Page 3

Montana

Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse, New York.

“He couldn’t just disappear into thin fucking air!” Ace shouted while he paced the room full of men and women, who all sat around trying to figure out what the hell the kid was up to. It had been three motherfucking days since the kid disappeared.

And no one knew shit.

As for me, well, I was another story, because I barely uttered a fucking word. I mean absolutely fucking nothing. I might as well have stuck my thumb up my ass for all the help I was giving at the moment, and not one of my fucking so-called brothers thought to ask if I was okay.

Fucking bastards.

Okay, I got it. Right now wasn’t technically about me. We needed to find Sypher, but holy fuck, I needed a fucking minute first. I was in some kind of fucking shock or something. Wasn’t every damn day I learned not only did I have a fucking daughter, but I was a grandpa as well.

A grandpa!

Me, at my age!

Yeah. Mind blown!

But hey, at least I didn’t fucking kill the messenger, and I was keeping a tight rein on my temper. So that had to count for something… right?

The second Reaper spilled the proverbial beans about Bella, I think my mind went into shutdown or something, because everything the annoying fuck said afterward was a fucking blur. I barely remembered the flight home and I sure as hell didn’t remember how the fuck we got to the clubhouse. What I did clearly remember was the asshole saying that my fucking cousin Josh knew and had been babysitting my daughter for the last several years.

Glaring at the motherfucker as he stood near the bar next to Fury, arms crossed over his chest while he looked everywhere but at me. My soon-to-be-dead cousin hadn’t offered a single word.

Not one fucking syllable. Which in itself spoke volumes because the son of a bitch always had something to say, particularly where I was concerned.

Fucker never shut up.

“Someone must know something,” Trout, Sypher and Ace’s brother said, looking about the room. “It’s not like Danny to abandon his family.”

“Because he wouldn’t,” Chipper, the other Franks brother groaned.

What bugged the shit out of me was what else I didn’t know. I knew there was more. There had to be. According to Reaper, my family’s closet doors were wide open now. All the secrets were spilling out. Which begged the question, what else didn’t I know? I couldn’t help with shit unless I fucking knew everything and who all the fucking players were. Looking at the men in the room, I wondered what other bombshells they were about to drop.

Getting to my feet, Mercy stiffened as I started pacing the room. I knew he was ready to lock me down in case I lost my shit. I wasn’t fucking stupid. I was the fucking wildcard. Always had been. No one really knew what I would do until I did it. I generally did whatever best suited me, but not this time. This time I had to think before I acted. Not a novel experience for me, just something I generally didn’t like doing.

I wasn’t an analytical thinker like Reaper.

I didn’t plot or plan. I didn’t sit around on my ass and think up scenarios of shit that could possibly happen and plot out my revenge. No. I acted on impulse. If someone fucked me over, I fucked them right back even harder. I never stopped and thought of the repercussions of my actions. I was the president of the largest motorcycle club in the world, repercussions never bothered me because I didn’t give a fuck. Still didn’t give a fuck, but now everything was different.

Generally, I took what I knew and acted in my club’s best interest. Typically, that meant whatever best suited me, but this time was different. Yes, I could walk away and let the Golden Skulls find Sypher all on their own, basically washing my hands of the fucking annoying club. On the flip side, my club was now forever blood linked to the Golden Skulls thanks to my granddaughter Emma, Reaper’s daughter.

The way I looked at it, I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.

There was no fucking way I came out of this clusterfuck on top.

So that meant only one thing.

If I was going down, I was damn sure taking everyone with me.

Misery loved company, right?

It would not be easy working with a man I considered unstable, but even I fucking knew I couldn’t do this shit by myself.

The second Reaper and I landed in the city, we started putting out feelers for Sypher. After the first twenty-four hours, we knew we needed more help.

So we called everyone.

Even with all our contacts in the world, we had nothing.

It was as if the kid literally went POOF and fucking vanished.

No one knew where he was.

“What about our intern, Pippen?” Payne asked the room. “Have we located him?”

We were all grasping at straws. We were racing against the clock. The longer Sypher was missing, the more antsy the table would become. We knew it was only a matter of time before the table issued the kill order and then it wouldn’t matter. We were running out of time, fast.

“Not calling Pippen,” Reaper groaned, sitting next to Mercy and added, “Gave Sypher my word he would be safe.”

“But if Dante knows anything, we have to at least ask him, Reaper,” Ace stated, as Trout and Chipper nodded. “Dante would want to help.”

“I said no,” Reaper growled at Ace. “The kid is untouchable.”

“Sypher works for everyone in the underworld,” Matthew Law spoke up, trying to ease the tension between Ace and Reaper. “Anyone could be helping him.”

“Then I say we go knocking on some fucking doors,” Malice growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You said he was last seen leaving Sinclair’s house,” Fury stated, looking at Malice. “You know Sinclair the best, Malice. Why would Sypher go see him?”

Malice growled. “Because he asked for a meeting with us.”

