His Last Chance : Sons of Lost Souls MC Book Seven

by Ellie R. Hunter

  “You’d find their ashes locked in their caskets. Though if you want to disrespect the dead, go for it. But I’ll tell you now, you’re not touching my daughter’s grave.”

  His smirk disappears, but not because I’m intimidating. I reckon it’s to do with the bodies being cremated before the funerals.

  “Now why would you go and bury people who were cremated?”

  “It’s called respect. Now that I’ve answered your questions, you can leave.”

  Spinning around, the letter in my hand weighs me down as I head back to the bar.

  “I think I’ll stick around. See you soon, Slade.”

  Him calling me out by my first name irritates the shit out of me, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and carry on until I’m in the safety of the clubhouse. Heading back up to my room, I grab my phone and message Cas to meet me down in the bar.

  Throwing on a T-shirt, I grab my cut from the bottom of the bed and head back downstairs. I’ve barely filled the coffee machine in the tiny kitchen before Cas is strutting in, taking a seat at the table.

  “You good, brother?” he asks, thinking I want to chit-chat.

  “I caught that fed sniffing around at the gate not fifteen minutes ago,” I tell him, putting him on alert.

  “And?”

  “And I did what you said. I entertained him, and it’s not really to do with India. He’s suspicious about all our ‘car accidents.’”

  He takes a deep breath. “It was bound to catch up to us sooner or later. What vibe did you get from him?”

  “That he isn’t going to let this go. He has no intention of leaving town anytime soon.”

  “Shit,” he growls, running his hand over his hair. “This is all we need right now.”

  We’ve never had trouble with the feds banging down our door or crawling up our asses before, so we’ve certainly got our work cut out for us now.

  “When there’s one, there’s more. They’re like fucking cockroaches.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask, pouring us a coffee as the machine beeps it’s ready.

  I join him at the table, feeling better to have something to focus on again.

  “Who the fuck knows. It’s going to make this meet at Hank’s harder than it has to be. The last thing we need is to be watched while we deal with whoever the fuck has a problem with us now.”

  “As long as no shit kicks off, we should be okay.”

  “For all we know, this fed might’ve followed them to town and caught wind of us?” he hedges. But even he knows, just as I do, it’s not likely.

  “What we do know is that he’s got a boner for us. Do you want me to look into him?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want any searches coming back to bite us on the ass, you hear me?”

  Loud and clear. Like I need to be fucking told. “I’ll get on it in a minute. First, I want to thank you for looking after my cut. I just needed…”

  Holding up his hand, he rises from his chair. “Whatever you need, you got it. But you never have to say thank you for it.”

  “Brothers, always.”

  “Lost Souls till we die.”

  Zachery

  We’re all in the back room, listening to Dad fill us in on the fed’s appearance at the ass crack of dawn.

  “Where was the prospect? He should’ve seen him coming and told one of us,” Pope snaps from the end of the table.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Cas agrees. “I think it’s safe to say he’s not going to make the cut. We should kick his ass out of here, seeing as we’ve got enough to deal with.”

  Sitting forward, I cross my arms and rest them on the table. “Or we don’t?”

  Brothers pin their glares on me, so I carry on. “He’s been prospecting for how long? Well over a year, right? And he’s not once asked any of us how much longer he’s got on probation. Like he’s content to be our bitch.”

  JJ, lighting a cigarette, inhales, then blows the smoke out into the air before saying, “I agree with Zach. Either the kid’s not right in the head, or that’s what he wants us to believe. Why wasn’t he at his post this morning? He was out in the bar when we came in.”

  “This is bullshit! Never have we had someone play us and slide in right under our noses. Fuck kicking his ass out, we should bury it!” Pope roars, slamming his hand down on the table.

  “Hold on,” Cas implores, trying to bring down the tension. “We’re all agreed the kid isn’t making the cut, but with that fed lingering around, we can’t touch him. For all we know, he’s here because Kyle brought him here. I say we keep him around and don’t let on that we’re watching him like a hawk.”

