Chapter 20 Bones #2
“We can slow them down. Maybe stop them entirely.” Josie pauses. “It’s not a guarantee. But it’s our best legal option.”
“What about the mayor?” Cash asks.
“Mayor Roberts is complicated,” Josie says carefully. “Old school, likes things quiet. Looked the other way when Summit caused problems last year.”
“In their pocket or too weak to fight them,” Hawk says bluntly.
“Maybe both. But his term ends in eight months, and word is he won’t run again.
” Josie’s expression darkens. “That’s the real problem.
Summit’s already positioning someone to replace him.
Daniel Vernick—owns businesses downtown, serves on the chamber of commerce.
Looks clean, but I’d bet money he’s Summit-backed. ”
“So they buy the houses, they buy the mayor, they get their zoning changes,” Mack summarizes. “And we’re fucked.”
“Not if we get ahead of it,” Stone says. “Josie, you said we need community involvement. What does that look like?”
“Town meeting. Soon. Get people together, explain what’s happening, organize opposition.” Josie looks around the table. “The more people who show up to oppose Summit at public hearings, the harder it is for politicians to ignore them. Especially in an election year.”
“The community trusts us,” Duck says. “They came to us before. They’ll come again.”
“Maybe.” Stone doesn’t sound convinced. “But there’s a difference between asking for help quietly and standing up in a public meeting. People are scared.”
“Then we frame it right,” Josie says. “This isn’t MC versus Summit.
This is the community versus displacement.
Luxury condos that no one in Stoneheart can afford, pricing out people who’ve lived here for decades.
” She makes a note. “That’s the angle. This isn’t progress—it’s gentrification. And the community deserves a say.”
Stone stands, pacing to the wall and back. I can see him working through scenarios, weighing options.
“All right,” he says finally. “Here’s what we do. Josie, you work with the town clerk or whoever you need to work with to organize a town meeting. Make it official. Invite the press. Make it a real community event.”
“I can do that.”
“Tank, Hawk—door-to-door. Invite people to the meeting, get commitments they’ll show up and speak.”
“On it.”
“Bones, Axel—dig into Daniel Vernick. If he’s Summit’s plant, I want proof.”
“We’ll find it.”
“Mack, Duck—talk to Erica and anyone willing to be a public face. Get their stories ready.” He looks at Cash. “You handle logistics. Clubhouse needs to feel welcoming for civilians.”
Nods around the table.
Stone looks around the table. “This isn’t going to be quick. This isn’t going to be easy. But if we do this right—if we organize the community, fight this legally, and put pressure on the politicians—we can stop Summit from destroying this neighborhood.”
“And if we can’t?” Mack asks.
“Then we let them know that last time was just a warning—they need to stay out of Stoneheart or it’s war.”
The threat thickens the air. The MC will play by the rules as long as the rules work. But if Summit pushes too hard, if they threaten the community too directly—
All bets are off.
“When’s the town meeting?” Hawk asks Josie.
“I’ll push for next week. Sooner the better. Gives Summit less time to organize their own counter-narrative.”
“One week.” Stone nods. “That’s our timeline. Bones and Axel, I want that research on Vernick before the meeting. Tank and Hawk, I want at least fifty residents committed to showing up. Josie, I want that meeting organized, advertised, and packed.”
Everyone nods, the energy in the room shifting from discussion to action.
“All right.” Stone heads for the door. “Let’s get to work. We’ve got a town to save.”
As everyone files out, I hang back for a moment.
The weight of what we’re about to do settles over me—not just the research, but the bigger picture.
We’re about to go to war with Summit again.
Not with fists and bikes and burned buildings, but with paperwork and public hearings and political pressure.
It’s a different kind of fight. But it’s still a fight.
And this time, we’re going to stop them for good.
I head back to the main room to find Emma exactly where I left her, now with hot pink fingernails and what looks like a face mask situation happening with Maggie and Ginger.
“Don’t laugh,” Emma warns when she sees me.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I crouch next to her chair. “You look very . . . cucumber-y.”
“Maggie says it’s good for my skin.”
“Maggie says a lot of things.”
“I heard that,” Maggie calls from the kitchen.
Emma grins behind her face mask. “How’d it go?”
“Good. We’ve got a plan.” I take her hand, being careful of her wet nail polish. “Town meeting next week. We’re organizing the community to fight Summit’s development.”
“How can I help?”
I study her face—the determination there, the need to be useful. “You’re good with kids. With teaching. Maybe you help get the younger generation involved? Their parents are more likely to show up if their kids care about the issue.”
Her eyes light up. “I could do a whole thing with the kids at the community center. Talk about what Stoneheart means to us, why it’s worth preserving.”
There it is. That spark I fell in love with. Not Emma the ballerina, performing for critics. Emma the wildfire, finding something worth fighting for.
“Perfect.” I kiss the top of her head, carefully avoiding the face mask. “But first, you rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Good. Keep doing that.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.
Stone strolls over and just looks at Maggie and Ginger, who quickly take their spa show to the kitchen.
“Everything OK?” I ask, my nerves getting the better of me.
“Good work this morning,” he says.
“Thanks.” I’m not sure where this is going, but Stone’s moods are never random. He always has a reason.
He glances at Emma, who’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, then back at me.
For a second he just stands there, and I’m about two seconds away from screaming, WHAT DO YOU WANT!
?! before he reaches into the pocket of his cut and pulls out a battered strip of leather, the officer patch he took off me when I took things too far.
He twirls the leather between his fingers, the white-stitched letters still reading INTEL.
I remember the night he yanked it off, the way it stung more than a busted nose or a bullet graze could.
I was pissed over how I went out, but I understood why he did it—too dangerous, too reckless, too much me in the engine and not enough brakes.
He holds the patch out to me.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want this back,” he says, voice low. “But after this morning, I think maybe you’re ready for it.”
I take it. The leather feels warm and familiar and slightly oily, like it’s absorbed years of sweat and adrenaline and nervous energy. He keeps his hand on mine a second longer, pinning the patch between us.
“Do me proud, Bones,” Stone says. And for a second I see past the president act, see the man who gave up everything for this club and his family. Who is still—deep down—just a dad who wants his daughter to be safe and happy.
He lets go and walks away before it gets too emotional, leaving me there with the patch in my palm and my throat tight enough to hurt.
This piece of leather shouldn’t mean so much. It’s just a patch. Just a title.
But it’s also proof that I’m still part of this family. That what I did for Emma didn’t cost me everything.
I turn to Emma, who’s pretending she didn’t just see that whole exchange, but she’s dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a napkin.
“Oh, swan. Are you crying?” I tease.
“No,” she sniffs. “It’s these stupid pills.”
“Sure, the pills.” I kneel down beside her and let my voice get real low so only she can hear. “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty close to happy tears too.”