by Trent Jordan
But he wanted to get me to safety.
Well, he was going to get his way in one regard.
I had to get out of this house. I wanted nothing to do with it. Even when the blood was cleaned, the bodies were removed, and the debris was cleared, I would still remember it. This night and this house would haunt me for some time.
Would I go to Albuquerque? Or Oregon? Or New York City? It was too early to say.
But I had nothing left for me here now. That may have been true before, but with my father gone forever, it was even truer than it had been. I’d sell the home and tell the buyers they could do whatever they wanted with it. The only upside was that I’d make a few million on the sale, and I’d never have to worry about money again. I could pursue my acting career with vigor.
But at the cost of my father’s life? At the cost of all of this bloodshed?
No, it wasn’t worth it.
Briefly, I considered just leaving right then and there. I considered just taking one of my father’s bikes or cars, going somewhere far away, and then moving on. But there was still work to be done here. I could not ruin my father’s legacy—whatever shred of it remained—by just bailing at the first opportunity I got.
I reached the stairs, took one last look at my father’s corpse, and sighed. Sorry, Dad. I’m sorry you never got the chance to learn. I’m sorry…
I hurried upstairs, closed my bedroom door, and for what I hoped was the last time in my life, got under the covers of my childhood bed and tried to fall asleep.
“Holy shit, this place is a fucking mess.”
At first, I thought those words had come from the deepest recesses of my mind, from a dream that I was slowly waking up to.
“Reapers really did a fucking number on this place, huh? We might be the only ones left in this club.”
But with each passing word, I came to recognize that the words had come not from my dream, but from two Fallen Saints that must have not been there the night before. The only ones left in the club... what else happened? What more did the Reapers do?
“Let’s find the boss. If he’s still alive, that is.”
I gulped. I did not recognize the voices of the two men. And knowing my father, if these were the typical types he recruited, there was no telling what they would do to me. Especially if and when they discovered my father was dead.
I got out of bed, rubbed my shoulder—Cole’s bandage and tourniquet had helped quite a bit—lightly walked across the hallway, and went into my father’s old room, finding a gun. I tucked it into my pants—I hoped not to have to use it. Sadly, I didn’t trust the Saints not to eat their own.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Colt, come and look at this fucking shit.”
A few seconds passed before Colt yelled, “Fucking hell!” They must have seen my father.
“Looks like the boss took it right in the gut,” the first man said. “Jesus Christ. This place…”
“Is ours for the taking?”
I had to take charge.
“Ahem.”
Colt and the first man looked up at me. At first, they looked surprised to see me.
“Lilly?” Colt said. “What the hell happened here?”
“What does it look like happened here?” I said. “The Reapers came in, a battle took place, and everyone you see is dead.”
“Christ almighty…”
“What are you two doing here?”
The two looked at each other like they expected the other to speak. Colt took the lead, but I could tell he was probably about to lie.
“We came in to see what happened,” he said, swallowing. “We got reports of the home being attacked, but we were defending the clubhouse, and... well, that place is gone too.”
“So everyone’s gone?”
Colt and the first man nodded.
“What are your names?”
“He’s Colt; I’m Jesse.”
“Jesse, Colt,” I said.
I intended to tell them to leave. I had first thought I’d just tell them to get the hell out so I could have the place to myself. I also didn’t trust that they wouldn’t start getting ideas with my father gone.
But then I remembered something. I had to manipulate them for something.
“I need this place cleaned up,” I said. “I’ll give you each five grand to have the entire place cleaned up by the end of the day.”
“Impossible,” Colt said.
“And besides, you don’t have that kind of money,” Jesse said. “Why should we be taking orders from you anyway? Your father was the one in charge.”
I tried my best not to gulp or show any fear. If I did, it didn’t matter what I said.
“My last name is Sartor, is it not?” I said with all the coldness in my heart from what had happened last night. “You said it yourself. My father was the one in charge. But he is dead. And so, if you haven’t noticed, is everyone else. If you stick around here, the Black Reapers will come for you and kill you.”
A look of awareness and realization crossed both of their faces.
“I am leaving here in short time for my own safety,” I said. “I am asking you a favor and compensating you for it well beyond anything you could ever get elsewhere. Five grand for each of you to clean up this place and make it spotless.”
“Show us the money,” Colt said, but he no longer sounded quite as confident or daring as before.
I went to my father’s room, dug through his closet, and found a safe with cash. It was locked by some bio-identification, with only two sets of thumbprints capable of opening it—my father’s and mine. I unlocked it, grabbed two bricks of hundreds, and came back, tossing them down the stairs toward Jesse and Colt.
“Consider that an upfront guarantee,” I said. “You’ll get the rest tonight if you can get this done before ten p.m.”
“You’re actually serious,” Jesse said, counting the money—about fifteen hundred bucks in total.
“There’s nothing left for us in this town,” I said. “If you’re smart, you’ll get the hell out of here once you’re done cleaning up. The Fallen Saints are no more. You should discard those cuts and burn them before you leave.”