I snarled, glaring at my enforcer. “Us?”

Malice groaned, shaking his head. “It’s not what you fucking think, asshole. Kid wanted me to make him forget.”

“Forget what?” I asked, looking at the man.

Malice looked directly at me and said, “Everything.”

“Tell me you didn’t, Gideon.” Torment sighed.

“I told him no,” Malice admitted. “Words were said and he fucking left angry. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Hold up.” Trout stepped forward. “Why would Danny want to forget everything?”

“To protect my secret,” said a beautiful blonde-haired woman. Dressed in black leather, with superb ink covering both her arms, she stood glaring about the room, along with one of my fucking Retirement Rejects, Popeye. The woman reminded me of a female Viking warrior and my gut was telling me she could definitely handle herself. The second her sky-blue eyes landed on mine, I stiffened as long forgotten memories of my childhood rushed forward while a familiar face I hadn’t seen since I was a teenager stood before me, and that’s when the mystery I had been trying to solve for years fell into place.

Malice gasped. “Thena?”

“Hello, Gideon.”

“YOU ARE THENA?!” I yelled while Reaper rolled his eyes.

Rounding on me, Reaper shouted loudly, “I am standing right next to you, asshole!”

Ignoring the fucker, I narrowed my eyes and glared at the lying conniving bitch when Reaper asked, “Val, do you know where Sypher is?”

So, this was Valhalla, the president of the Nyght Nymphs. The elusive all-female motorcycle club that preferred to stay off the radar and keep to themselves. Too bad for her, I fucking knew who she really was. Had I met her sooner, I probably would have figured this shit out quicker, but hey, better late than never, right?

“Where is the fucking kid?” I sneered.

“Why should I tell you?” Valhalla challenged. “From the very beginning, you’ve done everything in your power to fuel this fucking war. All Sypher wanted to do was end it.”

“Please,” Chipper spoke up, walking over to her. “I know you don’t know me. Danny’s my little brother. I don’t give a damn about anything else. Where is he?”

Val sighed. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. When he didn’t come back after the meeting with Sinclair and the others, we got worried. Popeye and I have been looking all over the city for him and came up with nothing.”

“Did he tell you his plan?” Reaper asked.

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it. He planned on using himself as bait to lure Pandora out into the open. Sypher believed if he could get close enough to Pandora, he could plant a tracker on her.”

“How the fuck is that going to help shit if that bitch kills him?” Ace yelled.

Sitting back down, Reaper whispered, “That sneaky son of a bitch.”

“Wanna let us in on what you figured out?” I snarked, tired of all this fucking cloak-and-dagger shit. Why couldn’t anyone just speak plainly and say what the fuck they mean? I did it all the fucking time. Didn’t want any misinterpretations before I fucking killed a motherfucker.

Looking up at me, Reaper simply said, “He’s sacrificing himself to save all of us.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snarked. “I don’t need him to save me.”

“Sypher fucking knew the only way to stop this fucking war was to force us to work together and systematically get rid of everyone connected to that cunt, before the table learned the truth.”

“What truth?” Mercy asked.

“But that didn’t work, did it? We still don’t know who’s all involved or where the fuck that bitch is at,” I groaned, then I finally caught on to what Reaper was saying. “Holy fuck. You know what that means, right? The first fucking thing the table will do is issue his kill order.”

“Exactly.” Reaper grinned. “Which will go out to everyone in the underworld. Including us.”

“And whoever takes the contract will reveal themselves.”

“YO! Thelma and Louise,” Ace shouted loudly. “You two bitches wanna let us all in on what the fuck is going on in those warped fucking heads of yours?”

“Sypher’s known all along who the guilty were. He’s been compiling a list since he got into the Trick Pony’s servers. By giving himself up, he’s forcing the guilty out into the open,” Reaper explained.

Picking up where Reaper left off, I added, “The kid knew by giving himself up, the table would order his death. Those guilty of colluding with the bitch would want him dead, because they would want to silence him before he revealed all their secrets.”

Looking at me, Reaper grinned. “It’s actually fucking brilliant when you think about it. Sypher has been a major player in the underworld since he was sixteen. He contracts for the table and damn near most of the Biker Federation. There isn’t a single fucking soul connected to the underworld that Sypher hasn’t investigated. The kid is a veritable encyclopedia of who’s who in the criminal underworld.”

“Add in his stellar fucking brain and sense of morality, it only makes sense he would do something stupid. I can’t believe we didn’t figure it out sooner. His dad was the same fucking way. Always did the right fucking thing.”

“And just like his father, Sypher will do anything to protect his family,” Reaper finished, turning to Val, who hadn’t moved an inch.

Walking over to the woman, he sighed. “Val, it’s time. You’ve been running your entire life. I know Sypher’s been helping you keep your secret, but we can’t save him if we don’t know everything. Why would Danny risk his own life for you?”

