Page 8 of Finn

And here I am. Sitting around the same table he used to be at the head of. It’s an overwhelming feeling. One I’ve never shared before. Unlike most of these guys, I’m private. I think it’s a way of self-preservation. It’s how I’ve survived this long.

“Where the fuck is Porter?” Brooks asks, looking around.

“He’s dealing with ghosts from the past,” Riley says.

Brooks shakes his head, letting his cigarette burn out in the ashtray in front of him. “We all have fucking ghosts from the past haunting us. He can’t just disappear. I need a full goddamn table,” he growls.

“I’ll go get him,” Riley says, standing up.

“You’ll go after this. Fill him in,” Brooks says.

“What the hell is going on now?” Z asks.

Brooks scrubs his face and leans onto the table. “I got word from our California brothers that the feds are nosing around. Trying to get information on us.”

Riley leans back in his seat, covering his face. After everything he just went through, this has got to feel like a punch in the gut. Z and Kace exchange looks, and I fold my hands on the table.

“I thought this shit was put to bed,” I say.

“So did we, but apparently not,” Enzo says.

Riley punches the table, breathing heavily. “I’m not doing this shit again. We need to fight back now,” he growls.

“Hold on. We don’t even know what’s going on. They could just be pushing for information on what happened with Agent McKay. It could be an internal thing. Might not even have anything to do with us,” Z says.

“Bullshit! If they weren’t trying to bring us down, they’d be here,” Riley shouts.

He has a point. If this wasn’t about us, they’d be nosing around here, not California. I look up suddenly and stare at the wall. California. Could it be a coincidence that Mia’s father is in California, and now shit is getting stirred again? Or maybe I’m overthinking it all and shit just never went to rest.

“Finn,” Enzo says.

I snap out of my thoughts and look around. “What?”

“You alright?”

I adjust my position in the chair and nod. “Yeah, just trying to figure out why the fuck the feds want us so bad.”

“It all comes down to Kingsley being killed. That piece of shit had his hand in everything. The feds are just as dirty as he was. They’re never going to stop until they get their revenge on us because losing Kingsley means they lost a fuck load of money coming in,” Riley says, scrubbing his face. “They won’t stop until we’re all in fucking federal prison.”

“Fuck,” Brooks yells, bringing his fist down on the table. “We need some intel. We need someone inside.”

“Maybe we take a road trip to see our brothers in California. See if they have anyone we can trust,” Z suggests.

Brooks looks around the table. “I’m fucking tired of this shit. If it’s not another club cutting us off at the knees, it’s the goddamn feds. We’ve lost brothers, been betrayed, and been forced to make unimaginable decisions. We need to be two steps ahead of this shit. Find fucking Porter, and tomorrow we vote on going to California. See what the fuck we can dig up.” He throws his beer bottle at the wall, and it shatters across the floor.

“I’ll take Finn, and we’ll go find Porter,” Riley says, standing up.

“I shouldn’t need to say this shit, but some of you handed over your balls. Nothing leaves this fucking room. I don’t give a shit if you’re balls deep inside that pussy, and she’s begging to know. Keep your mouths shut,” Brooks growls.

No one says anything. We just get up and walk out of the room. I follow Riley outside, and we get on our bikes. This shit is bad, and maybe I should mention what I was thinking, but if I’m wrong, it will make shit even worse. It’s probably best to go into this with no suspects.

My thoughts drift to Mia, and when they do, a cold chill wraps around me. Something isn’t right. I need to call her. Once we get Porter, I need to make sure she’s alright. She could be tied to us at this point, and I never want that weight on my shoulders.

We pull up to Porter’s house, and there are no lights on. I hop off my bike, shaking my head. “You think he’s even here?”

Riley bangs on the door, yelling his name. “Guess we’ll find out.” The door opens, and Porter is standing there in just boxers. “Fuck, Porter.”

“What the hell do you want?”

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