Page 32 of Reconciling the Consequences

Marlie frowned. “That’s too bad. Stacy is good people.”

Kara nodded wholeheartedly. “She is. I told her to do what she had to while I figure out this mess with my father.”

“It’s so fucked up,” Rachel snapped. “Who spends forty years framing someone over some ancient history?”

“Who tries to kill their daughter after they went through the trouble of tracking them down as an adult and claiming them first?” Kara countered.

“Fucker,” Sheila snapped.

“Yep,” Kara agreed. “Anyway,” she said, “today isn’t about me or my bullshit. What are you ladies doing, and how can I help?”

They spent the next hour setting up poster boards of hundreds of photos from over the years. Rachet was an original member; he had started the Ravager Knights with Johnny’s father, Mac, back in the day.

Once the poster boards were set on easels and tables around the main barroom of the clubhouse, the ladies made sure food was set for their return after the service. There would be no Mass at a church for Rachet, but they had a reverend that was a friend of the club’s that would hold a service at the gravesite.

The plan was that the Ravager Knights, with all their out-of-town guests, would escort the hearse out of the compound and across town to Angelview Cemetery, on the far north side of the city. They would take the side streets, ride as a pack, and take their time. They had close to 200 bikers among the Ravager Knights, sister charters, and friends, family, and hangers-on that also rode. Kara would ride in the lead car behind the pack of bikes, with Rachel and Marlie and a prospect that had been ordered to protect the three women.

Behind them would be a lineup of cars of the people that didn’t ride. There were some three hundred people who wanted to pay their respects to the fallen biker. They had a police escort and closed streets to ease their path through the city.

After, they would make the same trek back to the clubhouse, where the caterers, waitresses, and courtesans would have a large buffet set up for the several hundred guests. Johnny had mentioned they had fights scheduled for that evening in the ring, as entertainment, and lots and lots of alcohol.

It was the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing Kara had ever witnessed. It was awe-inspiring how law enforcement and criminals could work together.

Kara sat in the front with the prospect, who was driving; the girls had insisted, with her knee and being the new HBC. “HBC?” she’d questioned. Head Bitch in Charge, she had been told, because she was Johnny’s old lady and he was vice president. Since King, the president, didn’t have an old lady, the title fell to her.

“Congrats.” Marlie smirked from the back seat. “You’re queen of the bikers.”

Kara’s mouth had dropped open momentarily in shock before she got herself together. She was grateful when Marlie and Rachel just laughed and nodded. “Took us a while to get used to it, too—the whole biker lifestyle,” Rachel said, squeezing her hand.

The service at the gravesite had been about twenty minutes. Kara stood between Johnny and Kevin. She held Johnny’s hand, and Kevin wrapped his arm around her waist. Derrick stood to Kevin’s right, but he had pressed a kiss to Kara’s lips as he passed by.

Today, she would let them have their very public PDA because there were no photographers that would dare get close to the gravesite.

Afterward, on the long drive back to the clubhouse, the girls squealed in excitement as Kara confirmed the rumors were true: she was with all three of them. “That is so fucking hot!” Rachel shouted.

“Hot damn, boss lady!” Marlie had crooned.

Kara blushed and laughed and rolled her eyes. Something about the moment was entirely lighthearted and fun. Friendships beginning, bonds being formed during life’s most somber events.

“So does that work?” Rachel asked, a sly grin on her face.

Kara looked back at her over her shoulder from the front seat. She caught a glimpse of the prospect—the same one that had been watching her house and helped Johnny move her grandmother’s cedar chest—in the driver’s seat and saw the blush creep up the kid’s cheeks.

She smirked back at Rachel. “I mean, you have three holes for a reason.”

Marlie barked a loud laugh that set Rachel and Kara giggling.

Kara turned to the prospect, who looked increasingly uncomfortable. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“K-Kyle.” He stuttered out his name, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Kyle.” She smirked, leaned toward him, and rested her hand on his arm. “I don’t think I have to tell you what happens if anyone finds out about this little conversation, do I?”

He gulped audibly and she ran her finger down his arm. “N-no, ma’am,” Kyle stammered out.

“Good, because we both know Johnny can be a bit…” she purposely paused, “quick tempered,” she finished with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am.” Kyle nodded his head vigorously.

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