by Brook Wilder
They were my future.
Epilogue
Legionnaire’s Bar, Tuesday Night
I drummed my fingers along the scarred bar top, not even looking up when Johnny poured me another whiskey.
“You seem distracted tonight.”
I gripped the glass, watching the dark liquid swirl around the single ice cube that was present.
“Dead night around here, isn’t it?”
Johnny chuckled.
“Well, when there’s a war, ain’t nobody got time for a drink. Bad for business, I tell you. If they would just all go get drunk, then everyone would get along.”
I chuckled, knocking back the whiskey, enjoying the slide of the liquid down my throat, burning into my stomach.
War was coming, if it wasn’t already here. The Cazadores had declared war on the Legion, and I had seen not one Legion in this bar since. Word was that Jack Carry and Fox Lawrence were busy coming up with a plan, while the Cazadores were just wreaking havoc on everything that had a Legion stamp on it.
I was waiting for them to hit the bar, posting extra security every night since the war had been formally called. So far, I had gotten off good, but it was coming.
Everyone could feel it.
Leaving the empty glass, I pushed away from the stool and walked back to the closet I called an office, wanting something to keep my mind off what I really wanted to do.
I should be fighting with them. I should be part of the plan, part of the war. But that would mean giving up my freedom and picking a side when, right now, I was neutral. Sure, I had dealings with both sides. I wasn’t stupid. If I wanted to keep my bar safe from going up in flames like the rest of Greenwood, then I had to take extra precautions, and more than just security.
So, I had spread the rumor that I wasn’t picking a side, that I wasn’t part of Legion. I was a businessman first, a Legion member second.
Or tenth, depending on who you talked to.
Even though my father had founded the damn club, his only son, his Irish bastard, wasn’t part of it. I didn’t have anything personal against them, though one mistake on my part had set me on the fringes of being welcomed back to the fold.
And I could plead my case. Fox Lawrence had seemed to give me an out to do so, before this damn war, but that would mean admitting that I had been in the wrong that day. That I had gotten him killed.
Blowing out a breath, I sat down in the chair behind the desk, looking at the log book. It was time to order more alcohol, prepare for the aftermath where the bar would be filled again and we would be back in business. I would be prepared, though I hoped that the Cazadores were on the losing end.
I hated them, fucking hated them.
A knock on my door caught my attention, and I looked up, swearing under my breath.
“What the hell, Andrew?”
Andrew’s red-rimmed eyes and nervous behavior told me all I needed to know.
“I just need a twenty, Derrek, just a twenty.”
I stood up, clenching my jaw.
“What about a stiff drink to take the edge off? Then we will get you some food.”
“N-no,” Andrew forced out, his eyes skirting around the room, looking for the money he claimed he needed.
He needed the money alright, but it was so that he could buy himself a fix.
“Come on, let’s go see Johnny,” I tried again, approaching him cautiously.
Cocaine addicts were unpredictable and sometimes felt as if they had superman strength. I had been on the receiving end a time or two.
“N-no,” he said again as I steered him out of the room, his hands rubbing up and down his arms. “I-I just need a twenty fix, Derrek. Just one.”
I had heard that more times than I could count. It was always just a twenty or a fifty, whatever he thought he could get from me.
And I caved in the beginning. It had been hard to see him like this.
But I had learned that I wasn’t helping him. I was only hurting him, and now he knew he couldn’t get any money from me.
Why he still came to me, I didn’t know.
“I got him,” Johnny announced as we walked back into the bar, a drink waiting in his hands. “Come on Andrew. I got your favorite mac and cheese ready.”
Andrew was quiet as Johnny led him behind the bar, disappearing from my sight. I blew out a breath, my hands on my hips as I watched my former best friend leave, wondering if there would ever be a day that I would be identifying his body instead of seeing him clean and sober.
It was another reason I hated the Cazadores. They were the ones that fed Andrew the drugs. They were the ones that had gotten him hooked on cocaine.
And if I had to choose, I would be going with the Legion for that reason.
I wanted my taste of vengeance against them.
For Andrew.
END OF BOOK 1
BOOK 2: Get ready for another standalone book in the second book of the Grim Legion MC trilogy! Available soon!
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OTHER BOOKS BY BROOK WILDER
DEVIL’S HORSEMEN MC TRILOGY
WRECKED
SHATTERED
DEFILED
GRIZZLY MC TRILOGY
TRAPPED
SNARED
TANGLED
DEVIL’S HORSEMEN MC TRILOGY
WRECKED
SHATTERED
DEFILED
FRONTIER REAPERS MC TRILOGY
DECEIVED
BETRAYED
FORSAKEN
DEVIL’S MARTYRS MC SERIES
DEVIL’S DEAL
DEVIL’S SEED
DEVIL’S BARGAIN
DEVIL’S PACT
DEVIL’S VOW
DEVIL’S PASSION
GHOST RIDERS MC SERIES
BOUGHT
SHACKLED
DIRTY CRUISERS MC SERIES
RIDE HARD
RIDE ROUGH
RIDE WILD
RIDE FREE
RIDE DEEP
RIDE HOME
CONTARINI CRIME FAMILY SERIES
CLAIMED BY THE DON
CHAINED BY THE DON
BOUND BY THE DON
BROKEN HOUNDS MC SERIES
RENEGADE
REVENGE
REDEMPTION
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