Thirty-Three

Reaper

Now it was my turn to fucking shout, but I never got the chance.

"THAT'S IT!" Montana roared.

Going for his weapon, he frowned as he started patting down his body. Turning to his VP, he snarled, "Where the fuck are my guns?"

"Took them off you at the Gentlemen's Club."

"I'm ordering you to shoot that kid!"

Bullseye slowly turned to Montana and growled. "You do, and I will fucking kill you myself."

Mercy groaned, glaring at Bullseye. "Will you stop? You're not helping. I can handle Montana."

"Apparently about as well as I can handle Reaper," Bullseye deadpanned, shaking his head.

Getting to my feet, I roared, pointing at Montana, "YO! Loudmouth. Shut the fuck up!" Turning to Sypher, I sneered, as he gulped, taking a step back. "Boy, you better have a damn good fucking reason for being here. Didn't that loudmouthed pussy over there threaten to fucking kill you if you ever stepped foot in his shitty ass club again?"

"It wasn't just him, Reaper," another kid, no older than Sypher said, walking up to stand right next to him. "We knew this was the only way to get you both in the same room."

"What the fuck is he talking about, Sypher? I'm here because that piece of shit over there let one of his boy scouts marry a Golden Legacy without my permission!"

"That's the least of your worries."

"Pippen's right, Reaper," Sypher quickly said. "Trouble is coming."

"Why is it when they say shit like that, I get scared," I vaguely heard Massacre whisper.

"We all do," Fury, the Soulless Sinners' Sergeant at Arms, replied.

Growling, I took a step toward Sypher, and the kid started speaking fast.

"You know my brother Ace works for Harbor Security. They are working with the FBI, going over all the files they found at the Trick Pony. The bureau even contracted Harbor Security to help find all the members of the club to bring them to justice. Well, Ace was in charge of compiling all the data. It's a lot."

"Really a lot," Pippen added.

"I've been helping Ace in my spare time. Helping him to sort through everything and to locate the members. Well, while doing that, I found something that affects both clubs."

"Not just both clubs; everyone," Pippen added, looking at Montana. "You know that file I found the other day? The one that didn't make any sense. Well, now it does. It's all connected."

"There's more, Reaper. When Ace went to investigate, he disappeared. He's gone. Vanished."

"What the fuck do you mean, vanished?" Bullseye asked, getting to his feet.

Ace wasn't just Sypher's older brother. He was the first-born son of Moonshine and Roxy, the former president of the Tennessee Chapter of the Golden Skulls. While Ace chose a military life over club life, everyone, including me, considered him family.

"I mean, my brother has disappeared. Law is losing his shit. The rest of Harbor Security is searching, but they can't find him. All they know is that the data file Ace was working on is also gone, and the FBI is waiting on a warrant to raid Harbor Security and arrest them for interfering in a federal investigation."

I watched as Bullseye reached for his phone, probably calling Trout or Chipper. Mercy already had his phone to his ear as he got up and walked away from the table.

Rounding the table, Montana came to stand next to me. "When did this happen?"

"Twenty-four hours ago," Sypher admitted.

"I've met Ace," Montana said, looking at me. "He wouldn't leave his brothers stranded."

"You're right." I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck. "I've known Ace since we were kids, when our dads ran the Golden Skulls. Ace isn't a runner."

"Just got off the phone with Savage," Bullseye stated, walking over. "Trout and Chipper are gone. I texted Phantom to start digging."

Mercy interrupted, "Phones are disconnected at Harbor Security."

"Shit," Bullseye cursed, looking at his phone.

"What?" Montana and I asked at the same time.

Looking at me, Bullseye whispered, "Ravage is gone, too."

"Goddamnit!" I cursed, turning to Sypher, grabbing the kid by the scruff of his shirt. "Start spilling, now. What the fuck did you find?"

"It's all a lie."

"What is?" Montana sneered.

When neither man spoke, Montana grabbed Pippen. "SPEAK!"

"The Original Seven didn't start the Golden Skulls!" Pippen shouted.

"Gregory Stone did!" Sypher added, staring at Montana.

Releasing Sypher, I stepped back, shaking my head. "What the fuck are you two talking about? Xavier Goldman started the Golden Skulls along with William Doherty and five other asshats after they returned from the Vietnam War. It's in the fucking charter. That's fact."

"It's a lie, Reaper. I swear," Sypher gasped. "Ace found information at the Trick Pony that it was Gregory Stone who started the Golden Skulls. That's when he reached out to me. Pippen and I have been going over everything, and it's true."

"Bullshit," I dismissed, refusing to believe it. "I don't believe you."

"This is ludicrous," Montana snarked, shaking his head. "My great-grandfather didn't start the fucking Golden Skulls. He never even lived in California. He was born and raised in the Midwest. Nebraska, to be exact, before he moved to New York City long before the fucking war started."

"Lincoln, Nebraska to be precise," Sypher stated firmly. "Gregory Stone was twenty-nine when he moved to the Big Apple. Ancestry documents prove that. He moved because he was running for his life. Reaper, the Golden Skulls didn't start in Purgatory. They began in Lincoln, Nebraska, and I can prove it. Something happened, and Gregory Stone was kicked from the club with a bounty on his head. When he ran, he vowed, one way or another, to make the men who stole his club from him pay. That's why he created the Soulless Sinners and aligned himself with the Romano Family."

Shaking my head, I refused to believe this crap.

There was no fucking way my legacy was a fucking lie.

"There's more, too," Pippen cautiously added.

"Of course there is," Montana sighed, taking a seat as he looked at me. "Do you honestly believe this crap?"

Shaking my head, I growled, "Fuck no."

"Well, then maybe this will help," Sypher began. "In the mountains of files Ace had me go through, he found out that Devlin Scott had a fucking half-brother. Does the name Steven Hartley ring a bell?"

Montana's head snapped up. "Popeye?"

"Yes," Sypher confirmed. "Steven Hartley was instrumental to George Stone. He knew all of his secrets. But the big one, the reason Popeye is gone, is because George was blackmailing him to keep quiet, because George needed Malice off kilter. He needed Malice on a hair-trigger because he knew if Malice ever found out that he had a hand in the abuse Malice received at the Trick Pony, Malice would kill the fucker, sever his ties to the Soulless Sinners, and run back to Crispin Sinclair. And just so you both know, before the Feds stormed the Trick Pony, someone accessed the club's database and downloaded everything. Someone out there knows everything Pippen and I know."

I looked at Montana and we both muttered, "Graves."

"I'm gonna fucking kill that motherfucker!" Montana sneered.

Leaning forward in my chair, I asked, "How do you want to handle this clusterfuck? Because regardless of what's in those files, I'm not giving up my club."

"Don't want your club. I've got enough problems already."

"Well, I hate to pile on…" a familiar voice declared, leaning against the door.

Bullseye slowly got to his feet when Massacre cursed.

Slowly turning in my seat, I stared at the one man who'd had my back from the very beginning.

The one person who knew me the best.

The one person I knew would never fucking betray me.

Smirking, I shook my head.

"You picked a fine fucking time to show up, Ghost."

To Be Continued in Golden Atonement