“As do I,” Holt said.
Naiya caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and barely had time to shout a warning before Viper surged to his knees. “He’s got a gun.”
Two shots rang out through the mayor’s office. Two bullets pierced Viper’s heart. His mouth opened and closed again, and he dropped his weapon before his massive body sank to the floor.
Naiya looked over at the mayor, huddled in the corner. “You can take that as a no,” she said. “And you can officially declare Viper dead.”
THIRTY
Holt parked his bike outside the Sinner’s Tribe clubhouse for the very last time. After the dust had settled, and the Black Jacks retreated to deal with the loss of their president, he had a long talk with Jagger, and they agreed it was time for him to leave.
Naiya slid off the bike behind him, her new riding leathers creaking as she followed him to the crowd of Sinners waiting by the clubhouse to say good-bye.
“They’re giving you quite the send-off,” she said. “After two days of partying I thought most of them would be comatose this morning.”
“The party was the send-off. This is the good-bye.” Holt threw an arm around her shoulders. He had no plans about what he wanted to do or where he wanted to go. Only that he wanted to be with Naiya, and since she had interviews at forensic labs all over the country, he would take the opportunity to explore his country before making a decision about where to put down roots—if he was putting down roots at all.
With her trust fund vesting in a few short months, Naiya was in no hurry to get back to work. She wanted a chance to be free, to live life without fear of Viper or the Jacks, to travel, see the sights, and think about whether she wanted to pursue a career in forensic science. She’d given up her apartment, sold her stuff, and paid a last visit to Maurice to say good-bye. Holt hadn’t been happy to let her go to that bastard’s apartment alone. He’d sat on his bike outside Maurice’s building, counting off the minutes as he imagined all the things that could go wrong. But, of course, nothing happened. Naiya returned in one piece with a look of satisfaction on her face that was as close to a smirk as he’d ever seen. She seemed at peace with herself about that situation, which was all good with Holt, at least until she told him later that she’d punched Maurice in the face for being a two-timing bastard, and then it was even better.
“I was surprised you kept up with us.”
Naiya snorted a laugh. “I didn’t have a choice. You have some very pretty women at the club. I didn’t want to leave you drunk and alone with them.”
“After watching you beat on Viper, I’d be afraid to even look at another woman, darlin’.”
“Good thing I still don’t have a gun.” She looked up at him and grinned. “Shaggy’s a good teacher. After two weeks of shooting with him, I could really give you something to worry about.”
Holt had his suspicions about Shaggy, but he hadn’t shared them with Naiya. And if Shaggy had chosen to reveal his secrets to her, she hadn’t confided in Holt. Except for the fact Shaggy had shaved his beard after the Sandy Lake shootout, nothing had changed. He was as ornery and grouchy as usual, except around Naiya, and everyone kept a safe distance from him.
“Holt.” Jagger stepped forward and shook Holt’s hand, and in that moment all his years with the Sinner’s Tribe MC hit him in a rush. From the day he first saw the Sinners in a bar and knew he’d found a new home, to the night Jagger accepted him as a prospect, and from meeting Tank to the thrill of receiving his cut that marked him as a brother in the club. He had laughed and partied with these men. They had ridden together and fought together so they could live life on their own terms. Freedom. Loyalty. Honor. Brotherhood. Those were the principles that had governed his life.
Now he had love. And a burning need to find his own place in the world.
Holt handed Jagger his cut, neatly folded, as a symbol of his departure. His heart seized in his chest as he released it into Jagger’s hands. The night Jagger had given him that cut had been the greatest night of his life. He had never been more proud, never happier, and he’d shared every minute of that glorious night with Tank.