Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

DIGG

"You've racked up so many debts with this club, Arlo. This family. Do you know how much it broke Blu when you missed her birthday? Did you even think about her and the others when you went and got your shithead self arrested?"

Konrad being the spokesperson for my brothers isn't shocking. For all his leadership, Shaw, aka FAME when it comes to club business, doesn't pull the rank card often. And Jax and Cameron are too volatile, though in different ways.

Ace? Well, Babe's going to hold a grudge for longer than I care to contemplate. And I've had six months to envision what that'll look like. As it is, watching the way he keeps a table between us when we enter the chapel tells me my worst imaginings about his reaction are coming true.

I'm thankful they waited ‘til we were behind closed doors, Frankie and the other old ladies with Grey out in the rec room, to light into me. She doesn't need to see this. I stand and walk towards the chair where Konrad typically sits. He rises to meet me, stepping close enough we're toe-to-toe.

"I did what I needed to do when I was the only one in the position to do so. I will not apologize for that."

For Shaw and Konrad, I know that's the real issue. They're pissed because they weren't in control. They didn't plan this mission the way their military backgrounds trained them.

"You broke your promise, Digg. To me. To Blu. To the club." Ace has matured during the time I've been gone. The bratty whine in his voice is gone, replaced by a dark accusation that lays bare the boiling fury that's always simmering inside him. None of us know the full story of what happened to him before Konrad took guardianship of him and called us all home. Whatever it was, it turned the sassy baby, who followed us around like a puppy at the group home, into a hardened terror with a chip on his shoulder.

"I did what I did for you, Ace. For the club. For the girls and Grey. You're mad, and that's fine. I get it. But we need to focus on going after the crooked cops that stole Abbie and hurt her. That trafficked Blu and Grey and tried kidnapping Amaliyah." It isn't that I expected my brothers to just let go of their anger, but this feels excessive.

For years, Ace has had haphephobia. It's a big word for being afraid of touch, even sometimes, from people he loves and trusts. It took months after we formed the club before Ace could tolerate touch at all. And even now, I know to either to ask for his consent or be very deliberate and clear if I intend to touch him. To see him now, keeping distance between us as if my touch would be painful for him, hurts. And yeah, maybe, I deserve it for encouraging that dickhead cop to arrest me and then refusing any plea offer, fast tracking my case, so I could get into the jail and out of the temporary holding area. I needed to be near the corrections officers who interacted with inmates. The booking cells where they hold people prior to their trials are primarily controlled remotely because each cell only holds a single inmate at a time.

We thought Joseph Dorman was working with COs at the jail to identify criminals without anyone who gave a shit about them, especially women. A lot of those particular inmates managed to jam out of jail when their sentences were done only to disappear immediately after. We also knew he worked with some of the social workers and juvenile probation officers, who could connect his goons with teens who would be less likely to wind up on milk cartons if they went missing.

Too many kids and vulnerable women slip through the cracks, and these fuckers are preying on them for profit. Now, I have the names and job titles of the Cos who are dirty, and with Abbie's side investigation into which cops are corrupt, we can make some real headway.

"Then tell us what you learned, and then get the fuck to your apartment, so I don't have to look at your lying liar face," Ace seethes.

Hurt hides behind the anger, and I feel lower than shit knowing I'm the cause. Time will be necessary to repair our damaged relationship, so with a sigh I sit down and start talking. Barely half my explanation makes it into the room before Cameron's on his feet, pacing in agitation. He's been home for a couple years now, but a lot of the time, it still feels as if he's pissed to be here. Now that he's got Abbie, I'm guessing he's not resenting us as much as he used to.

At least, he's probably not bitter at the others. The jury's still out on how pissed off he is at me. Every time he executes a turn at the end of the room to stomp back in my direction, his eyes bore holes into me. They catalogue every inch of me not covered by my clothes. I want to believe it's concern for my physical wellbeing. That he's searching for any new scars or injuries I might have wound up with while in jail. But when his glare narrows and his lip curls in a sneer, I know it's wishful thinking.

"Most of this sounds like intel we could have gotten from the outside, dickwad. What do you think we would have done if something had happened to you in there?"

Okay, so there's concern there. Maybe, I'm not totally out of pocket to think Cameron actually cares.

"Could we have? It's possible. Would we know as quickly as this what their business model looks like and who's involved in identifying low-hanging fruit for these pricks to capture and sell? Ask yourself that, GOAT. Sure, in time, we'd figure it out. But how many more women and kids have to go missing or be assaulted while we fuck around getting intel?" I take a deep breath. I think that's more words that I've said at one time in years.

A frantic knock at the door of the room where we hold church, our chapel, halts the tense conversation in its tracks. We all go silent while Shaw rises from the table and goes to crack open the door.

"I don't know what happened, sir. She just…maybe passed out or something?" Grey's timid voice is nearly impossible to hear, but it's enough to have a prickle of awareness spiking in my gut.

"Who, Peanut?" Konrad asks, joining Shaw at the door and pulling Grey into his arms. The smaller man snuggles against my brother as though Bender's arms are the safest place in the universe. I've never been interested in men, but watching them together makes me long for someone to trust me that deeply.

"The…um…the lady with the baby in her stomach?" he haltingly spits out, and I'm on my feet. Church can wait. Hunting her asshole ex, who's involved in this shit and I haven't explained to the guys yet, can wait. The whole fucking world can wait. Francesca is my priority now. Maybe, forever.