Page 12 of Gonzo’s Grudge (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Dreadnought, NC #1)

Loco replied, “Talked to Devyn and a friend who has an in with the feds. We show that Walsh’s rulings were bought, that Hampton corrupted the court.

That’s structural error. That’s level shit with huge fallout to all the cases, not just GJ.

Devyn files a motion to vacate judgment based on judicial bias and newly discovered evidence, then petitions for habeas with Brady violations from the DA’s office playing lapdog. ”

Burn nodded. “Exactly. But we need evidence not intel. These”—he tapped the photos—“are good for pressure. The receipt on a county card is better. The emails, better still. We need chain-of-custody for everything we intend to hand Devyn.”

“Parallel construction,” Loco added. “If we get something sketchy, we find a clean way to get it again.”

“Right,” Burn said. “So this is the plan: two tracks. Track one—dirty. We watch, we listen, we pull what we can to understand the shape of the monster. We pressure, we persuade, and we prevail. After which we take track two—clean. Paper trail requests. Open records. Procurement files. Vendor registrations. We use citizens’ groups and public records to build the connections all around Hampton. ”

Dippy raised his hand like a kid. “I can set up dummy taxpayer groups, corporations, the whole shebang. Fake addresses. Stagger the requests so we don’t spook.”

“Do it,” I commanded, feeling like we were making progress.

Shanks leaned in, eyes like knives. “What about the mistress? Darlene. She flips, Walsh crumbles.”

Burn tilted his head. “She’s scared. Husband’s got his own throat on the line with those loans.

Her HR file is clean but she’s got a brother with possession charges that disappeared like fog over a mountain.

Hampton touches everything he needs to touch to keep people quiet.

If we come at her, we come gentle. Or we wait until the feds warm the air and she wants to pick a side. ”

Peanut scratched at the corner of a tattoo. “What about city hall safe? Can we get access?”

“Camera on the corridor,” Burn said. “Keypad, not biometric. Night janitor belongs to us. We can get the time and codes. But going in is a bell you can’t un-ring once we make that move. If we do it, we better have a use for what we take.”

I looked at the gavel, at the years worn into the wood by a man who taught me patience when I wanted to swing first. “We don’t go in yet.”

A rumble of disagreement rolled, quick and dull. I lifted my chin. The room went quiet.

“Walsh will fold with the mistress and the receipts. Hampton is the one that keeps everything standing. We yank on the wrong wire and he rebuilds before Devyn can file. We pull this slow, and when we pull, the whole damn house comes down. That means proof, not rumor. That means boxes of contracts, not whispers at the bar.”

Pull slid a yellow legal pad into the center and clicked a pen. “Assignments.”

I nodded. “Shanks—inside protection for GJ stays top priority. I want eyes on him at all hours. If he moves, somebody knows how many times he shits. If he coughs, I want a report.”

Shanks jerked his chin, already there. “Got two lifers who owe me. He’ll eat in peace. He won’t shower alone. He won’t walk alone. He’ll be safe from all sides.”

“Good,” I said. “Burn—you run the dig. But do it like we got a judge watching us, because we do. No cowboy shit without asking me first.”

Burn smirked. “Define cowboy.”

“Anything you’d write me a note about later.”

He nodded once. “Copy.”

“Dippy,” I said, “set up the dummy groups. Teach Chains and Clutch how to ask for what we already know but need to prove. Touch base with Waverly. She knows people. Waverly will phrase the requests so they don’t tip our hand.”

“On it,” Dippy said, fingers already moving like he was typing on a ghost keyboard. He was a bit odd like that but the brother was smart as they came.

“Shanks,” I said. “You and Lead sit on Walsh. Calendars. Habits. Who he drinks with, where he parks, what nights he doesn’t go home. If he trashes a burner, I want the pieces.”

Tower cracked his neck. “He jogs two nights a week after dark around the Reservoir Trail. If he trips, I’ll be there to help him up.” He said it in a way that sounded helpful and felt like a threat.

“Not yet,” Burn said, eyes cutting sideways.

“Not yet,” I echoed. “Every move needs to be calculated.”

Burn slid a card across. “Elena Cruz. Dreadnought Ledger. She hates Hampton like a religion. He cut her newsroom’s budget in half when they ran a story on the missing flood funds. She’ll print if we can give her something she can verify without coming near us.”

Disciple tucked the card away. “I’ll invite her for coffee. Make her think it was her idea.”

“Dippy, loop in Malachi the prospect,” I said, “open records and procurement. Sutter’s office will stall. Play nice, then mean. If they say it’s too burdensome, you ask for the database export from their system. They don’t get to hand you scanned PDFs that take six months to redact.”

He smiled like a scalpel. “I’ll ask for the metadata. Malachi knows all that shit.”

