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Pope
“Thomas Flynn, you are charged with first degree murder.”
“It’s about damn time,” I huff.
“What’s your rush? Has your club got something planned maybe?”
Agent Cuntface adds, “Perhaps they’re plotting up somewhere, ready to spring you once we transport you?”
I don’t break a habit of a lifetime, and keep my mouth shut.
“Nah. Maybe he’s just old and thinks the needle is a better way to go, ’cause that’s what you’re facing.”
Taking myself mentally away from these assholes, I seek out my Sally.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cas
He’s been charged. Pope is now the second brother to be charged within the club’s history, Ricky being the first. He was determined to do this for the club, and under the guilt, under everything that forces me to step back because he made me promise not to step in and form a plan to free him, I can’t live with myself if I do nothing. It doesn’t feel right, yet it’s going to have to be something I can live with, because Pope is doing what he has to do to keep the club in one piece.
“Cas! We’ve got company!” JJ calls out. I open my eyes to him seated at the bar, watching the camera screens.
Taking my time getting up, I breathe through the pain in my side as I stand straight. Not that it does shit to help.
Joining JJ, I look to the screen he’s pointing to, and see a cop cruiser has parked up along the curb across the road from the club.
“Nothing came over the scanner.”
“They’re not getting out, so they must be here to watch us. Spread the word that no one is to approach them.”
No sooner have I finished giving him the order, Slade is handing me my phone.
“Banksy.”
Pressing it to my ear, I prepare to hear the worst.
“It’s Cas.”
“Pope’s fired me. I’ll send you my invoice.”
“I’m rehiring you. See this through. I don’t care what he says.”
Damn, Pope.
“He confessed, Cas, and now he’s not saying a word. He’s got FBI here, and they’re planning to move him tomorrow.”
The call ends, and I relay the information to Slade and JJ.
“Explains why we have company,” JJ points out.
“They’re making sure we don’t intercede.”
“So what now?” Slade asks.
My phone rings again, and another cop car pulls up behind the first. Looking at who’s calling, Jamie Boy’s name flashes across the screen.
“Yeah?”
