Chapter 17
Humbug
By the time I roll back into the compound, the snow’s gone to ash and the whole damn town’s humming with my sins.
Word travels fast in Evervale. Faster in the club.
When I park, Frost’s waiting under the awning with a smoke already lit for me. He doesn’t speak at first, just looks at me, eyes cutting through the dark like a priest waiting for a confession.
“Whole bar heard,” he says finally.
“Yeah.”
“Your woman got more guts than sense.”
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
He hands me the cigarette. I take it, drag deep, feel the burn settle in my lungs like something earned.
“She quit her job,” he adds.
“I know.”
“You proud of that?”
“I’m proud of her.”
He grunts, flicks ash into the snow. “You better be ready, brother. Prez is mad as hell. Trina keeps runnin’ her mouth to anyone who’ll listen, and now the sheriff’s sniffin’ around the club again. You brought heat down.”
The clubhouse looks smaller tonight. Quieter. Like it’s holding its breath.
Lil’ Nick waits inside, arms folded, face red from cold or fury, probably both. “Trina called me,” he says before I can even close the door. “She’s filing charges, Humbug. Says you assaulted her.”
“Never touched her.”
“Tells me you’re a danger to the club’s reputation.”
I almost laugh. “Am I supposed to cry?”
Nick slams his fist on the table. “You don’t get it, son! You’re family here, and family don’t burn down their own house!”
I meet his stare, steady. “Maybe the house was already on fire.”
He curses under his breath, pacing. “You think the Executioners can survive bad press? You think our brothers can ride free when the whole town thinks we’re out kidnappin’ bartenders?”
“Nobody kidnapped a bartender,” I growl. “She walked into my storm on her own.”
“That’s not what her boyfriend told the cops.” His voice cracks like a whip. “You used the colors to chase a woman who had somethin’ to lose.”
I step closer, heat rising. “I didn’t use nothin’. I fell in love.”
That shuts him up.
“You fucked up,” he repeats, low and dangerous. “You’re supposed to be my sergeant, my right hand, not some lovesick fool wreckin’ the patch’s name.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I started over.”
He shakes his head. “You’re a damn fool, Jack.”
“Probably,” I say. “But I’m a fool who’s finally tellin’ the truth.”
“Go get your girl,” he relents.
I walk out before he can say anything else. Frost’s still by the door. He doesn’t stop me. He just nods once. “She better be worth it.”
“She is,” I say. “She’s the only thing that ever was.”
But I have unfinished business first.
My house is dark when I get there. Trina’s home. The front yard looks like a war zone, trash bags full of my life dumped in the snow. My clothes. My tools. A few old photos in shattered frames.
I light another smoke, stare at the pile. There’s a note taped to the top, written in red again. “You deserve the cold”.
She’s right. I do.
I leave it all there. Flick my lit cigarette into the pile.
That pile can burn. House can burn for all I care, too. Canceled the insurance months ago. Maybe the bitch will finally leave town. But I don’t want Trina dead. Not by my hand at least. Karma can kill her anytime now.
I shoot her a text: Hope the smoke detector’s working at my house. Brother rode by and saw smoke.
I’ve got one place left to go.
Her street’s dark except for one upstairs window glowing gold. The sight of it hits like mercy. I kill the engine, climb the steps two at a time, and knock before I can talk myself out of it.