The Club Betrayal: #8 Sons of Lost Souls MC series

by R. Hunter, Ellie

  “What’s going on there?”

  “He put a claim on her, and now she’s helping him out with Rayna.”

  “He did what? Why haven’t I heard about this until now?” she shrieks.

  I haven’t got the energy for an Alannah shitstorm right now.

  “You’re going to leave it alone, babe. He made the decision, and I want to see how it plays out. He’ll wear my patch one day, so he’s got to start making the right choices.”

  “She’s holding our granddaughter,” she argues back.

  “I didn’t say not to watch her,” I point out.

  She snarls at me.

  The poor girl doesn’t have a clue how fierce my old lady can be when it comes to family. She puts one foot wrong, I won’t have to deal with it. My wife will fuck her up.

  “I don’t need any more grief today, babe. Leo made his call for a reason. Let him do his thing.”

  “I’ll try,” she huffs, which makes me laugh.

  Her trying will be difficult for her, but nevertheless, I know she’ll do her best, and watch the girl like a hawk.

  “Where’s my other son? I haven’t laid eyes on him since Pope was taken away.”

  “He’s around. Last I saw, he was heading into the bar. How’s he getting on as a prospect?”

  I snort. “He’s getting away with doing fuck all. Most of the brothers are too wary of the little asshole.”

  “Just like his father was at that age.”

  Arching my brow, I grunt, “I’m still an asshole, darlin’.”

  Planting a kiss on her lips, I head off to the bar, looking for my son. Not finding him, I see Slade on his laptop at the bar, and I join Sparky, Dex, Ricky, JJ, and the twins at their table, where Mason and Myles are quick to get in my face.

  “Tell us you have a plan, Cas?” they say unison.

  Moving around them, I pull out a chair and exhale, taking the weight off my feet.

  “I put in a call to Banksy as soon as Pope left. We’ll wait till we hear from him and see what we’re up against in more detail.”

  “We already know what we’re dealing with. He was arrested for murdering a fed,” Myles voices.

  Walking over, Slade shoves the laptop in front of me.

  “This is the fed. The credentials he had were of the rat’s dad. If I had looked into him, I would’ve found he wasn’t who he said he was.”

  “Slade, you weren’t yourself then. No one blames you,” Sparks says, but one look at Slade, I know he’s not buying it.

  “Find me Luca,” I bark to no one in particular, and it’s Mason who gets up.

  I rub my forehead, wishing I could turn back time. There are so many things that could have been done differently, but there’s no use thinking on such things now.

  Standing, I tear my eyes away from the face of the fed on the laptop screen and find my son strutting into the bar toward me like he has zero fucks to give.

  Seeing him in his cut, as well as Leo, makes me proud. Both my sons following in my footsteps, wearing the patch I’ve fought for all these years.

  Leo was a given when he neared the age of eighteen. He was pretty vocal about his desire to earn the patch. Yet with Luca, I have no idea what goes through that boy’s head.

  He keeps his shit locked down tighter than I ever did. Today is different, though. Today I’ll start to crack him open to see what lies within. To see if he’s prospecting because he wants to, or because he feels he’s expected to.

  “What’s up?”

  Ignoring his flippant attitude, I ask, “Where have you been?”

  “Outside.” He shrugs, not giving up any specific details.

  Stepping closer to him, I tug on his cut and point to the prospect patch.

  “Does this mean anything to you?” I ask, holding his stare.

  “Yes.”

  “What? Tell me exactly what it means to you.”

  I’m aware the brothers are listening closely, but I block them out.

  “My life.”

  I nod, content with his answer, for now. “You’re going to prove it to me, and to everyone here. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to get me in to see Pope.”

  “Anything else?” the little shit asks, as if I haven’t already given him a task most would fail at.

  “That not enough for you, Luc?” Sparky laughs, voicing my thoughts.

  Rolling his eyes, he walks away, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. I don’t move until he’s out of sight, then turn to the brothers.