“Good,” I said. I looked around the table, at the faces that would go to war with me and for me. “Everyone else, sit on your hands until we’ve got things in play. No breaking, entering, or setting fires—literal or otherwise—unless I say so.”

Shanks huffed. “You getting soft?”

I let the silence answer. Shanks’s grin died first.

“Nobody breathes a word outside this room,” I finished. “We put a leak in the wrong ear, and Hampton plugs it with someone’s career. Or neck.”

Burn slid one more sheet onto the table and tapped it.

“One more thing. Hampton’s got a second phone—kept in his safe at home when he’s not using it.

It’s only for talking to Walsh and the PI.

If we can mirror it, we get everything. But we’ll only get one shot and it’s gonna take Jake going in since he doesn’t have ink or rockers yet.

I doubt he’s made Hampton’s radar as a prospect yet. ”

I stared at the numbers, at the way a life can be reduced to digits that open doors. “We’re not ready. We mirror it when Devyn is ready to file and we can burn the town down before they know where the fire started.”

Burn rubbed his hands together. “So we slow cook him.”

“We starve him,” I said, voice going low. “Cut off the air he thinks he owns.”

The room vibrated with that energy only a greenlit plan can hold. It wasn’t bloodlust. Not anymore. This was purpose. Older. Meaner. Cleaner.

“Questions?” I asked.

Disciple spoke first. “You ready for the other shoe? Hampton won’t sit still. He’ll push back. You going to keep your temper when they play back?”

The truth tasted like copper. “I’m going to do whatever keeps my son breathing until we can set him free,” I said. “If that means swallowing rage, I’ll swallow. If that means spitting it, I’ll spit.”

Tower looked like he was measuring me for a verdict. “And the girl?”

I didn’t pretend not to know who she meant. The photograph on my dresser flickered in my head—Pop and me, young and laughing. “If I have to fuck her to fuck him, so be it.”

Jester let out a low whistle.

“Would I like her to not be part of this? Sure, she’s innocent. But that man looked my son in the eyes and gave him a life sentence. I can fuck his daughter and at least give it to her good. She’ll bounce back, I can’t say the same for GJ, can any of you?”

“Everything’s part of this,” Jester said, not harshly but not softly. “She is wrapped in it whether she knows it or not. In the end, she can blame her daddy dearest for his transgressions.”

“Unfortunately there are always casualties in war,” I stated before I let the gavel fall. “Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped. Brothers stood. The vault door opened to the living noise of the clubhouse—bottles clinking, a jukebox flipping from something angry to something older, tires squealing as a prospect learned too slow where not to park.

I stayed seated. Ran a palm over the gouges in Pop’s chair like they were Braille. “Loyalty at all costs,” I said to the wood. It replied back in silence.

Burn lingered, the last one at the door. “Gonzo,” he said, and I looked up. “One more thing I didn’t want to put on paper.”

I cocked a brow.

“Hampton’s housekeeper is his sister-in-law,” he said. “He treats her mean. If we need hands in the house, she might hold the door.”

I nodded once. “File her name under last resort . ”

He nodded back and left me with the gavel and the ghosts.

I walked out to the lot by myself. The night air tasted like rain that hadn’t decided to shower down just yet.

My hands wanted a fight. My head wanted a plan.

My heart—if I could call it that without laughing—wanted to hear a voice say my name like it had earlier in the week, soft and sure and more dangerous than any judge.

I thumbed my phone, typed and erased, typed and erased again.

I told myself I’d keep away until we had Walsh on his knees and Hampton coughing up money he couldn’t hide.

I told myself distance kept people alive.

I told myself all the lies men like me tell when they’re trying to do something right for once. Then I sent a text I shouldn’t have.

Back in town. Eat?

The dots came fast. Yes.

I stared at the single word like it might burn its way through the glass into my palm.

Twenty minutes, I replied. Door. Jacket.

Okay, she responded. Then, a simple but thoughtful: Be careful.

I smiled where no one could see. “Always,” I said to the empty lot, and swung my leg over the Harley-Davidson. Never replying back.

The engine ticked in rhythm. The road opened. Behind me, my brothers split into the night to face the task at hand or deal with their own shit at home. Ahead of me, a girl waited at a door with a jacket and a heart that didn’t know how to quit.

I wasn’t a kind man. I wasn’t a good one either. But I believed in loyalty at all costs. I’d pay it for my son. For my club. And God help me, guilt could eat at me until eternity, but I’d do whatever I had to even if it meant entangling an innocent woman in this mess.

The bitterness sat heavy on my soul. Hampton Stanley thought he owned this town, and Judge Walsh smiled like justice was a joke. They were about to learn what it felt like when the joke bit back.

We would dig. We would gather. We would build the case like a scaffold.

And then we would hang them with their own rope. And in the meantime, I would enjoy tasting the innocence of a woman tossed in a world she had never known.