Page 41 of Emmy's Ride

Tank squinted at me, brow creasing. “What are you gettin’ at?”

“What if we went legit?”

Crickets.

Then Tank let out a low whistle. “Shit. You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

He studied me, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And what the hell would we do legitimately?”

I glanced at the clubhouse, at the brothers who had given their lives to something bigger than themselves. Then I thought of Emmy. Of those kids.

“We help people.”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“We’ve got money, resources, people who know this town. What if we stopped running from the law and started changing things?”

He barked a laugh. “You wanna turn the Kings into a goddamn charity?”

I shook my head. “I wanna turn it into something real. Something we own without looking over our shoulders.” I took a slow breath. “Something that would make Emmy stay.”

Tank went quiet again.

I hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but it was the damn truth. If I wanted Emmy—really wanted her—I had to be the kind of man she could have. And that meant changing everything. Yet I had to be true to myself and the KOC.

Tank scratched his jaw. “You talk to the others?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you got my vote. But you know this ain’t gonna be easy.”

I smirked. “Never is.”

We clinked our bottles together. It wasn’t a plan. Not yet. But it was a start.

The clubhouse doors burst open, and Bear stormed out, eyes blazing with fury. Diesel and Jax weren’t far behind, their expressions just as grim.

I straightened, setting my bottle down hard on the table. “What?”

“Trouble.”

No shit. “Spit it out.”

Jax set his phone on the table in front of me. “This.”

I snatched it up, finding a local news article. The headline hit me like a punch to the gut.

LOCAL BUSINESS OWNER FOUND DEAD—EVIDENCE POINTS TO KINGS OF CHAOS MC

My stomach tightened as I skimmed the article, searching for the name.

Paul Jeffries.

I knew that name. Jeffries owned a small trucking company that had done business with the Kings before. He wasn’t dirty, at least not the way some of our other contacts were. But now hewas dead, and the papers were saying one of his men had seen a guy in a Kings’ cut leaving the scene.

“Who’s the King they’re blaming?” I growled.

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