“But your father—”
“Is gone,” I snapped. “I am doing what I can to make sure anyone still left gets to enjoy their life. That five grand will get you out of here. But I need you to clean up this place so I can get on with my life as well.”
Jesse and Colt looked to each other.
“We’ll get a truck and start cleaning up,” he said.
“See to it that you do,” I said. “I’m going out for a bit. And don’t think you can rob the place; my father knew how to protect what was his.”
In truth, I knew they’d probably make off with a few things, maybe some of the televisions, maybe some of the kitchen items, maybe some of the other luxuries in the house.
To be totally frank, I did not care. As long as the house remained standing, as long as the bodies were moved, as long as the blood was cleaned off, then I could still sell the property for enough money to retire off of. My financial worries for the rest of my life were likely no more.
But that was far from the same as saying the rest of my worries were over.
Colt and Jesse started dragging a couple of bodies to a van they had driven over. Seeing them starting to work, I walked outside, only now seeing that it was quite early, perhaps as early as shortly after seven a.m. These two had not begun their day so much as they thought they were ending it, but I had a feeling the promise of a couple extra grand would encourage them to stay up a little longer.
I started on my walk, heading down the very same road that Cole and his two allies had picked me up at. When that had happened, it was late at night, he had gone to do what he’d done last night, and I was in a very different space. Now, it felt like every detail was the opposite.
Instead of night, it was a new day. Instead of going to do something, Cole had left something. And instead of running from my past, I w
as mourning it. I was mourning the childhood I never had. I was mourning the father I never had, or only had for moments. I was mourning the certainty that life had once had.
I had no father. I had no father. I had no family left.
I had... I was about to say I had no support system. I certainly had no home, no phone, and no vehicle.
But there was one person who had supported me throughout everything.
I had pushed away that person last night out of necessity, and there was no guarantee that when I saw that person, I wouldn’t feel the same anger as before. But if there was anyone who could support me and stand by my side…
I knew where I had to go. I had to take the gamble.
I walked forward. I was not returning to the house today.
I was returning to Cole.
Cole
Although we were subdued as we left Lucius’ house, by the time I got back to the Black Reapers’ clubhouse, an all-out party had erupted.
People that never smiled, like Axle and Butch, were laughing like they were in college all over again. Club members were downing shots. Girls were streaming in, some of them looking like they had just woken up, but all of them gradually getting more and more festive. Even some of the girlfriends, the ones who usually avoided the parties, had stuck around and started celebrating.
Music blared loudly, and multiple chants of “Fuck the Saints! Fuck the Saints! Fuck the Saints!” erupted as people cheered. Club members who, when sober, wouldn’t so much as clap at something they liked danced like they were at Oktoberfest. For a place that, just hours before, had served as a bunker for loved ones of the Reapers, it had now become as rowdy as a Las Vegas nightclub.
But I couldn’t find it in myself to muster any sort of energy, any sort of celebration, any sort of enthusiasm for what was happening. Yeah, we’d won. We’d won our freedom, we’d won the town some safety, and we’d won our future. That was absolutely worth appreciation. But celebration?
Maybe Lane had reason to worry about me being involved with Lilly. It hadn’t stopped me from fighting her father to the death, but it stopped me from enjoying this moment. I recognized all too well that the fallout of everything did not begin and end with the man we killed, but was more like a ripple in a lake from a rock being thrown; it could extend to places that we could not even begin to think about.
And so, aside from one shot that I did with all of the officers, I found myself mostly standing against the wall, arms folded, watching the scene unfold with a sort of odd detachment. It felt wrong to celebrate what we had been fighting for over the span years. How fucked was that?
Some of the officers could tell I was feeling conflicted and kept their distance. A few of the newer club members tried to tell me to take a shot or do some drugs with them, but Phoenix pushed them away quickly. Eventually, and rightfully so, everyone stopped paying attention to me and kept their focus on those enjoying the moment.
Everyone but one person, that was.
Eventually, when I felt that the party had become enough of a shitshow that they would not notice my absence, I slipped out the front door. I didn’t know where I was going; I had no home right now. I supposed I would just get a motel room and figure out the rest, but—
“Cole.”
I stopped at my brother’s voice. I looked back and saw him walking to me, hands in his pockets.
“Cole, I—”
“I can’t right now, Lane,” I said. I bit my lip. “I’ll talk. But I can’t tonight. It’s too raw. Too exhausted. Too hurt.”
Lane opened his mouth, stopped himself, and exhaled.
“Where will you go?” he said. “Do you want to crash at my place? I’ll go to Angela’s.”
I shook my head.
“I need to be on my own,” I said. “I’ll just get a room at a motel.”
“Are you coming back?”
I nodded.
“I’ll open the shop for you all,” I said. “Nine in the morning, right?”
Lane nodded. That was all I needed, and I kept walking right to my bike, hopped on, and headed for the nearest motel. I paid thirty bucks for a dusty room that had bugs crawling around it, an old box television, and the smell of cigarette smoke.