  “Is it me, or was he not affected at all having an order that difficult?” Ricky inquires, reaching for his beer.

  My pride for Luca grows at him not showing weakness, or blanching in front of the others.

  “He’s my son,” I retort, as if that should answer his question.

  With a cigarette dangling from between his lips, Sparky asks, “What’s plan B if he can’t get you in?”

  When Luca walks back in, I mutter, “I’ll guess we’ll find out.”

  “Be at the back door of the cop station at 3 a.m. You’ll have fifteen minutes with Pope.”

  For a moment, there’s not a brother, myself included, that isn’t stunned into silence, until Ricky stands, laughs, and slaps my boy on the back.

  “That was fast, prospect. I’m impressed.”

  I am too, but I keep that shit to myself.

  “How?” I question.

  “Does it matter? It’s done.”

  He’s going to tell me, but I can wait.

  “Be outside at 2 a.m. You’re coming with me.”

  “Sure. Is that all?”

  “For now.”

  He turns to leave, with the twins trailing behind him.

  “Rick? Make sure your boys don’t do anything stupid.”

  Now they know Luca has strings he can pull with whoever he called, I wouldn’t put it past them to form their own plan. Their plans are usually messy, and messy isn’t on my agenda today.

  Pushing up from the table, Ricky chases down his boys.

  Sparky lowers his voice, and says, “Rick’s their dad, but we all know it’s Pope who keeps those boys reined in. You’ve gotta be prepared to step down on them if need be.”

  I hear him, and I agree. I’ll step on anyone who puts a foot out of place until we know more.

  “Keep your eye on them. Anything that rings an alarm, you handle it.”

  “Sure. Apart from Luc, who are you taking with you tonight?”

  “Just me and Luca. It’s only an in and out, so I’ll be fine. I want to use the time away from everyone to see what really runs through my boy’s head.”

  He finds that amusing. “Good luck with that. The only one I see him even being remotely human to is Victoria, and even then, she’s constantly pushing him away.”

  “And I suppose you’re going to tell me why that is?”

  Barking out a laugh, he lights another cigarette and says, “Why the fuck would I know?”

  “Because you gossip as much as the old ladies.”

  “I love ya, but fuck you, brother.”

  For a split second, it feels good to fuck about and have a genuine reason to smile. It soon drops when I remember the shit we’re in, and I settle for biding my time until my meet with Pope.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Pope

  I’ve been sitting in this interview room for the last hour. Small town cops have no fucking idea what they’re doing, but I suppose it helps the club the longer this plays out.

  “This is ridiculous. They’re trying to make you sweat, which if they knew you, they’d know they’re wasting their time, and mine.”

  I’m in full Pope mode now, and I won’t be saying another word until I wish to speak, until it benefits the club.

  I focus on the clock up on the wall, watching the hands sweep around until the door opens forty minutes later.

  Two suits walk in, and I smell feds immediately.

  They introduce themselves as Agent Avery and Agent
Grey, but all I hear is Agent Cuntface and Agent Fuckhead.

  They’re a different breed compared to our cops, but it still doesn’t mean I’ll open up and help them do their jobs.

  “Pope, a member of the Lost Souls Motorcycle Club. Your file is surprisingly thin considering your way of life, yet here we are. You’re what, feeling like your days are up and you’d go out taking a federal agent with you?”

  Opening a file, Agent Fuckhead spreads numerous photographs out on the table. Images of the one and only Preston Knowles, beaten in a bathtub, fucked up, and in a hospital, hooked up to numerous machines.

  “He was beaten so severely, they couldn’t find his pulse. The local cops started a murder investigation, hence why we have these photos. But then he came around and gave them all a scare.”

  He speaks like I give a shit.

  “He came around four times, and each time, he choked out two words: Lost Souls,”

  Agent Cuntface chimes in, adding, “And then, you give yourself up, but you’ve yet to confess. Why?”

