Page 52

Reaper

This fucker wasn’t happy unless he was yelling at someone. Good thing for him he knew not to yell at Delany because I would have fucking slit his throat right then and there.

Still, it was funny to watch the woman hand him his balls.

Nice to know she had a spine made of gold, because she was going to need it in the coming months.

Taking a seat in his posh boardroom, I said, “So. Here you have a woman with no idea where she came from.”

Malice stepped forward and growled.

Narrowing his eyes, Montana asked, “Where the fuck did you hear that?”

“Around,” I muttered, looking at my phone. “Say the word and I’ll get Sypher on it. Kid will find out where she came from by the end of the week.”

“No,” Malice sneered.

“We have it handled,” the uncooperative man said, sitting back in his chair as if he had everything under control. Could have told him that shit was going to hit the fan, but I figured why spoil the surprise for him.

“Now, about Graves.”

“What about him?” I asked, bored already.

“Aren’t you curious about what he has on you?”

“Nope.” I smiled, looking at him. “Unlike you, I don’t give a fuck.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t have skeletons walking out of the closet faster than I can shut the door. If you’re not careful, Montana, the sins of your father are going to bite you in the ass.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your pops and his association with the Society . The very entity we worked to bring down. Then there is the matter of his alliance with a man named Devlin Scott.”

“Excuse me?” Mercy asked, sitting up as he looked at Malice, who hadn’t moved from his spot. “Gonna need you to explain that, Reaper, and fast.”

“I thought you knew.” I frowned, sitting up and placing my hands on the table. “George Stone was a silent partner in the Trick Pony. In fact, he was the one who told Devlin Scott to sell his daughter, Ivy, to Toxic, a former member of my club.”

Malice growled, storming out of the boardroom.

“Shit,” Montana cursed, hanging his head.

“I’ll go after him,” Torment offered, getting up and following.

As soon as Torment left the room, I added, “Been where you are now, Montana. It’s not easy holding everything together when you don’t know what’s coming.”

“But you do?” he asked. “You know what’s coming?”

“Some, but not all,” I admitted.

“What’s it gonna cost me?”

When I stayed silent, Vicious leaned forward, shook his head and sighed. “Me. He wants me.”

“It’s time to come home, brother,” I clearly spoke when Fury and Storm looked at Vicious before slowly sliding their chairs away from him. Until I got Montana on the same page as me, no one was safe, and I would burn in hell before I let another one of my brothers get caught in the crossfire.

“My life is here now, Reaper. Linsey is happy. The girls are in school. I can’t just up and leave.”

“Never said you had to,” I whispered, looking at my brother. Vicious may wear the brand of a Soulless Sinner now, but at his core, he was still Golden and would be until the day he died.

“I’ve made a home here with the Soulless Sinners.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you asking of me?”

“A first in motorcycle club history. Something no one has ever done,” I offered, already knowing that Montana would reject the idea.

“And that is?”

“Dual club membership.”

“FUCK NO!” Montana roared, jumping to his feet. “Never gonna happen.”

“Montana, let Reaper finish,” Mercy placated, trying to calm the volatile man down.

“Think of Vicious as an ambassador. An emissary of sorts, if you will. He would be persona non grata. Untouchable. He would be the liaison between both clubs.” I grinned, then said the one fucking thing that would get the fucker’s blood boiling red hot, “Think of Vicious as the voice of reason.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now! You’ve been talking with Reaper behind my back!”

“Nope,” Vicious said flatly, looking around the room. “Wasn’t me.”

“Then who the fuck was it?”

“Me.”

Now it was my turn to fucking shout, but I never got the chance.

“THAT’S IT!” Montana roared.

Going for his weapon, he frowned, patting down his body. Turning to his VP, he snarled, “Where the fuck are my guns?”

“Took them off you at the Gentlemen’s Club.”

“I’m ordering you to shoot that kid!”

Bullseye slowly turned to Montana and growled, “You do, and I will fucking kill you myself.”

Mercy groaned, glaring at Bullseye. “Will you stop? You’re not helping. I can handle Montana.”

