Chapter Nine
Cass
It takes everything inside of me not to get on Trigger and ride straight home. Gater has no idea what's coming to him and when I get my hands on him, and rest assured, I WILL, he will know exactly why he's getting what he deserves.
I feel like such a fucking idiot. I'm up here, burning skeletons and burying secrets to save my father's reputation and keep him from being caught and charged with murder and it never occurred to me that Lilly was still a fucking target.
I toss back a shot and slam the flimsy plastic shot glass down onto the bartop, crinkling it like a crushed coke can.
I want to put my fist through a wall. A face.
Something. But this is no one's fault but my own.
If I could go back in time, I would've had Digger take care of Gater from the start, when I suspected he was dirty.
Now he's wearing a fucking Moccasins cut, just like I knew he would.
He knows the rules. Out in bad standing is out in bad standing for every club.
At least, every club that respects us. He's weaseled his way into the Moccasins, though, because there is no respect there.
I'm surprised there were even any Moccasins left.
And that's when it all but slaps me in the fucking face.
Gater was the leak all along. Gater was giving inside information to them. And when the war was over, he stepped in for those that were left and took over. I bet he's been recruiting this whole time, building an army of fucking low-lives.
"Brother," Scott's hand on my shoulder rips me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah?" "You're turning red. You need to go blow off some steam?" he asks.
I shake my head. "Nah. I'm good. I just need Gater to be dealt with. I need him to stop fucking with me. We've known him for what, the last ten years? I know he's shady and he's made some shitty choices, but I didn't expect this from him."
"Me either. I never saw betrayal coming. He bled purple and gold. He lived for this club. It's too bad he's going to die for it, too," Scott says the words that I was thinking.
"We're done here. It's time to go home and take care of business," I demand.
Six Months Later
"Baby, can you bring me the other suitcase? I need more space for all your shit!" Lilly calls from the bedroom. She's got one suitcase on the bed that she's stuffing with clothes and evidently, she's running out of room.
"I don't even have that much shit!" I call back, but I'm already grabbing the other suitcase from the hall closet and bringing it to her. I lay it out on the bed, and she stuffs my bathroom bag, the blow-dryer, and a spare pair of my tennis shoes in the suitcase along with a few of her things.
"Ready?" I ask.
"Yes! I'm so excited about this rally!" She nearly squeals with excitement.
Buddy is sprawled across the bed while Lilly finishes packing. He was supposed to be a temporary foster, but after one week, I knew he belonged with us. Lilly tried posting him in a few of the groups on social media for lost pets, but no one came forward and claimed him.
He's been the best dog. He doesn't bark, ever.
He does try to hog the bed, but only Lilly's side where her feet go, so I'm not even that upset about it.
She usually ends up wedged between the two of us, but she doesn't complain.
Gater is still out there, but I feel a little more at peace with having Buddy.
The full system of cameras that are both outside and in some parts of the inside of our home helps, too.
Lilly's been spending some time at the firing range, with either me, Scott, or Aaron, and she's actually turned into a decent shot. I like the fact that she's comfortable packing a pistol.
Gater is going to pop his slimy head up, and when he does, that's going to be his fucking ass. Every club in the area is on guard, ready to knock him out, on sight.
I'm half-expecting them to attempt to show face at the rally.
It'd be pretty stupid of them, but I don't put it past them.
Linc's got a camper he borrowed from a friend and Lilly and I bought a motorhome for this rally, and all the others we plan to attend.
We talked about taking some time and loading up Bud dog and traveling around, going to rallies, and exploring the spaces between.
There are rallies all over, some bigger than others, so we'd have a fair selection of places to go.
I've always wanted to go on one long road trip, visiting every single one of our clubhouses along the way, so maybe we'll do a combination of both when things settle down here.
Clayton and Brock aren't under the gun anymore in Oklahoma.
With the fire that spread, any evidence that didn't come out of the belly of that alligator has been destroyed.
Burnt to a very charred crisp. That investigation has tanked and no mention of it has come up in the last six months.