  “Or we could hint to him he’ll soon be patching in. You know, see how he reacts,” I suggest.

  Nodding, Cas agrees. “Fine. But don’t make shit obvious. As for today, Kyle isn’t to overhear anything that goes down. And once we’re in town, I want everyone on top fucking form. The fed could be watching, so let’s not give him anything to jizz over.”

  Cas brings the gavel down, and everyone begins to file out of the room.

  “Zach, hang back.”

  Dad doesn’t move from his seat as I sit back down, waiting for Cas to close the door behind him.

  “What’s up?”

  “How’s my grandson?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  “He’s good. He’ll be staying here with Nina while we’re gone.”

  “Good, good. Listen, trouble’s coming for the club from all directions, and I want you to promise me that if I have to do something, you won’t be a hero and try to change shit.”

  “What the fuck are talking about? What will you have to do?”

  His eyes don’t stray from mine. His shoulders don’t tense, and his jaw isn’t set tight like I’m used to seeing it. He’s calm, and it’s disconcerting.

  “For now, I’m going to look into the fed. But no doubt, when the shit really begins to pour over us, there are going to be certain things we might not be able to walk away from. When it comes to India, you, your mom… Fuck. I’m not going to let any more pain bleed into our family.

  I still don’t understand. He’s talking in riddles, and it’s pissing me off.

  “What are you going to do, Dad?” I demand.

  “Whatever I have to to keep the feds away from us. Now promise me, you’re not going to jump in, thinking you’re saving me.”

  I push up and out of my chair. I’ve had enough. “Bullshit. I’m not promising any such thing. You pull any shit that takes you away from me, I’ll be there, right behind you. Fuck that. I’ll be right at your side.”

  I storm out of the back room and head straight for the main house. I need to lay eyes on my girl and my son.

  It’s not until I see them sitting in the living room that it hits me.

  Shit.

  Is Dad thinking of taking the fall for what happened to India or something? No, he can’t do that.

  Shaking the thoughts away, I listen to the old ladies chatting away in the kitchen as I sit by my girl, inhaling her freshly showered scent.

  Everyone’s getting ready to leave while I’m still sitting with Nina and Sebastian in the living room over at the main house. He’s once again sleeping soundly, this time against my chest, with Nina curled up beside me.

  “I have to go soon,” I murmur down at her.

  “I know. At least you know what our son will be doing until you get back,” she says, giving me a playful smile.

  She’s not wrong. I’m starting to think the amount of weed I smoked before I got her pregnant is the reason he’s so chill. My swimmers must have just strolled up to her egg at their own leisure.

  Running her finger down the side of my stubble, my dick springs to life at her touch, and I inhale deeply. Now is not the time.

  “I really have to go now,” I say.

  Sitting forward, I pass her the baby, jumping up before it shows, and grab my phone off the table.

  Leaning over the couch, bracing one
hand above her head, I kiss her goodbye, and head out into the warm sun.

  As I walk to my bike, I groan when I see Dad walking toward me. I have zero energy to deal with him again. Only, he thrusts an envelope at my chest. Grabbing it, I see it’s addressed to my mom.

  “Give this to her the next time you see her.”

  “Because?”

  Why can’t he do it himself? We have a mailbox if he doesn’t want to see her directly.

  “Because I asked you to, son.”

  With a sigh, he heads for his bike. While I’m gutted over their impending divorce, I’m relieved to see him back where he belongs—on his bike, and wearing his cut.

  Cas is first to ride out, and our formation comes together tightly as we ride through the gates, leaving three prospects to close them, allowing no fucker through until we return.

  I don’t think about what’s to come from this meet at the diner, nor do I think about where my mom’s going to run off to. I think about the future, and how it should play out for Nina and me. She’s had my kid, we have the house, so it seems the next logical thing to do is to get married. It was always in the cards for us, but neither of us wanted to rush into anything formal. We knew how we felt, and we knew it was forever—apart from my sorry excuse of an ass the last couple of months—and we knew where we stood with each other.