  I move my eyes from Cuntface to Fuckhead, both sitting there, expecting me to answer, thinking they’ll have an open and closed case because, like they said, I gave myself up. Oh, they’re going to learn how I roll.

  When I don’t speak, they turn their attention to Banksy.

  “Does your client intend to give his statement?”

  “My client…”

  I tune them out, picturing Sal sitting on the lone chair in the corner of the room, and she’s shaking her head.

  She’s smiling, like she knows how this is going to go down, pitying the agents for wasting their time.

  People say life is unpredictable, but they’re wrong. You’re born, you grow—everyone on a different path—yet all do what needs to be done every day to survive. Nothing is unpredictable, because you wake up every day expecting to do anything you must to survive.

  Question after question, pleas for my statement, I keep my mouth shut, and my face unwavering of any emotion.

  “You’ll be lucky if you get life in prison. You’re looking at the death penalty.”

  Their last card is to try and scare me.

  What’s there to be scared of? A death sentence isn’t a sentence for me. It’s a pathway to my girl—to my Sally.

  I know she’s waiting for me, wherever she is. Before she moved to Willow’s Peak for me, I fully believed I’d end up in Hell, but I know since she’s been gone, she’s been working on the big man. She’ll be there, waiting, with her arms open and her face glowing with happiness. She’s going to smell like summer sunshine, and the moisturiser cream she applied every night. I’m going to inhale that shit for all eternity. So yeah, a death sentence is no sentence at all, not for me.

  “Pope?”

  Snapping out of my thoughts, I find the agents are gone, and Banksy is leaning in far too close for my liking.

  “They’re going to continue in the morning. How do you want me to handle this?”

  I snort, finding him asking me how to do his own job amusing.

  Back in my cell, I settle in for the night, seeking out Sally. I have so many memories, but there aren’t enough.

  “I hope Sally’s cooking. I love Kyla, but she can’t cook to save her life. I don’t even know how that’s possible, being that Sally’s been cooking with her all this time.”

  I grunt and chuckle at the same time. I hope my woman is cooking too. I’m too hungry to lie and tell my daughter her food tastes good.

  As soon as we step into the house, I sniff the air. Not smelling anything burning, I sigh in relief. My woman is at the stove. It’s been a long week. I need a beer, good food, and to take my old lady home.

  “Hey, you’re back.” Kyla beams, being swept up into Ricky’s arms.

  Sally’s smile is as beautiful as ever. Planting a kiss on her lips, I collect a beer from the fridge.

  Falling into a chair at the table, I crack open the beer and take a long pull.

  “Oh, no, you’ve got some asses kicking to do,” Kyla snaps, pulling away from Ricky.

  “Who’s asses?” I don’t know why I asked. I know exactly who she’s talking about.

  Putting down my beer, I stand and ask, “Where are they?”

  “Out the back, probably cooking up more trouble.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They set off firecrackers in the cafeteria because they thought it would be funny.”

  Ricky’s laugh gains him a slap from Ky. I roll my eyes.

  “They’re eleven. How did they get their hands on them?” I question.

  “From the shed, where Rick put them, promising to get rid of them because we have two overly curious sons who think trouble is their middle names.”

  I find the little shits hunched together out by the shed. Seeing me coming, they straighten their backs.

  “Grumps, did Mom snitch on us?” Myles asks, speaking first, just as I expected him to.

  Mason is quieter than his brother, always letting Myles take the lead.

  “Sure as shit she did.”

  I sit on the old bench the twins tried to use for firewood. They wanted to see how long it would take to burn.

  “Talk me through it. What was your thought process? Start from the beginning. And remember, if you lie to me, you’ll only get the one chance to do it.”

  Stepping closer to Myles, Mason holds his chin high. “We watched Dad put them away. He didn’t get rid of them like Mom told him to, but she didn’t know that. So we thought if we got rid of them, she wouldn’t know. Yesterday, our teacher dared everyone not to laugh at us because we were class clowns, so we thought we’d give them something they couldn’t not laugh at. We won!”

