Thirty-Two

Montana

After Delany handed Reaper and I our asses, we adjourned to the boardroom to hammer out some details. Mainly, we needed to decide what we were going to do with Benson Graves. The fucker was a wealth of knowledge and while I wanted the fucker dead, I couldn't just kill him. I needed what he had buried in his fucking head.

However, I wasn't ready to slit his throat quite yet.

"So," Reaper began, breaking the silence of the room. "Here you have a woman with no idea where she came from."

Malice stepped forward and growled.

Narrowing my eyes, I asked, "Where the fuck did you hear that?"

"Around," Reaper muttered, looking at his 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," I said, sitting back in my chair. "Now, about Graves."

"What about him?"

"Aren't you curious about what he has on you?"

"Nope." Reaper smiled, looking at me. "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." Reaper frowned, sitting up and placing his 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," I cursed, hanging my head.

Of course he was. At this point, nothing shocked me anymore. Everything I knew about my dad was a fucking lie. My whole life I'd looked up to him, wanted to be him, craved to learn everything he could teach me as if it were the holy grail. I wanted the legacy. To rule it all. And now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

Tessa told me once that looks could be deceiving.

She was right.

Everything I knew about my father was a lie.

To make matters worse, Reaper was right. There were too many skeletons, and I wasn't sure I could contain them all. The alliances, deals, secret backdoor meetings with people, groups, and other clubs that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole seemed to be the norm for my dad.

"I'll go after him," Torment offered, getting up and following.

As soon as Torment left the room, Reaper 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?" I asked. "You know what's coming?"

"Some, but not all," Reaper admitted.

"What's it gonna cost me?"

When he stayed silent, Vicious leaned forward, shaking his head and he sighed. "Me. He wants me."

"It's time to come home, brother," Reaper clearly spoke as Fury and Storm looked at Vicious before slowly sliding their chairs away from him.

"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'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."

"And that is?" I asked, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

"Dual club membership."

"FUCK NO!" I roared, jumping to my feet. "Never gonna happen."

"Montana, let Reaper finish," Mercy placated, trying to calm me down. Reaper had lost his fucking mind if he thought for one fucking second that I would ever allow a brother in the Golden Skulls to ever sit at my table.

No fucking way.

No how.

Not happening.

Not ever!

"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." Reaper grinned, then said the one fucking thing that got my 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."