As he watches me, and the struggle I’m sure plays out upon my face, Bowen Dale cocks his head to the side and his expression goes from businesslike to caring.
“Violet, if I can offer you a word of advice…”
I nod. I’m paralyzed by temptation, by the thought of leaving that cold bastard to rot in prison, and I’m worried that, if I speak, I’ll blurt out the wrong thing and send Bowen Dale on an errand I don’t want him to run. It will take a lot to work myself up to abandoning Crash, and I don’t intend to speak until I can say those words.
“Rescue that biker friend of yours,” he says.
“What?” I gasp. As tempting as he is — and despite everything that’s happened, there’s still a small part of my heart that he has his claws in, a part that is still tainted by the memory of how he could be if he would just drop that icy shell — the thought of giving up my best friend just to get Crash free shocks me. “Why?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Violet, but you and this Crash character have done more than a few illegal things together, correct?”
I nod.
“And it’s safe to say that you two have been seen together, on multiple occasions, by people ranging from the sheriffs, to the Death’s Disciples, to regular civilians. Am I right?”
Dread squeezes my heart. I nod.
“Now, if you leave Crash and his compatriots in the custody of the sheriffs, it will only be a matter of time before they uncover that cargo of theirs. And that sure will motivate them, and the Death’s Disciples, to take a hard look into the lives of anyone that Crash has been associated with. That includes you. Now, are you prepared to handle that? Because they will turn over every stone and go over your entire life — your home, your bar — with a fine-toothed comb. Who knows what they might find?”
Like a double-murder that took place in my home?
Screaming, I ram my fist into the wall. It hurts like hell and sends numbing pain jolting up my arm, but even as I shake feeling back into my hurt hand, I think about doing it again. This is just one more way that Crash is tearing apart my life; as much as I want to leave him behind, to save my friend and forget about him, I can’t, because we’re tied together by a bloody double-murder.
“Fine. I want you to get Crash and the others out of jail.”
“Excellent choice,” he says. Then, thinking, he swirls his cognac before taking a long gulp. “That’ll cost you fifty thousand dollars.”
I’m so shocked I don’t know what else to do but laugh.
“What? I don’t have that kind of money. I didn’t even have the five grand you wanted earlier.”
“You’ll have to figure something out, if you want you my services..”
“Are you serious? You’re going to let me, Crash and his friends, and Kendra — and don’t forget little Josie — all suffer because of your greed?”
“This is business, not charity, Violet. I’ve told you my price. Now it’s up to you to agree to my terms or not.”
Piece by piece, everything I care about is being ripped away from me. And again, there’s that word. Business. This business has stolen my heart, the man I love, my best friend — everything that I care about is being torn away from me. And all for business. Fucking business.
What else is this business going to take before the end?
“I do have something I can offer,” I whisper. I surprise myself by not crying. By holding back the tears and the roiling anger and nod my head.
“What’s that?”
“You can take my bar.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Crash
“Look alive, you pieces of shit; you’ve got a visitor.”
The sheriff’s deputy slams on the bars of the cell with his nightstick, jolting me out of the dark thoughts that I’ve fallen in to. It won’t be long before the sheriffs start poking around our cargo truck and, even as dumb as these bastards are, it won’t take them too long to find the guns we’ve got hidden away. Not only have I lost the woman that I love, I’m about to fail my club, too.
Dying doesn’t seem like too bad of an out. It probably wouldn’t take too much work to provoke one of these deputies to use deadly force. Suicide by cop isn’t an elegant way out, but at least I’ll die with the satisfaction of having beaten one of their stupid faces in.
I look up at see an old man. Rotund, carrying a bottle of whiskey and a few bags of what smells like fresh-fried donuts.
“What the fuck do you want, Bowen Dale?”
“I heard you boys got yourselves into a bit of trouble.”
“And, what, are you a lawyer, too?”
He nods. “I have been known to stand in front of a judge’s bench from time to time. But I doubt you boys could afford my services when it comes to legal representation. No, I’m here to see if you all would like some donuts.”
“Thanks, BD,” Blaze says, leaving his bench and heading to the cell door to take a donut through the bars. He takes a big bite. “These are fucking good.”
Mack and Snake both join him seconds later, Mack takes a cruller and Snake an apple danish.
“You don’t want one, Crash? They were made maybe five minutes ago. Best shop in town, and better than anything you’ll find for miles around. They don’t even serve shit
