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“And for now, all you need to know is this was necessary,” Jamie Boy says, stepping out from the back with his three brothers.
The way they stand in a line behind Pope has it all clicking into place.
“It was you in the video.”
Ritchie laughs. “We haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”
“Let’s get this over with so you can celebrate having your brother home.”
The brothers take turns greeting Pope. The guy’s never been hugged so much, and by the grouchy look on his face, it won’t ever happen again.
The brothers part, revealing Kyla and Victoria in the doorway, shocked, their pain clear for all to see.
Ricky nudges Kyla, and then they’re both moving. Pope cracks at having his girls in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry you hurt for me.”
Kissing them both on the tops of their heads, he steps back so he can sign to her.
Crashing against him, she hugs him so tight, I witness his eyes pool with regretful tears.
“We deserve an explanation,” Mason declares.
Sitting back at the table, I kick out a chair for Pope, who keeps Victoria under his arm as he joins me, pulling up another chair for his granddaughter.
Ricky consoles Kyla, and the twins jump on the bar, making themselves comfortable. The Kings take up their seats around the table while the rest of the brothers settle in.
“As far as the authorities are concerned, Pope is dead, and he needs to stay that way. That means no one outside of the club can know he still breathes,” Ritchie begins. “When we give our word that we’re here to help in any capacity, we mean it. We staged the entire fucking thing, and for it to be believed, your club’s reactions and grief had to be real.”
Cody chimes in next. “As you can see, Pope wasn’t shot multiple times. We used blanks, blood packs, and gave Pope a crash course in acting.”
“Okay, but whose ashes did we bury today?” Sparky asks.
“We have no clue. We sent for ashes, and that’s what we got.”
“Next question. Why was Rathbone used in your little show?”
“Because Rathbone was our competitor who was waging a war against us. We got to him a few weeks ago, and his body was pulled from the river last week. By using him, we made it look like his family killed Pope, giving the feds a bonafide victim Pope supposedly killed.”
“So this family, are we now going to be fighting a war on your behalf?” I question Jamie Boy.
“If it comes down to it. We have your backs, and you have ours.”
“And the feds just believe your little homemade video?” Slade questions warily.
Cody lights a cigarette and blows the smoke away from everyone at the table before saying, “Money talks back home. But here in your country, it screams, and knowing and paying the right people doesn’t make people believe, it makes files disappear and a death certificate appear.”
Producing an envelope from his jacket pocket, he slides it across the table. Opening it, I find Pope’s death certificate inside and smile. It’s genuine.
“So this is over?”
“Oh, Cas.” Ritchie grins, setting me on edge. “It’s only just beginning.”
Epilogue
Willow’s Peak. The town I grew up in and hated every second of. It’s a place where people know who you are, where you live—all your dark secrets, and not so secret secrets, but never openly spoke of. I spent my childhood covered in bruises, suffering broken bones, and wearing dirty clothes and beat-up kicks, but not one person asked why. No one asked what they could do to help. No one cared.
That’s not exactly true. One person cared. A boy with startling green eyes, and a fist that could rival my father’s. He was the one person who touched me with love and affection, and he’s the one person I fight on a daily basis not to think about.
There’s only one motorcycle parked up out front of the Jackson home, and I will the feeling in my legs to return as I climb out of my car. I’d recognise the bike anywhere. It belongs to Mr. Jackson, the only man I want to see.
