Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

Frowning, she tried to reconcile the man who’d saved her ass with the one Aaron described. “You said you dug into the True Outlaws. Are they still around?”

“No. The club disbanded more than a decade ago. Curly has several arrests for a multitude of charges, but almost fourteen years ago, he was arrested and convicted of murdering a preteen girl. The club fell apart after that. Many went to prison, and those that didn’t left town. Curly was sent to prison near Tallahassee but transferred to Kentucky after a few years. Some kind of budgetary issue. Here’s the kicker though, a little more than eight months ago, the case blew wide open someone discovered information about a man who’d confessed to the killing. Turns out it was a drifter with severe mental illness who killed the girl then killed himself. Details are a little fuzzy, but DNA evidence proved it. The police department mishandled the case, big time. Curly served thirteen years behind bars for that crime. Sucks he got put away for something he didn’t do, but if you ask me, he probably shoulda been there for something anyway, so it kinda comes out in the wash.”

Sucks he got put away for something he didn’t do? Was Aaron for real?

“That’s not how our justice system works, Aaron,” she shot back before thinking. They weren’t exactly friends, just business acquaintances despite the fact he’d asked her out a few times. She’d always turned him down. “We don’t just put people in jail and say, ‘I’m sure you did something to deserve being there.’ That’s thirteen years of a man’s life.” Just thinking about it had her aching to right the wrong that Curly suffered. But how did anyone give years back to a person? No matter what had been said or done to compensate for the mistakes made, nothing could give him back those years.

And that broke her heart.

Shit, she needed to shut up before she made an enemy of Aaron while supporting a man she’d met twice. Why the hell did she feel so compelled to defend him anyway? She and Curly certainly didn’t have any kind of friendship. Hell, he couldn’t even be considered an acquaintance.

But he was the man who’d agreed to help her put an end to the dog fighting.

“Our justice system? Come on, Brooke. You can’t be that naïve?”

“No, I left naïve behind years ago. Look, Aaron, I gotta run.” It was time for this conversation to end before she needed to find someone else to run her background checks.

“Brooke, I didn’t mean—”

“No hard feelings, seriously. I just have a crazy day ahead of me. Thanks for running the check and sending it on over. I’ll be thorough when I read it.” She hung up before he had a chance to respond. Her mind had already jumped ahead.

Thirteen years in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. What must have gone through his head day in and day out as he served someone else’s sentence?

In a way, she did know, didn’t she?

Maybe not a wrongful incarceration, but she knew helplessness.

She knew fear.

She knew despair.

Had it been the same for him? Trapped in a place he didn’t deserve to be? She’d walked willingly into her hell of a marriage, whereas an unjust conviction had blindsided him. Perhaps she shouldn’t compare the two, but for some reason, the knowledge of his ordeal had her feeling a kinship with him.

The rest of his story she wasn’t so comfortable thinking about.

Motorcycle clubs?

Drugs? Prostitution?

Multiple arrests?

After learning of Curly’s background, there was only one question left to ask. Was she still willing to let him help her take down Prick?

Yes. She was.

She’d do anything to keep assholes like Prick from abusing innocent animals.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HE NEEDED TO nail down a location for a clubhouse, and he needed one fast. Preferably something with more property than he had so his new pup could run around. If Brooke decided to let him adopt after seeing the background report, which would undoubtedly be full of interesting information, both true and false.

Curly glanced around his tiny kitchen, packed to the brim with six large men, including himself. Apparently, Tyler had connections all over the damn area, and those connections led to guys who were interested in MC life.

His cousin strode up to him, holding out his favorite beer. That he remembered after so long was amazing. It also gave Curly a sense of belonging he’d been searching for since moving back.

Ty’s guys had brought a few cases of the brew, which probably meant they planned to hang for a good few hours. Not a bad idea if they were potentially going to be brothers. Might as well get to know each other and see if they’d mesh.

“Sorry to spring the guys on you like this,” Tyler said with a wry grin. His green T-shirt had streaks of oil on it as though Ty had come straight from work.