But I was so exhausted, so worn down, so tired from everything that happened that I did not care. I fell asleep in my clothes, the smell of firearms, oil, and blood still all over me.
I woke up well before I normally would, around seven in the morning. I tried desperately to go back to sleep, but the minute that I woke up, my mind started sprinting.
Where was Lilly? Would she still be at her father’s house? Would she want to see me if so? Were there any Fallen Saints left? What would the fallout of last night be? How hard had the Black Reapers partied? What was the future of our clubs? How was Lane? What was the deal with his engagement talk with Angela? What, what... would, were, maybe, could…
The questions blurred together, and I knew that for as long as my mind was on a rush like this, there was no even trying to sleep, let alone actually falling asleep. I thought about showering, but I would just be putting back on my blood-stained, oil-stenched clothes all over again. I just decided to suck it up, head to Mama Sue’s for breakfast, and then go to the clubhouse.
I kept to myself at Mama Sue’s, eating in the corner of a restaurant. The experience was an all-too-familiar one thanks to my year in isolation away from society. I’d spent that year in exile spending nights and days alone, eating in restaurants without company, and thinking about everything. Little had I known that what I needed to do was the opposite—to get more involved, be more in touch with the local community, the better so that I would learn through experience, not through meditation.
But this morning, I wasn’t thinking. I was just killing time until I could get to Carter’s Auto Repair, open it on behalf of the Black Reapers, and try and keep operations going until some of the more robust members awoke from their alcoholic slumbers and could let me figure out what to do with my life.
What that would look like, though, I couldn’t really say.
I left behind thirty bucks in cash, even though my meal hadn’t cost more than twelve. Call it trying to get on karma’s good side or whatever; I just felt like making sure I left some good deed behind that couldn’t be considered cruel or dark to someone. I biked over to the shop, shielded my eyes from the sun, and opened the garage doors.
And there, already in the office, to my surprise, was my brother. We shared a look, and he stood up and walked outside to meet me.
“I thought you’d be passed out back in the clubhouse,” I said dryly.
Lane shook his head.
“I didn’t want to tell you this last night because of what you were going through,” he said. “But everything that you felt, I felt.”
Oh, shit.
“I thought killing Lucius and ending the Saints would be cause for celebration, but mostly, it’s just a massive relief,” he said. “When I put the bullet through his stomach, and I said, ‘that’s for Shannon!’ I felt relief for maybe three seconds. And then I thought, ‘But she’s not coming back.’ No one that is gone is coming back, you know?”
“I know,” I said. “I know all too well.”
We leaned against the side of the garage, waiting for customers to come in, but on a morning like this, in a small town like this, people were not exactly busting down the door with mechanical issues and oil changes to be had.
“I spoke with Angela about it,” he said. “She said that she’d made her peace with Shannon’s death once we became a couple. Last night didn’t do anything for her. I don’t fault anyone for celebrating, but for the two of us…”
“It’s different,” I said.
I sighed.
“I suppose at some point we’ll celebrate in our own way. Maybe have a quiet glass of wine somewhere. Maybe relish the fact that the Saints won’t be attacking our compound. Maybe appreciate the fact that peace can be had without looking over our shoulder.�
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“Or just enjoy the fact that we can enjoy the smaller things,” Lane said.
“Or the big ones,” I said, which stirred something to mind. “Speaking of, you dropped a bit of a bombshell last night. You said you were going to propose to Angela?”
Lane nodded, wearing a guilty smirk.
“I will eventually,” he said. “Now’s not the right time, though.”
“You mean right before you went into the deadliest battle of all wasn’t?”
Lane chuckled and groaned.
“I want to propose when the dust has settled a bit,” he said. “When emotions aren’t running high. My proposal needs to be about us. Not about the relief. You know?”
“I guess so.”
“And what about you?” he said. “Lilly’s still out there. Are you going to go for her?”
It was a nice thought, wasn’t it? The idea that after everything had fallen into place, the guns were laid down, and the evil was buried, two former enemies could come together in love and harmony. It was a grand idea.
But I didn’t even know if I’d ever see her again, let alone if I’d get to love her and be with her forever.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said. “I have some ideas.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
I chuckled.
“They’re just ideas,” I said. “But I think the Reapers need to reunite under the Black banner, not the Gray one. Dad didn’t create the Reapers MC, he created the Black Reapers MC. Maybe we have two chapters, one here and one in Ashton. Or maybe we just give up the Ashton location and go back to the way things were. We could also expand out to other cities, other states, even.”
“I mean, we’ll figure that out,” Lane said. “I’m more curious about what ideas you have for yourself.”
I opened my mouth to speak when I saw someone approaching.
But they weren’t in a vehicle. They weren’t even on a bike. They were on foot.
It was... her.
“I got one right now,” I said as Lilly, bandaged, exhausted, and smiling, walked toward me.