“Apparently about as well as I can handle Reaper,” Bullseye deadpanned, shaking his head.

Getting to my feet, I roared, pointing at Montana, “YO! Loudmouth. Shut the fuck up!” Turning to Sypher, I sneered, he gulped, taking a step back. “Boy, you better have a damn good fucking reason for being here. Didn’t that loudmouthed pussy over there threaten to fucking kill you if you ever stepped foot in his shitty ass club again?”

“It wasn’t just him, Reaper,” another kid no older than Sypher said, walking up to stand right next to him. “We knew this was the only way to get you both in the same room.”

“What the fuck is he talking about, Sypher? I’m here because that piece of shit over there let one of his boy scouts marry a Golden Legacy without my permission!”

“That’s the least of your worries.”

“Pippen’s right, Reaper,” Sypher quickly said. “Trouble is coming.”

“Why is it when they say shit like that, I get scared,” I vaguely heard Massacre whisper.

“We all do,” Fury, the Soulless Sinners’ Sergeant at Arms, replied.

Growling, I took a step toward Sypher and the kid started speaking fast.

“You know my brother Ace works for Harbor Security. They are working with the FBI, going over all the files they found at the Trick Pony. The Bureau even contracted Harbor Security to help find all the members of the club to bring them to justice. Well, Ace was in charge of compiling all the data. It’s a lot.”

“Really a lot,” Pippen added.

“I’ve been helping Ace in my spare time. Helping him to sort through everything and to locate the members. Well, while doing that, I found something that affects both clubs.”

“Not just both clubs. Everyone,” Pippen added, looking at Montana. “You know that file I found the other day? The one that didn’t make any sense. Well, now it does. It’s all connected.”

“There’s more, Reaper. When Ace went to investigate, he disappeared. He’s gone. Vanished.”

“What the fuck do you mean, vanished?” Bullseye asked, getting to his feet.

Ace wasn’t just Sypher’s older brother. He was the first-born son of Moonshine and Roxy, the former president of the Tennessee Chapter of the Golden Skulls. While Ace chose a military life over club life, everyone, including me, considered him family.

“I mean, my brother has disappeared. Law is losing his shit. The rest of Harbor Security is searching, but they can’t find him. All they know is that the data file Ace was working on is also gone and the FBI is waiting on a warrant to raid Harbor Security and arrest them for interfering in a federal investigation.”

I watched as Bullseye reached for his phone, probably calling Trout or Chipper. Mercy already had his phone to his ear as he got up and walked away from the table.

Rounding the table, Montana came to stand next to me. “When did this happen?”

“Twenty-four hours ago,” Sypher admitted.

“I’ve met Ace,” Montana said, looking at me. “He wouldn’t leave his brothers stranded.”

“You’re right.” I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve known Ace since we were kids when our dads ran the Golden Skulls. Ace isn’t a runner.”

“Just got off the phone with Savage,” Bullseye stated, walking over. “Trout and Chipper are gone. I texted Phantom to start digging.”

Mercy interrupted, “Phones are disconnected at Harbor Security.”

“Shit,” Bullseye cursed, looking at his phone.

“What?” Montana and I asked at the same time.

Looking at me, Bullseye whispered, “Ravage is gone, too.”

“Goddammit!” I cursed, turning to Sypher, grabbing the kid by the scruff of his shirt. “Start spilling, now. What the fuck did you find?”

“It’s all a lie.”

“What is?” Montana sneered.

When neither man spoke, Montana grabbed Pippen. “SPEAK!”

“The Original Seven didn’t start the Golden Skulls!” Pippen shouted.

“Gregory Stone did!” Sypher added, staring at Montana.

Releasing Sypher, I stepped back, shaking my head. “What the fuck are you two talking about? Xavier Goldman started the Golden Skulls, along with William Doherty and five other asshats after they returned from the Vietnam War. It’s in the fucking charter. That’s fact.”

“It’s a lie, Reaper. I swear,” Sypher gasped. “Ace found information at the Trick Pony that it was Gregory Stone who started the Golden Skulls. That’s when he reached out to me. Pippen and I have been going over everything, and it’s true.”