  I don’t want her having a different name than our son. We’re a family, and I should make her a McCarthy before the year is out. I doubt she’ll want anything fancy, as she’s not the type to enjoy the fanfare. But if it’s fancy she wants, it’s fancy she’ll get.

  The diner comes into view, and nothing is out of the ordinary. Brothers, without making it obvious, keep their eyes peeled for the feds or anyone else coming for us. No other bikes are parked up, and from what our watchers have reported back to Cas, no one has shown up and taken up places to attack from any vantage points.

  Our engines must have the diner rattling. When we’re all parked, we start moving about and head inside. Hank’s eyes widen as he takes us in, but he soon gets over it and calls out, “If you want to order something, come to the counter. There’s far too many of you for me to get around.”

  Lazy bastard.

  I don’t want anything. I sit at one of the tables, ignoring the regular customers staring our way.

  We’ve already been warned not to start trouble, and while we’ve agreed, it isn’t set in stone that we won’t stand back if certain situations arise out of our control, which is definitely something we should be doing with a fed lurking around in the fucking shadows.

  Thirty fucking minutes past noon, the fucker finally decides to show his face. Three vans pull up and park in whatever spots they can find by our bikes out front, but only one door opens, and only one man jumps out.

  He’s got to be in his sixties at least. The height and belly on him tells us he used to be the size of a brick house in his day, but his hair’s completely grey, his face marred with wrinkles, and a pair of heavy-set eyes.

  “Here we go, brothers,” Cas murmurs.

  Leo sits beside Cas, while Sparky sits by Dad. Others have taken seats spotted around the room, leaving no mistake that we’re here, and we don’t want too many more people coming in and sitting the middle of us.

  The guy swings open the door and walks in with his head held high, and a cocky grin on his face. He gives zero fucks about walking into the middle of the enemy, or he has a death wish.

  Cas kicks out a chair at his table, and the old fucker struts over and plonks himself down with a contented sigh.

  “Before I introduce myself, let me explain. If I don’t walk out of here, I have men ready to attack the three prospects on your gate and everyone inside your clubhouse. We’ll also release the pig we caught this morning.”

  My hands fist. Nina and my son are there, and I’m at least a twenty-minute ride away—that’s if I push hard. My head fills with images of Nina slumped on the floor like India was… Wait, I didn’t catch what he said about the fed. Did he say he’s got him? Before Cas can ask, the old guy’s opening his mouth again.

  “My name is Bert Benson, and I’m in town looking for the one responsible for killing my son.”

  Brothers keep their mouths shut, apart from Pope, who snorts, laughing to himself. This guy could be looking for any one of us, depending on who his son is. My first thought is this is Ellis’s father, but that can’t be right. He was taken out a long time ago.

  “Why do you think we’re responsible?” Cas asks him.

  “I don’t think, I know. It was one of you, and you’re going to hand the person over to me, or you’ll all have to pay the price.”

  “Who are you even talking about?” Sparky asks.

  “Twenty years ago, my son became president of the Devil’s Bastards motorcycle club, and twenty years ago, one of you killed him.”

  Half the brothers look confused, but the other half know exactly who this guy’s talking about.

  “Your son was Danny?” Cas says.

  “Yes. You see, I was the VP of the Kings of Blood MC, and Danny patched in. Some trouble kicked off, he vanished, and I was sent to prison. While I kept my head down, serving my time, I got word he had joined another MC. I kept tabs on him for a while, and then he went off the grid again. The next time I hear about him, it’s some fuck telling me the Lost Souls had taken him to ground—him, his brothers, and his sister. While I don’t care for them, it’s out of principle for me now. You hear me?”

  “I hear the words coming from your mouth, but you’ve been misinformed. We know who you’re talking about, but we don’t have their blood on our hands,” Cas says tightly.

