Sexy as Sin

The fact that Missy went missing and his uncle claimed she was a rat and that she took off. Yet her house was cleaned out months later and she hadn’t taken anything.

“I think he set her father up. I think Missy caught on and your uncle killed her. I think we have the cops come every other fucking month because he’s slowly taking out anyone who stands in his way. I think it was supposed to be me that left when the cops came last.”

“Slow the fuck down,” Cill demands, his eyes locked on mine, his voice so low it’s barely heard. Barely moving at all, he commands, “Start from the beginning.”

With a racing heart, I swallow and tell him everything.

“When you left and her father disappeared, the charges they brought against you … her father didn’t know it all, you know? He didn’t know about the frequency of drops … it had to be someone else and Missy brought that up.” I can barely breathe remembering how it all went down, but how Eamon played it like it happened differently.

“When she disappeared, he said it made sense because she was asking questions and poking around. He said she had to be a rat.

“But the questions she was asking weren’t something a rat would want to know. She was trying to figure out who else was in on it—”

“Missy was like a second mom to me,” Cill says, his hand firmly wrapped around Kat’s.

“I know. So did your father.” His eyes whip back up to mine at the mention of his dad.

“He wasn’t with it like he was before you went away. But he never believed Missy could do that to him. I think he caught on. I think he figured it out. ’Cause they said he died of a heart attack, but I heard them fighting before that, Cill. He and your uncle were going at it. Everyone who’s questioned your uncle Eamon left shortly after. Either they died or they were a supposed rat who disappeared.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t have proof until Kat’s place got broken into.” A heat breaks out across every inch of my skin as I look at Kat. “I didn’t tell you, but I found two bricks of coke in your guest room. The same stock he had me moving during the bust. He knew Cill was getting out and he planted it and was going to wait for the perfect time.” I look back to Cill.

“It had to be Eamon. He was the only one with a key to the stock. He planted it at Kat’s place and I bet his plan was to take me down as I was moving it, and then to get you for possession, blaming it on me. Then we’re both out of his way.”

I don’t even know if what I said makes sense to them. If they’ll connect the dots like I did. “It sounds fucking crazy, but it’s the only explanation.”

My pulse races, praying they believe me. I almost add that he’s why I let Kat go. Eamon is why when she broke down and told me she couldn’t ever see me again, that’s why I let her back away. If she stayed close, he could see her as a threat too.

I was still there for her. Still someone she trusted and I would be there any time she was in need, but at a distance.

I can’t bring myself to speak about her, though. There’s too much that’s already been said.

“Say something, man,” I plead after a long moment of silence. “I’ve felt like I’m going fucking crazy and paranoid for a year now. Ever since your pops died.”

“You think my uncle sold out my father, his brother?” Cill’s voice breaks when he adds, “You think my uncle killed him?”

There’s a long moment of staring into my best friend’s eyes, telling him something there’s no way in hell he’d want to believe and having no evidence at all, only a gut feeling. “Yeah.”

“No.” He’s quick to deny it, shaking his head. Kat, though, she stares back at me, realization clear in her gaze. “No, you’re wrong.” I hear the betrayal in his voice. I felt the same thing when I figured it out. The Cavanaugh MC wasn’t about backstabbing bullshit and stealing power. It was about the bikes, and goddammit, the family. Founded by two first-generation brothers and their buddy Finn, something like this … it’s soul shattering.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but–”

“They were supposed to have each other’s backs.” He stabs his finger on the table, emphasizing his point. Readjusting in his chair, he starts to say something and then stops.

And then he does it again, choosing his words carefully. “My uncle was supposed to be the example. He’s supposed to take care of all of us. And now you’re telling me he’s turned? You’re telling me he killed my father?”