“He’s not,” I said as I stepped toward Val, who visibly paled and took a step back. “He’s doing it for my intern, isn’t he? I’m so fucking stupid. How could I miss it? I saw him every motherfucking day and never put two and two together. He’s the spitting image of him. Tell me I’m wrong?”

“Montana, don’t,” Val whispered, her eyes laced with fear.

“Who is Pippen’s father? And don’t you fucking tell me it’s Dakota, because I know it’s not him. My fucking idiot of a brother may be a sadistic sociopath, but he’s fucking sterile.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reaper asked, looking at me. “We already know your dick of a brother raped Thena and works for that fucking cunt.”

“He’s right, Montana,” Fury added. “Carly said as much when she dug into his past. You know this.”

Shaking my head, I never took my eyes off the woman. Had mad respect for Valhalla and her club, but she fucking knew I was telling the truth. I may not know everything, but I was quickly catching on to all these games. It was too fucking easy. Whoever was holding the strings wanted us to believe that Dakota was the father. So that meant he wasn’t. Thena Hartley, Valhalla or whatever fucking name she used, knew this too.

Shaking her head, she whispered, “I won’t tell you.”

Refusing to let up, I pressed on. “I know you weren’t raised at the Trick Pony.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Montana?” Malice sneered. “She was with us when we escaped!”

“That may be true, but she wasn’t born there. Tell them the truth, Meredith?”

All eyes turned to Valhalla when she gasped, and Popeye stepped up behind her protectively.

Yeah, I wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought. There was a lot I remembered and still shit I didn’t, but that didn’t negate the fact that I fucking knew the woman standing before me. It always bugged me how she and her club avoided anything biker related yet registered their club with the Federation. Now it all made sense. She needed to keep an eye on all of us. My club specifically. Or should I say one particular brother?

“Don’t do this, Montana,” she whispered.

“Why not?” I sneered. “You are the reason for this whole fucked-up mess. The time for secrets is over. Your club prides itself on protecting the innocent. Well, now is your chance. If you know something that can help us save Sypher, start talking. Because either you tell them, or I will. It makes no difference to me. But when this shit is over, you and I will have a fucking in-depth discussion woman. Got me?”

“What the hell is going on here?” Reaper snarled.

Scoffing, I shook my head and went to sit down. “Ask her.”

“You are still a fucking dick, you know that, Montana?” Val sneered.

Leaning back in my chair, I grinned. “Should have stayed hidden if you didn’t want anyone to know. Speaking of which, does he fucking know? Or have you been keeping secrets from him, too?”

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here and how it pertains to my fucking brother?” Ace snarked.

Popeye whispered, “It’s time, Val. Tell them.”

I watched the woman’s shoulders slump like an immense burden weighed heavily on her as she walked over to a table and sat. Leaning forward in the chair, she took a deep breath and began. “You’ve heard of the saying bad blood? Well, Edward Goldman took that shit to a whole new level. In the beginning, there were five of them. Brian Doherty, Frances Lombardo, White Wolf, Gregory Stone, and Edward Goldman. All from different backgrounds, but with one thing in common—they were all some of the first prisoners in Nebraska State Penitentiary.”

“Hold up,” Fury interrupted. “Carly found no evidence of prison time.”

“Because Sypher erased it.”

“Why?” Ace asked.

“To protect the innocent,” Val said, looking at Reaper who stiffened. “Like I was saying, each man was doing time for various petty crimes, except for Edward Goldman, who, at the time, was the youngest prisoner to be incarcerated. He was fifteen and sentenced to death for murdering his family and several accounts of rape. The man was seriously mentally ill, but back then there was no place to put him but in a prison. Because of his age, the four other men kind of protected him, especially Brian Doherty. In the early 1920s, the prison scheduled Edward to be the first person executed for his crimes when he started a riot, killing two guards and raping the warden’s wife. During the riot, Brian and the others escaped, taking Edward with them. For a few short years, they stayed under the radar, doing nefarious things for cash, but hit it big when prohibition hit the scene. The five men ran moonshine and other vices, like tobacco and drugs. But everything came to a fucking halt when Edward assaulted Brian’s youngest sister, Frances and left her for dead. However, when Frances died giving birth, he vowed to find Edward and kill him.”

“So it’s true then,” Fury muttered. “Carly was right. It was Edward who raped Frances.”

Valhalla nodded. “Yes. When I started medical school, I studied sociopathic and psychopathic tendencies extensively, concentrating on the genetic markers that showed predisposition.”

“Val,” Torment interjected, taking a seat. “Sociopathy and psychopathy are not genetic. That’s been disproven.”

Shaking his head, Malice spoke up, “That’s not necessarily true, brother. There was a study done in 2011 that stated 60-70% of psychopathy is genetic. The research examined identical twins with criminal biological fathers and showed they were prone to higher psychopathic personality traits, especially within males.”

“Yes, but if raised in a loving home, then those traits are non-existent.”

“Enough,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “You two can discuss the genetics of bat-shit crazy later. I’m waiting for her to get to the part where she tells you how my fucking intern is Bane’s son.”