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There was a lot of hot sex that morning, too.
After we showered and ate breakfast, we were summoned to the DEA field office, where we were interrogated by a seemingly endless horde of government investigators. Two days, twelve hours a day, nothing but repeating our stories ad nauseam. But Fordham was as good as his word: after the questioning was done, the DEA let us go.
As he walked us out to the parking lot, Fordham asked, “So what’s the play? You going to stay in Richards and try to rebuild the gang?”
“Motorcycle club,” Jack corrected him.
“Potato, po-tah-to.”
“Mm,” Jack grunted, then shook his head. “No, I was thinking I’d go up north and try to start over.”
I looked at him in surprise. This was the first I’d heard of it.
“There’s nothing left for me here in Richards,” Jack continued. “If I stay, I’m just the guy who sold out his club.”
“I think you mean gang,” Fordham said mischievously.
“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Jack said.
Fordham chuckled.
“Speaking of starting over,” Jack added, “I could use some help. Back when he was trying to get me to come in, Peters said he’d told the insurance company I’d torched my own house and body shop, which means I couldn’t collect. Is there something you can do about that?”
“Yeah, he needs to pay his friends,” Sid said. “Me, specifically.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Fordham said.
I spoke up. “My car got burned up in the fire, too – can you – ”
“Yes, yes, okay,” Fordham said, waving us off. “I’ll put it on the list.”
I was annoyed that he was brushing it off like that. I thought of my photo book of Ali and said, “Everything we owned got burned up.”
“Yeah, well, I had a lot of evidence disappear in a fire the other day, too,” Fordham said. “A certain meth lab.”
Uh oh.
“I noticed in all your testimony that you never gave up your source for the rocket launcher,” Fordham continued.
“Just a guy from LA,” Jack lied.
“Uh-huh. That ‘guy’ wouldn’t happen to be your ex-wife, would it?”
My stomach dropped.
“No,” Jack said, keeping an admirable poker face.
“Uh-huh. Tell her and her Bastards to keep their noses clean, or I might have to come knocking on her door.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. She wasn’t part of the original deal, so I’ll let her slide – for now. You keep your nose clean, too, Pollari. I don’t ever want to run into you again, unless it’s over a cold beer at a bar someday.”
“It’s a deal,” Jack said. “What about Kade?”
“What about me?” a familiar voice asked.
As we all turned around, I cried out in delight. Kade was walking towards us stiffly. He wore jeans and a crisp white t-shirt, but with a noticeable bulge of bandages under the fabric.