“Bullshit,” I dismissed, refusing to believe it. “I don’t believe you.”

“This is ludicrous,” Montana snarked, shaking his head. “My great-grandfather didn’t start the fucking Golden Skulls. He never even lived in California. He was born and raised in the Midwest. Nebraska, to be exact, before he moved to New York City long before the fucking war started.”

“Lincoln, Nebraska, to be precise,” Sypher stated firmly. “Gregory Stone was twenty-nine when he moved to the Big Apple. Ancestry documents prove that. He moved because he was running for his life. Reaper, the Golden Skulls didn’t start in Purgatory. They began in Lincoln, Nebraska, and I can prove it. Something happened, and Gregory Stone was kicked from the club with a bounty on his head. When he ran, he vowed, one way or another, to make the men who stole his club from him pay. That’s why he created the Soulless Sinners and aligned himself with the Romano Family.”

Shaking my head, I refused to believe this crap.

There was no fucking way my legacy was a fucking lie.

“There’s more, too,” Pippen cautiously added.

“Of course there is,” Montana sighed, taking a seat as he looked at me. “Do you honestly believe this crap?”

Shaking my head, I growled, “Fuck no.”

“Well, then maybe this will help,” Sypher began. “In the mountains of files Ace had me go through, he found out that Devlin Scott had a fucking half-brother. Does the name Steven Hartley ring a bell?”

Montana’s head snapped up. “Popeye?”

“Yes,” Sypher confirmed. “Steven Hartley was instrumental to George Stone. He knew all of his secrets. But the big one, the reason Popeye is gone, is because George was blackmailing him to keep quiet, because George needed Malice off kilter. He needed Malice on a hair-trigger because he knew if Malice ever found out that he had a hand in the abuse Malice received at the Trick Pony, Malice would kill the fucker, sever his ties to the Soulless Sinners, and run back to Crispin Sinclair. And just so you both know, before the FEDs stormed the Trick Pony, someone accessed the club’s database and downloaded everything. Someone out there knows everything Pippen and I know.”

I looked at Montana and we both muttered, “Graves.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill that motherfucker!” Montana sneered.

Leaning forward in my chair, I asked, “How do you want to handle this clusterfuck? Because regardless of what’s in those files, I’m not giving up my club.”

“Don’t want your club. I’ve got enough problems already.”

“Well, I hate to pile on...” a familiar voice declared, leaning against the door.

Bullseye slowly got to his feet when Massacre cursed.

Slowly turning in my seat, I stared at the one man who’d had my back from the very beginning.

The one person who knew me the best.

The one person I knew would never fucking betray me.

Smirking, I shook my head.

“You picked a fine fucking time to show up, Ghost.”

“You know me.” My best friend grinned. “I do like to make an entrance.”

“Why are you here, Ghost?” I asked curiously.

“Have an ace up my sleeve so I thought I’d let you know I’m holding a Golden Flush,” he said cryptically. Looking at the man I’d known damn near my whole life, I fucking knew that bastard didn’t play poker and that’s when I realized what he just said.

Grinning, I asked, “Just the one card or the full deck?”

Ghost smirked. “You know me. I play to win.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Montana griped. “You two can fucking hug it out later. We’ve got bigger problems, like this shit about our two clubs.”

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. “Are you deaf? I’m not giving you my club.”

“I don’t want it!” the man shouted. “Got enough trouble already besides taking on your little pissant boys club. I don’t care what the nerds found. Keep your damn club and get the hell out of mine!”

He was seriously pissing me off.

Looking at the fucker, I growled, “Everyone. Out. Now.”

My brothers moved, leaving the room, along with a few of the Soulless Sinners. The only one who remained was Mercy, who stood next to Montana when the asshole nodded.

Walking past me, Mercy stopped and groaned, “Play nice.”

“No promises,” I replied, never taking my eyes off fucknuts.

Enough was enough.

Montana was about to have a come-to-Jesus moment.