No one said anything for I don’t know how long. I knew the wheels were spinning so goddamn fast in his head he could barely keep up. Trying to figure out how he could weasel his way out of this, save his sorry ass.
“I’d take his plea bargain, old man. As much as I’d love to see you rottin’ away in prison. Unfortunately, you’re still my fuckin’ father. I can’t bring myself to do that to my mother or Noah, even though you’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ piece of shit. It may have been different if you had actually succeeded with trafficking Mia. So I guess that’s your only savin’ fuckin’ grace. Cuz, see...” I leaned over on the table. “I ain’t nothin’ like you. I got a fuckin’ conscience. And I can’t take any more lives, not even fuckin’ yours.”
My father peered back and forth between us, knowing his end was fucking near.
“Either way, your ass is serving time. It’s just up to you to determine how long,” Damien added.
“How do I know you ain’t lyin’?”
“You got trust issues, Jameson?” He held up the plea bargain. “It’s all written here.” Sliding that over to him, too. “Oh wait...you can read, right?”
“Fuck you!”
“Eh, I prefer fucking putas. Now pick up the fucking pen and sign.”
It didn’t take long for my old man to agree, spending the next five hours telling Damien everything he needed to know and then some. I couldn’t believe the shady shit he was involved in. It made me sick to my fucking stomach that we were blood and he was my father. He had his hands in a little bit of everything. Things that made human trafficking look like fucking child’s play.
I just waited.
Listening to every word. Every confession. Every person he betrayed.
Anticipating when everything was said and done. My moment. Everything I’d been fucking waiting for, pursuing, investigating. All the sleepless nights, all the bullshit I’d gone through. Every life that had been taken.
Mine.
Noah’s.
Mia’s.
Especially Maddie’s.
It all collided together. Except this time, there was no more doubt. No more struggle. No more what ifs.
My time had come to make things right. All I ever wanted led up to this point in time. Where nothing else mattered.
But fucking revenge.
We walked out the back doors of the clubhouse when they were done with his confession. Pops was getting ready to light up a cigarette, smoking one last time before Damien was supposed to take him in. I didn’t think twice about it, in one swift movement I grabbed the gun from the back of my old man’s jeans and aimed it right at his head.
“The fuck you doin’?” he immediately let out.
“Damien, grab the gun he’s hidin’ in his boot.”
He obliged, pulling the handkerchief out from his suit jacket and bending over. Using it as a barrier between his hand and the gun, he grabbed ahold of the Glock. Placing it in the back of his slacks still using the handkerchief as a barrier between his skin and the gun.
“Grab that shovel over there and fuckin’ walk,” I ordered, nodding to the shovel behind my father.
He peered over at Damien, waiting for him to interfere. Say something, anything so I would lower my gun.
Damien just shrugged, putting on his sunglasses. “I have what I came for,” he let out, holding up his briefcase.
My father’s eyes widened, spewing, “You fuckin’ played me!”
“WALK!” I roared, pushing my gun into the side of his head.
His chest heaved and his nostrils flared, stepping one foot in front of the other toward the direction I demanded. Eventually figuring out where I was taking him. I followed close behind, remembering everything about that goddamn night.
How thick and suffocating the fog from the rain the day before was. The way the wind blew a cool breeze through the trees, skimming the surface of my overly heated skin. I remembered the sounds of twigs cracking beneath my boots, the noises from the birds and owls, along with whatever else fucking lurked in the woods.
Most of all, I remembered feeling so much fucking hatred for my father. Not giving Luke, his son, a proper burial. Just wanting to throw him in a field along with countless other bodies the club had taken.
I hadn’t been back there not one fucking time since the night he made me bury my brother.
Not one fucking time.
Until now.
We stopped when we stood over the exact place where his body lay buried under dirt, rocks, and God knows what else.
Nodding to him, I ordered, “Dig.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Ain’t ever been more serious about anythin’ in my fuckin’ life! Now fuckin’ dig!” I seethed, daring him to defy me.
“You gonna tell Damien over here? How you murdered your brother, huh? What? Wanna a cell by your old man? Is that it?”
“He already knows,” I simply retorted. “Don’t you see, Prez, this is all part of the plan. I give him what he wants, he gets a promotion. I get immunity for providin’ evidence to finally turn your ass in. Make sense now? All the roads comin’ together for you?”
Pops shook his head, gripping the shovel tight, grumbling something under his breath. Forcefully driving the blade into the hard ground over and over again. Heaving dirt over his shoulder while Damien and I watched. I kept my emotions in check. Trying like hell to remain calm the closer he got to digging up my brother’s grave. Until all that could be seen was a giant hole in the dirt along with the black body bag that held Luke’s remains.
“There! There’s your fuckin’ brother! Tell him how sorry you are again! Forget you’re the reason he’s in the ground?” he sadistically mocked.
“Bring him up here!” I demanded, looking only at him.
He did as he was told, placing the bag of bones next to me. “We done now? This the family reunion you wanted, Creed?” He was about to jump out from the hole, but I had other plans for him. I cocked back the chamber, making him jerk back in place. “What the fuck you think you doin’?”
“What I shoulda done a long fuckin’ time ago,” I simply stated.
He put his hands up in the air, surrendering, stepping further into the makeshift grave. “You don’t got to do this... I’m already goin’ to prison!”
“Prison is too fuckin’ good for you!”
“Damien! What the fuck?! You gonna stand there and watch him—”
“I don’t like to involve myself in family disputes. I’m not that kind of attorney. It wouldn’t be my place,” he sarcastically interrupted in his serious El Santo tone. “I already told you, I have what I came for. It doesn’t matter if I bring you in, dead or alive. I solved the case. Not to mention all the names and evidence you provided. By the way, thank you for that, but in my honest opinion...” He smiled. “Justice is always served better on the fucking streets.”
“You piece of shit!” My father spit at him, peering back at me with a vicious glare. “How the fuck is this happening? How the fuck did you even find out?!”
“That was all—”