Chapter 1
One
Never push a crazy person past the point where they’re afraid of their actions.
—Life lesson
Odin
What were the fuckin’ odds that a dead man would be required to serve jury duty?
Honestly, it was quite fucking comical, truth be told.
I mean, what were the odds that a convicted felon in his old life, locked up for life, who then escaped from prison, faked his death, who then moved to Nowhere, Montana, to join a motorcycle club and get facial reconstructive surgery to hide his face would then get invited to jury duty?
Even worse, I wasn’t able to get out of it, either.
I studied my face in the mirror like I did every morning, wondering if I would ever get used to looking back at a different man.
A year ago, when I’d been broken out of prison by a man named Apollo, he’d given me the option of a life as a recluse—because there was no fuckin’ way to hide a man that killed a governor on live television—or get reconstructive surgery to change my face.
I’d gone with surgery.
And dyed my hair like a fuckin’ woman.
No longer did I have brown hair and blue eyes.
Now I had blonde hair that I bleached on a regular basis then toned so it wasn’t poison bleach yellow, and green eyes thanks to a more permanent tattoo to my cornea called keratopigmentation.
My cheekbones were slightly more pronounced, as well as my jaw being more square.
Oh, and I’d had dimpleplasty.
I also couldn’t grow my beard out, either, because I’d always worn a beard.
Now I was a smooth, baby face with dimples and a square jaw that women loved.
Only, this face wasn’t my own.
I was living a lie.
And I still didn’t know what to think about it.
I was still just as fuckin’ angry at the world as I was when I first shot Man Wise in the face.
Permanently fucking angry and no end in sight.
The phone rang, and I reluctantly picked it up.
“Yeah?”
“Fuck, man. I can’t get you out of it.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s fine. I’m going.”
“Sorry again,” Black muttered. “I have a lot of people on my ass right now, and it’ll look weird if I get you out of it.”
“No problem,” I lied.
It was a problem.
Mostly because I hated fucking people now.
I hated the world and myself, too.
There was no preferential treatment in my hate.
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “Hopefully you don’t get chosen.”
I fuckin’ hoped so, too.
“They’ll hopefully see my face and decide that they don’t want permanently angry people on their jury.”
“One can hope.” Black laughed.
Black was actually Black Adkins, Jesper County Sheriff.
He was probably my only close friend, and only because he was just as standoffish and angry as I was.
He was the reason I’d joined the Dixie Wardens Motorcycle Club, too.
A year and a half ago, when me and seven other men had arrived freshly broken out of jail, Apollo had built a pseudo-life for us.
He’d given us jobs, bought us houses, planned our lives out, and pretty much dropped us right smack dab into someone else’s life.
Even though, technically, it hadn’t been anyone else’s life before Apollo had created it.
With that already made-up life had come the Dixie Wardens MC—Montana Chapter.
Denver, the club president, as well as several other of the club members, had taken us under their wing and given us prospect cuts and pretended like we’d been in Bear Pass/Sawtooth/Jaw Bone all along.
The three tight-knit cities had housed a massive chapter for the Dixie Wardens, and they’d vouched for us.
They gave us a back story when we had none.
And now we were all a part of them.
Well, all of us but one.
Romeo hadn’t joined the club.
He’d been content in his life and had dropped out of “prospecting” as soon as it was believable.
Plus, Romeo was Apollo’s brother-in-law.
He had a backup plan if his life didn’t pan out the way he wanted it to—or he got caught.
The rest of us? We had Apollo, but we didn’t have as tight of a connection.
So, we’d assimilated.
We’d deep dived into the motorcycle club life.
And, surprisingly, the rest of us had all liked it.
I’d never in my life thought that I would call myself an MC member.
Yet, there I was doing it.
Overall, I liked my newfound family.
They left me alone, I left them alone.
They came to me when they needed stitched up.
I came to them when I needed a break from my life.
It was a definite give and take.
But Black had been the best friend that I never knew I wanted.
He understood my anger and let me deal with it, while also hanging around and being a shoulder to lean on even when I didn’t want it.
“They going to be able to spare you for however long it takes?” Black asked.
I sighed. “Hopefully. They said they’d call someone down from another county if needed, but let’s face it. Nothing much happens in Jesper County. The last medical examination I had to do was a month ago.”
“Famous last words.” Black laughed. “Good thing you have the governor’s money to live off of.”
That was another fun little perk.
When Apollo had created my new life, he’d funneled every single cent that Man Wise had accrued over his lifetime and given it to me. With Man having no living heirs, and a new wife that we all knew didn’t fuckin’ need it, Apollo had decided that I should get the money for my pain and suffering.
Seeing as I hated that man and didn’t care if I lived off the money he made, I’d taken him up on the offer.
But I’d also made sure to donate a lot of it, too.
“Heading out, I guess,” I grumbled. “It’s going to take me two hours to get there.”
“Got it.”
Black hung up without saying goodbye, but I didn’t fault him for it.
I did the same to him when I was done with conversations.
Another reason we got along so well.
We were both assholes.
Heading out the door, I was zero surprised when I saw Bernice waving at me.
I jerked my chin toward her in a hello, but didn’t wave back.
Bernice was Creed’s sister. Creed was another member of the Dixie Wardens, as well as one of the men that’d escaped prison with me. He was a good guy, as was his sister.
But Bernice was too damn nice.
Way too damn nice.
I’d never go there.
It’d be like kicking a puppy if I ever raised my voice at her.
“Hey, I was wondering if you could give me a ride to work today.” She skipped over, a smile on her face. “My car won’t start.”
I looked at her car, then at her.
Then spotted Huxley across the road and down several houses.
Huxley, who also worked at The Mercantile with her.
Well, sort of.
His parents owned The Mercantile, and he worked behind it, still attached to the building, in his own butcher shop.
“Hux!”
His head whipped around and he stared at me in surprise. Likely because I’d even acknowledged him at all.
His tattoos flashed as he raised his hand and waved.
That’s when I stepped to the side and he saw Bernice.
His face went completely blank.
“You’re leaving for work, right?” I questioned.
He nodded once.
“Can you give her a ride to work?” I asked. “I have to go to Bozeman, the complete opposite way that y’all are going. And her car won’t start.”
He nodded once.
That was it.
I looked back at Bernice, who was staring at me like I’d just betrayed her.
“There’s your ride,” I said.
She nodded. “Thanks.”
I didn’t reply with a “you’re welcome” because I didn’t do anything.
That, and I tried not to talk.
It hurt.
I had a cold last week and I was still recovering from the sore throat.
That, and the cough wasn’t fucking helping.
Today should be fun as I tried to sit among a lot of people in an enclosed room.
Everyone would be looking.
Fuckin’ awesome.