  The old guy taps the table with his index finger, over and over, his agitation clear through his movements, yet his face remains calm.

  “This is a shame. This could have played out so differently, but I suppose I already knew you wouldn’t outright own what you did to my boy.”

  He pulls himself up, not caring as he shows his physical weaknesses. Wobbling on his feet, he leans on the table to steady himself.

  “I will find out who killed him. Not today, by the looks of it, no. You’ve shown me no kindness for my loss, but I will show some to you by giving you, free of charge, a golden piece of information.”

  Cas, too, stands, towering over the old guy by half a foot, and leans down, getting in his face.

  “And what would that be?” he asks.

  The old guy looks around the brothers slowly, taking in each one of us, and smirks.

  “You have a rat amongst you. Someone wearing your patch is a dirty fucking snitch. Believe me or don’t, I don’t care. But if you ignore what I’m giving you, you’ll all end up in prison like I did, and you won’t see it coming. I’ll never get my revenge, and I can’t have that, hence why I’ve got the fed holed up. Nothing will get in my way.”

  A buzz of whispered murmurs flow through the brothers, everyone looking at the other. I stare at the old guy as Cas glares at him. Then, the old guy has the audacity to slap Cas’s shoulder as he goes to leave. No one tries to stop him—no one even moves. Cas watches him go out the door and across the parking lot until he climbs into his van. A bomb’s been dropped, and even though it hasn’t figuratively exploded, his nugget of information is lacing its way through the club, settling wrong.

  “I want everyone back at the club.”

  I take the opportunity to head out first, and with Leo, we ride to my mom’s so I can drop Dad’s letter to her. She holds it like it’s going to go up in flames, but I don’t have time to stay, because we need to be at the club.

  We both ride fast, keeping our eyes open for Bert and his guys. We manage to catch up to our brothers before they turn off for the club.

  Leo rides faster, slipping in behind my dad, and I ride up behind Pope. If Cas noticed our absence, he doesn’t say anything when we’re parked up and being instructed to get our asses into the bar.

  “All prospects, get the fuck out of here!” he ye
lls, walking into the middle of the bar. Once it’s cleared, he begins to pace.

  Brothers, me included, take seats where we can find them, while Sparky and Pope remain standing, both with their arms crossed over their chests.

  “Surely you don’t believe him, Cas?” Ricky questions, adding, “We know our brothers. We don’t have a rat.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Mason pipes in.

  “There’s been a fed sniffing around, though. We can’t ignore that. In the history of this club, we’ve never had one visit from them,” Pope announces, and Mason sits back down.

  Many sets of eyes dart from brother to brother, and the silent accusations begin.

  “Stop that. Every brother here has been vetted hard, or are we saying Slade hasn’t been doing his job properly all these years?” Sparky hollers, stepping up beside Cas.

  “Being a rat doesn’t come up in a search, though, does it?” Dad says quietly.

  “So you’re saying, between us all, we’ve patched in a rat? I don’t fucking think so,” Sparky huffs, his face turning red with anger.

  “The prospects. It has to be Kyle. Shit, we had our suspicions this morning about him,” a brother in the back calls out.

  Everyone’s attention turns to Cas. “It could be any one of the prospects. We all heard him. He’s been planning this for twenty years. He could’ve easily hired someone to join us and feed him information, even to the feds.”

  “We believe him, then?”

  “We’d be stupid not to at least look into it,” Cas snaps.

  “This is bullshit. Danny was killed twenty years ago. You’re choosing to believe his father, which means brothers will be scrutinized, but not all brothers. You’re forgetting most of the brothers that have joined in the last—oh, I don’t know, two to six years?—have been sons of brothers. So what you’re really saying is, the brothers who have been here the same or longer will be the ones at the top of the list?” a brother calls out from the back of the bar. I don’t see who says it, but I see Cas’s jaw tense.