
“What? No.” Gabriel’s voice pitches high. “You can’t arrest me. I’m a cop!”
“You were a cop.” Morrison spins him around, none too gentle. “Now you’re just another criminal. A particularly stupid one, since you decided to show up drunk at your victims’ clubhouse while we were looking for you.”
“And they were making threats too,” Bones points out. “Got it all on camera.” He points to the three cameras covering the gate. “All three of them.”
“I’ll never accuse you of overkill again,” Stone mutters quietly to Hawk, who just smirks. As the club Sergeant at Arms and a man who runs his own security company, he has that look that says he always knew he was doing the right thing.
In the background, the cops finish rounding up Gabriel and his cronies, and I watch as they shove my ex-husband, his wrists cuffed, into a patrol car. For the first time since I met him, he looks scared. Good.
Through the window, I can see Gabriel still screaming, face red and contorted. But I can’t hear him anymore. Can’t hear his threats or his pleas or his rage.
When the three patrol cars pull away, it’s finally over.
Finally.