Part 8 (2/2)

When I should have felt a sense of joy and total relief, the only thing I felt was crus.h.i.+ng sadness. I'd lied to myself. One lie had led to another and then s...o...b..lled. I loved Roxanne. I don't mean I just loved f.u.c.king her or I liked her. f.u.c.k no. I loved her with my entire being. Her sweetness and kind nature had captured my attention and eventually my heart. My head said, No...just use her, but my heart was a complete a.s.shole.

Resting my chin against my shoulder, I inhaled deeply, the smell of her perfume still lingering on my s.h.i.+rt. As I closed my eyes, I thought of her face filled with laughter and the feel of her skin against mine. Falling backward, I let my body bounce on the edge of the bed before placing my elbows on my knees. Then I sat there like a dumba.s.s and stared at the wall.

A loud pounding at the door drew me out of my self-imposed Roxy funk. ”What?” I yelled, pus.h.i.+ng myself off the bed and moving toward the door.

”Are you coming out for a drink?” the prospect asked me. I couldn't remember his name, and I didn't try.

”Move,” I growled as I pushed past him, stalking toward the common area.

Glancing at the clock as I leaned against the bar, I realized I had sat in my room in a total haze for an hour. Two hours or less and this s.h.i.+t would be over.

”Tequila.” I held up two fingers, needing the one-two punch that could only be delivered by such quant.i.ties of Patrn.

The prospect placed two gla.s.ses on the bar and quickly filled them. Before he could walk away, I slammed one back and said, ”Another.”

Why do this s.h.i.+t sober? I could have a nice buzz by the time everything went down. Since they were sending me to jail with everyone else, I wouldn't have to handle a gun or read anyone their Miranda rights. The members of the club had been partying for hours, so I didn't see any reason why I should be the only sober one.

The minutes slowly ticked by as I thought about Roxanne and how my life was about to change. Sitting with the boys, drinking, and laughing were just a facade for the violent storm of emotions that were battling inside me.

I downed another shot of tequila before sipping a beer, feeling a sense of guilt for the children who would become fatherless. It wasn't my actions but theirs that would cause the eventual separation. When someone leads a life of crime, they take that risk. The women who loved them and had borne their children had known the eventuality of their incarceration when they had become their old ladies. The only people who didn't have a choice in the situation were the kids. They hadn't asked to be born into this life-they were the innocent victims.

I drank shot after shot, chasing each with the beer I nursed as I tried not to watch the clock. Time escaped me as my mind became fuzzy, my thoughts scattering as the liquor coursed through my veins.

I jumped from my chair as the doors slammed open. Screams erupted, women went scrambling, and chairs fell over as men stood and reached for their guns. Following their actions, I went through the motions to keep my cover.

James burst through the door, holding up his badge and a search warrant. ”Put your weapons down and get on your knees.”

The men stilled, looking to each other to decide what to do next. I could see it in their eyes. They wanted to fight back, make this s.h.i.+t a blaze of glory, but we were outnumbered. Slowly lowering my gun, deciding to be the leader, I kneeled on the floor and tossed my weapon.

The law enforcement agents, which included DEA, FBI, US Marshals, and local law enforcement, waited with their weapons drawn, pointing at every member of the club.

”Give it up, gentlemen. We have an arrest warrant for each of you and a search warrant for the property,” James declared, shaking a piece of paper in his hand.

”f.u.c.k,” Cowboy hissed as he followed my lead.

Murmurs and growls filled the s.p.a.ce as each member laid down their guns as they dropped to their knees.

”Don't worry, brothers.” Cowboy looked c.o.c.ky and calm, not realizing the severity of the situation.

Even the best lawyer in the world wouldn't be able to get the guys out on bail. Federal courts and crimes weren't easy to deal with, and it was harder to buy off the judges. The case would be too big-on every major news channel-for it to be swept under the rug. People would scream foul if judges sided with the MC, with all the evidence we had been able to acc.u.mulate over the months.

James stalked toward me, placing his gun in his holster and grabbing his handcuffs. ”John Lansing,” he stated, opening the handcuffs and attaching the first to my left wrist, ”you have the right to remain silent...”

I blanched, always having hated that name. It wasn't me and never would be.

He gripped my hands, sticking them behind my back. As he attached the second one to my right wrist, he finished reading my rights.

When I climbed to my feet, James marched me out past the other members. As I walked by, I found that each man was going through the process. I nodded to them, pretending it was going to be okay.

James stopped close to his car, far enough away from the building, and turned me to face him. ”s.h.i.+t is finally over.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. ”I thought there were be some gunshots. Thank f.u.c.k for that.”

”If Rebel had been the head, there may have been. I'm just happy I'm one step closer to home.”

”They can't wait to see you, Thomas.”

”Yeah,” I whispered, turning my back to him as I saw the door open.

”Get your a.s.s moving,” he barked, pus.h.i.+ng me toward one of the vans to carry us to the station.

Smiling, I dragged my feet, being a total a.s.shole and making him push me in the direction.

”Move your feet!” he yelled, shoving me harder.

”f.u.c.k off,” I replied, coming to a complete stop.

”You're a d.i.c.k,” he whispered before nudging me again.

Slowly moving my feet, I took step after step toward my ride to freedom. After climbing in, I sat in the back and watched as they loaded the rest of the guys in the three vans parked on the property. As soon as the doors slammed, they started to b.i.t.c.h and question each other.

”What the f.u.c.k?” Rooster adjusted his body, trying to find a comfortable position.

We all felt the same way, but some of us dealt with it better than others. Rooster was still nursing a shoulder wound he'd received during the shootout with the rival group that had killed Rebel.

”We'll be out in no time,” I lied, and I didn't feel an ounce of guilt.

”We f.u.c.kin' better. Cowboy better have some s.h.i.+t lined up.”

”I'm sure he does.” I smiled, knowing that the f.u.c.ker hadn't even thought about something as big as this.

With the issues with Rebel's disappearance and getting the club in order, it hadn't even entered his mind.

The guys joked on the way to our final destination without a care in the world. It was a pervasive issue in the MC-smugness. They thought they were invincible, that everyone could be bought. On the local level, I would have to agree, but on the federal level it wasn't that simple. They'd find that out soon enough.

Once unloaded, we were each booked and placed in separate parts of the jail. No more than two club members were allowed in the same area. Splitting us up was smart, especially to keep my cover.

Staring at the ceiling as I waited, I listened to the prospect complain about being in jail. At my breaking point, I yelled, ”Dude, shut the f.u.c.k up already!”

His face drained of all blood. ”I'm sorry,” he said as he sat on the edge of his cot and stared at me. ”I've never been in jail.”

”Get used to it. It's part of this life. If you can't handle the s.h.i.+t, you better get the f.u.c.k out now.”

”Yeah.” He adjusted himself, lying back and remaining silent.

As I drifted to sleep, I thought of Roxy, allowing myself to linger on the memory of her touch and smell while I waited for my freedom.

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