Page 30 of Gonzo's Grudge
I stayed seated. Ran a palm over the gouges in Pop’s chair like they were Braille. “Loyalty at all costs,” I said to the wood. It replied back in silence.
Burn lingered, the last one at the door. “Gonzo,” he said, and I looked up. “One more thing I didn’t want to put on paper.”
I cocked a brow.
“Hampton’s housekeeper is his sister-in-law,” he said. “He treats her mean. If we need hands in the house, she might hold the door.”
I nodded once. “File her name under last resort.”
He nodded back and left me with the gavel and the ghosts.
I walked out to the lot by myself. The night air tasted like rain that hadn’t decided to shower down just yet. My hands wanted a fight. My head wanted a plan. My heart—if I could call it that without laughing—wanted to hear a voice say my name like it had earlier in the week, soft and sure and more dangerous than any judge.
I thumbed my phone, typed and erased, typed and erased again. I told myself I’d keep away until we had Walsh on his knees and Hampton coughing up money he couldn’t hide. I told myself distance kept people alive. I told myself all the lies men like me tell when they’re trying to do something right for once. Then I sent a text I shouldn’t have.
Back in town. Eat?
The dots came fast. Yes.
I stared at the single word like it might burn its way through the glass into my palm.
Twenty minutes, I replied. Door. Jacket.
Okay, she responded. Then, a simple but thoughtful: Be careful.
I smiled where no one could see. “Always,” I said to the empty lot, and swung my leg over the Harley-Davidson. Never replying back.
The engine ticked in rhythm. The road opened. Behind me, my brothers split into the night to face the task at hand or deal with their own shit at home. Ahead of me, a girl waited at a door with a jacket and a heart that didn’t know how to quit.
I wasn’t a kind man. I wasn’t a good one either. But I believed in loyalty at all costs. I’d pay it for my son. For my club. And God help me, guilt could eat at me until eternity, but I’d do whatever I had to even if it meant entangling an innocent woman in this mess.
The bitterness sat heavy on my soul. Hampton Stanley thought he owned this town, and Judge Walsh smiled like justice was a joke. They were about to learn what it felt like when the joke bit back.
We would dig. We would gather. We would build the case like a scaffold.
And then we would hang them with their own rope. And in the meantime, I would enjoy tasting the innocence of a woman tossed in a world she had never known.
Chapter 11
IvaLeigh
When Gonzo told me he’d be “on a run,” I didn’t ask questions.
Part of me wanted to. I wanted to know what that meant, what he did when he disappeared for days, what kind of business could take him away with nothing but the roar of motorcycles fading into the distance. But the way he said it—the finality in his tone, the weight in those words—told me it wasn’t something I had the right to pry into.
So I just nodded. And then I allowed myself to miss him.
I missed him more than I should have, more than made any sense. I barely knew him, yet the silence of my apartment felt heavier without him there to break it. Darla seemed scarce and I wasn’t complaining about that. My classes dragged. The library lost its comfort. Even the walk across campus felt emptier without wondering if he’d be leaning against his motorcycle, waiting with that patient, dangerous calm.
Darla noticed, well as much as she was capable. She was too wrapped up in Collin most days to care about me, but even she raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it’s going to sprout legs and kiss you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m just waiting on a call.”
“From who?” she pressed, smirking.
“No one,” I lied.
But it wasn’t no one. It was him.