Clayton dodged a bullet. He did finally spill and tell me what happened in that shed and how Barry's car ended up in that pond.
If there has been any new developments in the case, it hasn't been anything substantial.
Clayton's sources inside the department say that it's gone cold, with no suspects and no ties to the Hounds.
I knew what he and my mom did, all those years ago.
I'm not stupid. But things are so different now.
With how far technology has come, the methods they used to use to cover their tracks are not enough in this day and age.
I was possibly overreacting, but I needed this to go away.
I needed him to avoid a murder charge, and I needed the Hounds not to take any heat for my father's crimes.
Hell, even if Clayton would've gotten arrested, we'd pay for his commissary, the same way we do for Jack who's been incarcerated for the last decade after he got caught lifting a motorcycle.
Cameras today are a little better than they were used to and they got it all on camera, down to Jack's shit-eating grin when he hotwired it and rode off, wearing his cut-off and all.
Jack was around for all of my life and he was crazy as the day is long, but he always had the club's best interest at heart.
It hasn't bothered him one bit to do time for the crimes he committed for this club.
He's up for parole at the end of the year, and rest assured, when he makes it, he will have everything he needs.
Bud dog stretches across the bed and sighs, as if his life is so rough.
I pet him while I wait for Lilly to finish double-checking the suitcase to make sure we've got everything.
Lilly's closing the suitcases and I take them one by one to the motorhome.
I've got a trailer attached to the back with Trigger inside, ready for a four-day weekend with my club brothers.
The dog-sitter is here to pick up Buddy and he's so excited to go with her, that my feelings are a little hurt. He should not be this excited to leave home. Little shit.
He's loaded into her car before she can even fully open the back hatch of her SUV.
I watch them disappear from view from the driver's seat of our RV.
I've got it cranked and the air conditioner is blowing cold, battling this Louisiana summer heat.
Lilly comes stumbling up the stairs of the RV, nearly falling inside when she closes the door behind her.
Her hair is disheveled, stuck to the little bit of sweat on her forehead from the walk from the house to the RV.
She swipes her hair from her face, sets her book sack down on the couch and plops into the passenger seat.
I've already checked and re-checked the ties on the motorcycle in the trailer, the tank is full, and we're ready to head out.
The rally is a two-hour drive from the house and Lilly spends every minute of it serenading me every song that plays on the radio.
We turn down the gravel entryway and stop at the little shack collecting payments and handing out admission bracelets.
I hop out with Lilly on my heels and pay the fee for the weekend and our bracelets.
We park in our designated spot, and I level the RV with the press of a few buttons. I work on getting the slide-outs out while Lilly has gone exploring already. Leo and Shorty pull in, parking a camper in the spot next to ours, making a nice little patio area between our two spots.
Leo is setting up the camper and Lilly and Carrie have already set up a few of the folding chairs and are sitting there sipping on drinks.
I grin as I stare at my girl, watching her finally feel at ease and enjoying life.
I feel a little like a creeper, watching her through the window of the RV.
She's pulled her long black hair into a bun and has on sunglasses, with blue jean shorts and a black Hounds supporter tank top, and of course, her flip-flops.
I open the fridge and grab a few beers on my way outside.
I hand one to Leo and Shorty and pull up a chair by Lilly.
I rest my hand on the inside of her tanned thigh and give it a squeeze.
She stares at me with lust in her eyes and if she doesn't stop it, I'm going to drag her inside and ravage her until we break the shocks on the RV.
"You better stop," I whisper a warning to her, solidifying it with a deep stare.
She smirks at me and takes a sip of her drink, squeezing her thighs together and avoiding my gaze. I'm going to fuck the daylights out of her tonight, if we make it that long. Leo and Shorty set their chairs down in the semi-circle we've started.
"Where's Lucy?" I ask, looking around.
"She's dropping the kids off at the grandparents’ house and she'll be here this evening," Shorty says.
"Don't worry, she wouldn't miss this weekend for the world," he grins, wriggling his eyebrows.