Page 55 of Fury
“French chicks?”
“Canadian whores, Fiends bought and paid for flesh. That was the last straw for me, started me on the path we’re still on.” Mason shook his head, reaching for the beer the prospect held out.
Fury watched as the kid—they all looked like kids these days—retreated to the bar, one of the only safe places in the room for someone of his level when there were so many heavy hitters in the room.
“She got pissed and went west, wound up in California. She…liked her some biker, man. Hooked up with Outriders out there. Not Morgan,” Gunny added the last part quickly, in response to some subtle shift on Mason’s part. “But she was around, a lot. Meant Jimmy was around a lot, too. Friends with Shooter. Friends with a lot of the Outriders, which was his intro into the life. It was about that time when Morgan moved one of his many women into residence at the clubhouse.” He gestured at Mason. “Your Justine’s mother, looks like. And Justine came with. That’s about the time Shooter’s old lady took a runner, hiding her and Eddie for a time. Everything’s a muddle in some places, but in others, Mason, I got a clear thread to follow.”
Mason’s eyes closed slowly and he stood for a minute. Eyes still closed, he said, “Justine LaPorte was living in the Outrider clubhouse?”
“Yeah.”
“What else?” Mason’s eyes opened, then narrowed on Gunny. “She and Diamond, Jimmy…they were about the same age, right?” Gunny nodded. “And you found a boy in Kentucky who was abandoned about the same time Tabby died?” Gunny nodded again. “That boy Tabby’s kid?”
“Nope.” Gunny shook his head, hands on his hips. “I think it was Justine and Jimmy’s kid. Morgan and Deacon’s grandson.”
“Jesusfuck.” Taking a deep breath, Fury leaned sideways, putting one shoulder against a column. “Is there anywhere those men don’t have their fingers dug deep?”
“Seems like it, I know. Still, this Christopher Ryan is the right age, has the right name, and, Mason—” Gunny turned slightly. “—pictures of him as a teen? He could be Chase’s big brother, man.”
“For years, I thought Bethy was the only family I had.” Mason’s voice was deceptively mild, calm, but Fury could see how his clenched fists trembled. “Now, I got blood coming out of the woodwork.” He pulled in a breath, lifting his chin. “Got anything else for us? This Chris is what…thirty now?”
“Twenty-seven, married, with two kids, and he’s an accountant in Louisville.” Gunny shrugged. “He’s about as vanilla as a citizen can be, brother. I think he got stuck somewhere and then left there, and he’s totally ignorant of his heritage.”
“So you think he’s gonna be a product of nurture? Leaving nature out of it?” Mason laughed, the sound hard and brittle, breaking against the walls around them. “Fucking shit, brother. I vote we leave him the fuck alone. Leave him to his life.”
“Seconded.” Fury lifted his beer, making a face when the warm liquid hit his tongue. He swallowed it down, forcing the bitter along with everything else.
