Page 59 of Savage Angels
“Carlos,” he rumbles.
“Appreciate you coming down, Dane.” They have known each other for as long as I can remember, and although I wouldn’t say they are best friends, they have a healthy respect for each other. “We’ve got a problem.”
Dad tilts his head to the side and looks at me through the jail cell's bars. Carlos walks closer to me down the narrow hallway of the holding cells. I can feel the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into my wrists as I stand up, trying to appear strong despite the fear gnawing at my insides. Dad’s gaze shifts between Kristen’s disheveled state and my tense expression before settling on the bag Carlos holds out to him.
“Found this on Jesse’s bike,” Carlos explains, opening the bag to reveal the bricks of heroin inside. “He claims it isn’t Kristen’s fault.”
I brace myself for the storm that is about to hit, knowing full well that my father will never tolerate drugs in his club. As he stares at the bag’s contents, his face morphs into a mask of pure fury.
“Jesse!” he bellows, his anger echoing off the walls. “What the fuck is this?”
“Look, Dad, I can explain—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a glare that chills me to my core.
“Explain? You better have a damn good explanation, boy. The Savage Angels don’t run drugs anymore. We’re clean.”
Not wanting to get my sister in trouble, I say nothing.
“Please, Dad,” Kristen whispers, her voice barely audible. “It’s not Jesse…”
“Silence!” he roars, causing her to flinch. “You’ve brought shame on the club and our family, Jesse. You’re damn lucky Carlos is willing to give you a second chance.”
My stomach churns, knowing I have let my father down—the one man who’s always been there for me. It is all too clear I have no choice but to face the consequences of my actions, even if it means losing everything I hold dear.
Carlos sighs heavily as he looks at the bag of heroin. “I’ll destroy this, Dane,” his voice is stern yet tired. “No charges for Jesse or Kristen, but you need to get your house in order.”
“Thank you, Carlos,” Dad replies, his expression a mix of gratitude and frustration. He turns to Kristen, guiding her out of the cell with a firm hand. “Let’s go, princess.”
As the sound of their footsteps echoes down the hallway, I am left alone with Carlos. The sheriff shakes his head and leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
“Jesse…” he says, meeting my eyes with a hard stare, “… it’s about time you let Kristen pay the price for her mistakes instead of covering for her.”
The weight of his words settles on me like a lead blanket, but I remain silent, unable to form a response that would make any difference.
When Dad returns, his eyes bore into me with an intensity that makes me feel small. A rare occurrence for someone who’s grown up under the watchful gaze of the Savage Angels’ president.
“Go to the clubhouse,” he orders, his voice tight with restrained anger. “I’m takin’ Kristen home.”
“All right, Dad.” I rise from the cold bench, and Carlos undoes my handcuffs, then I head for the exit. The walk back to the compound takes me less than ten minutes. I can’t shake the feeling that things are about to change and not for the better.
Taking the steps two at a time, I enter the clubhouse.
Rebel is sitting alone at a table, and he smiles at me. “Jesse, what brings you out so early?”
“Reb, can you give me a lift back to my bike? The sheriff picked me up for speeding, and it’s on the outskirts of town.”
Rebel laughs. “Did he give you a ticket? Your old man is going to be pissed.”
“You have no idea.”
Rebel gives me a strange look but asks me nothing further as we walk out to his bike. The ride back to my Harley is thankfully uneventful. Climbing off Rebel’s bike, I mount mine, and we ride back to the clubhouse.
Carlos’ words are swirling around in my head.
Am I really doing Kristen any favors by constantly shielding her from the consequences of her actions? Or am I just making everything worse?
The truth hits me like a punch to the gut—I have failed Kristen and the club. And now, it is time to face whatever punishment my father has in store for me.
When we pull up at the clubhouse, Rebel’s cell phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket and frowns.