  “Whose idea was it?”

  “It was both our idea. We thought of it at the same time.”

  Of course they did. I’m proud of my boys, and I love them beyond anything I thought my heart could hold, but they need to learn there are times and places for their antics.

  “Do you understand what you did could’ve hurt a lot of people?”

  They both nod, but I’m not sure if them understanding makes it worse. “What have I said about school?”

  “That we have to be on our best behaviour.”

  “Lighting firecrackers is your best behaviour?”

  “No, sir.”

  “There are times for your shenanigans, and school isn’t one. If you had hurt anyone today, the authorities would’ve taken you away from us. Would you like that?”

  They both shake their heads. “You wanna play with firecrackers, you come to me. You wanna shoot guns, you come to me. You wanna do anything you know will set your mom off, you come to me. Understood?

  “Yeah,” Mason mumbles, while Myles asks, “When we can ride our bikes again? Mom said no freaking way when we asked.”

  “Your mom thinks I’m out here kicking your asses, so we can’t go riding our bikes today, can we?”

  They both drop their heads, disappointed. “No.”

  “Now, I haven’t seen Grandma in a few days, and I’m done sitting out here when you both know better. So let’s go in and eat dinner, and then I’ll take you to the club where you’re going to polish every bike there.”

  Their displeasure makes me smile, and I get to my feet. “I hope you’re not moaning, boys. I’d hate to actually have to kick your asses.”

  “Yes, Grumps.”

  In the house, I point to the table. Taking their seats, they don’t murmur a word.

  “One day, Kyla is going to work out that you don’t actually punish them.”

  Cocking my brow, I smile at my woman.

  “I did punish them. They’re going to wash and polish everyone’s bikes at the club after they’ve eaten.”

  “They love bikes. How is that a punishment?”

  “Because they hate doing things for other people. And I did talk to them. From now on, they’ll be little fucking angels.”

  It’s her turn to arch her brow. “Well, mak
e sure they don’t try to ride the bikes when they’re done.”

  Pulling her against me, I press my lips to her forehead, inhaling her summer sunshine.

  “Come to the club with us after dinner. The boys have got to do their punishment, but I’m not ready to let you go so soon after getting back.”

  There’ll never be a day I’ll be ready to let her go. Never.

  “Pope? You awake?”

  Straining one eye open, I sit up straight when I see Cas leaning against the bars.

  “How did you get in here?”

  It’s risky, especially with the new sheriff out for our blood.

  “My boy got me fifteen minutes with you. Have you been interviewed yet?”

  Heaving my old ass off the cot, I walk over to the bars and nod. “Yeah. They’ve brought in feds, and they were the ones who questioned me. I said nothing, obviously.”

  “Like I’d doubt you, brother.”

  “They’re waiting on me to give my confession.”

  He straightens. “The twins are wanting to bust you out, and I have to say, Pope, right now, that’s our only option.”

  Hearing about my boys brings a smile to my face, but it doesn’t last long.

  “There’s another option, and none of you are going to like it. I’m going to confess and take the blame, and the club is going to let me.”

  His eyes widen, then narrow into slits. “Like fuck we are.”

  The first thing I saw in Cas was his darkness. It took a few weeks of him being around the club for me to witness the loyalty that shone from him after seeing what kind of life he could have with us, and it’s lasted all these years. I would follow this man into any fight and die for him if needed, because I know and trust he would take care of my family in my absence. I know my death would be remembered always. Lost Souls are never forgotten.

  "Without our support, you'll be on your own and vulnerable."

  "I'll be fine. Once I’m charged, make it look like I've lost my patch. They'll pull me in for another interview in the morning, where I'll confess in detail. The club won't fall for this. No one's touched us before, and they won't now."

  "I can't let you do this."