Vicious Cycle

The son I had strung up and then proceeded to torture like something out of medieval times. The son who bore the wrath of the bottomless quicksand of grief for Preacher Man that I found myself trapped in. The son I’d left to bleed out on his apartment floor after I did a final act of degradation—I stripped him of his cut and took it with me.

Over the years, I’m sure Preacher Man and Case had rendered the same kind of revenge as I did. I’m not sure if they outdid my level of violence. Grief can bring a man who refuses to acknowledge emotion to his knees. It warps you into a shadow of your former self. It manipulates you into succumbing to the mental anguish you try so hard to escape from. It makes an emotional cripple out of even the strongest man around.

That was the intensity of my loss for Preacher Man. Salvation out of hell was rarely granted, but Preacher Man had been mine. So far I’d lived three lifetimes—the life before Preacher Man and the Raiders, my life with him, and now my life without him.

What I didn’t want to acknowledge then or now was that the grief I had brought to Sigel would have a price. He’d left me alive once, but when he was free, would he do it again? Now that he was out, I was staring down the barrel of a gun.

The deep baritone of Case’s voice once again dragged me from my thoughts. “Sigel killed Lacey,” he said.

“Did he know who she was?”

Case shook his head. Then with a grimace, he added, “But he knows who Willow is.”

My heart twisted as if a giant’s hands had clenched around it. “He’s the threat.”

What I hadn’t told the nosy-ass Miss Evans was a week ago I’d received a package. Within it were pictures of Willow on the school playground, eating lunch in the cafeteria, and skipping out to Mama Beth’s car. While there had been no note, the message was clear—someone was after my daughter. That’s when I had put Willow on lockdown within the compound. She didn’t go anywhere outside, and even when she was inside, a prospect was on her ass every moment.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined Sigel was behind it. But now that I knew who it was and his involvement in Lacey’s murder, the why wasn’t adding up. Not from Willow herself, but from the school psychologist, we knew what Willow had seen. She’d drawn pictures with a “Mean Man” who had hurt her mommy. She had been within Sigel’s reach of revenge, yet he’d let her go. I didn’t understand.

As if he sensed my confusion, Rev said, “He let her live because he realized you didn’t know anything about her.” When I flicked my gaze to his, Rev sighed raggedly. “He wanted to wait until you could have feelings for her. Then it could be personal.”

“Motherfucker,” Bishop muttered.

The knowledge of what Sigel intended sent jagged pain through my chest the same as if he were standing over me and stabbing me. The calculating bastard was fucking with me from a distance, just waiting until the time was right to strike. “If Sigel’s truly using Willow to get to me, it could be months, even a year, before he and the Knights come at us.” I glanced around the table at my brothers. “The more time that passes, the more I can get attached to Willow. Then the greater the revenge.”

“Sigel has never struck me as a patient guy. He bided enough time waiting to get to you when he was in jail,” Mac argued.

“But he didn’t know about Willow then,” I replied.

“I don’t think he intends to stop with her,” Rev said.

I jerked my chin in agreement. “No. I’m sure after what I did, he won’t be satisfied until he puts me in the ground.”

“These aren’t some racist upstarts anymore. My informant says that the Knights have been stockpiling weapons. To help the prosecutor, the Feds have been allowing the purchases,” Case said.

“So what do we do? Smoke them before they can smoke us?” Bishop questioned.

Mac shook his head. “With the Feds breathing down the Knights’ necks, we’d be offering ourselves up on a silver platter. Any way we could fuck them up is just going to fuck us over worse in the end.”

“If we’re supposed to be worried about the Feds, then that would mean the Knights would have to be, too. I don’t see Sigel giving two shits about jail time. When it comes to revenge, he’ll take the risk,” Boone argued.

“As long as Sigel breathes, both Willow and Deacon are in danger.” Surprisingly, it was Rev who’d spoken. The implication of his words was clear, which went against his usually nonviolent nature. But when it came to the lives of his brother and beloved niece, Rev wouldn’t hesitate to break a commandment.

Lacing my fingers behind my head, I countered, “While I’m inclined to agree with you, Rev, we can’t just play into his hand. He knows once word gets around that he’s out, I’ll be on edge, waiting for him to come after me for what I did to his son. He’s banking on the fact that Willow hasn’t talked or that I have no idea he’s tied to Lacey. He’s getting his rocks off on this little game he’s playing.”

We all glanced anxiously at Case, who continued stroking his beard in thought. “I say that for appearances, we play it cool—no going in after Sigel with guns blazing. But I want us to reach out to each and every one of our allies for added protection as well as any shit they can get us on the Knights. If we’re lucky, the Feds will take the fuckers out long before we have to act. Sigel is one conviction away from life. If the right side of the law can put him away, we’ll ensure he dies once he’s inside.”

“That addresses Sigel and the Knights, but what about Willow and Deacon?” Rev questioned.

I threw up one of my hands. “What about us?”

Ignoring me, Rev stared straight at Case. “I think Deacon should have an escort at all times he’s outside the compound.”

I groaned. “Come on, man. You’re acting like I’m a marked man.”

“You are,” he growled.

“With our cuts, we’re all marked men every moment of the day,” I countered.

Slamming his fist down on the table, Case barked, “That’s enough.” Rev and I both eased back in our chairs. “I agree with Rev. Until we can get a better handle on all this, you’re not to leave the compound without an escort.” Before I could protest, Case swept up his gavel and then banged it. “Meeting is adjourned.”

When I started to rise out of my chair, Case shook his head. “You stay.”