Meredith Jamison was a powerhouse in heels if Hawk had ever seen one.

In her white button-down shirt hidden behind a silky-looking black pants suit that hugged her barely there curves, her shiny black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, her hard and all-knowing brown eyes, and an expression as unyielding as her tone, she was a woman who gave the impression that she could take on the world, bring it to its knees, and make it her bitch.

Which was great.

Fucking perfect.

She was the kind of lawyer Hawk needed if he wanted to avoid spending his golden years behind bars.

Out of all the club’s affiliations with lawyers over the years, she was by far the best. She worked as hard as she looked and had gone to bat for them many times before, getting a couple of the boys’ sentences drastically reduced, as well as seeing that a few of them served no jail time at all.

That wouldn’t be the case here. Hawk knew he’d be serving jail time, but how long remained to be seen.

“Mr. Polachev,” she said, moving away from the wall to lean against the edge of Deuce’s desk. “You may only be wanted in connection to your father’s crimes, but as you know, most of the members of the Polachev cartel are wanted internationally for quite an extensive list of illegal activity, the least of which was drug running or weapons smuggling. The FBI has tracked them as the suppliers of several explosives used in bombing incidents across the country. Let’s not forget human trafficking. If we walk into FBI headquarters announcing that you’re the long-lost son of Avgust Polachev, and your only knowledge of the cartel is nearly twenty years old, they’re not going to be offering you any deals. You’re going to be locked up in a maximum security prison and left to rot.”

Hawk already knew that, and if the plan Deuce and Preacher had concocted fell through, that was exactly what he would end up doing. Rotting.

“What if I can give them Yevgeniy Polachev?” he asked quietly.

Meredith’s gaze flickered from him to Deuce, who gave her a single nod in response.

“Just like that?” she asked, surprised. “You’d become a rat?”

Deuce shrugged. “He started it,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ Russian motherfucker blackmailin’ me with one of my own boys.”

“How very mature of you all,” Meredith responded, folding her arms across her chest.

“Mature or not,” Hawk said, “it could work. We can fill in the FBI on the details of the Horsemen’s next pickup, and the Feds can storm the place, taking everyone down. Horsemen too.”

“Yeah,” Deuce interjected. “But let’s not forget I want it in writing that this is all for fuckin’ show, and ain’t none of my boys are actually gonna get charged with anything. The Feds get Yenny and his men, the cartel can keep its business with the clubs I got lined up for them, and everyone lives happily ever fuckin’ after. You feel me?”

Meredith smirked, her first semblance of a smile since she’d arrived at the club. “I do indeed feel you, Mr. West. If you’re handing Yevgeniy Polachev over on a silver platter, I’m sure I can work out a deal where none of your boys will be actually charged . . . except Mr. Polachev, of course.” She looked to Hawk.

“Of course,” Hawk muttered, annoyed by her continued use of a last name he no longer cared to remember.

“As for sentencing,” she continued, “with your help in your uncle’s arrest, I’m 85% sure I could plead your charges down to aiding and abetting, resulting in a reduced sentence of five to ten years behind bars. But that’s only if the federal attorney agrees, and from what I’ve heard, he’s the least agreeable man on the planet.”

It was Hawk’s turn to smirk. “Really?” he asked. “Have you met my prez?”

“Touché,” she said, straightening. Her heels clicked against the cement floor as she crossed the room. Grabbing both her purse and briefcase, she headed toward the doors.

“I’ll be in touch soon,” she said without looking back.

As she opened the doors, the sounds of the party going on outside Deuce’s office filled the air, a good-bye party for Hawk that the boys had decided to throw in his honor. As the doors closed behind her, cutting off the sounds of music and laughter, Hawk envisioned a prison cell door slamming shut, cutting him off from the world entirely.

And to think he’d once thought he didn’t have shit in this world. In reality, he’d had so much. More than most.

“I ain’t never served any real time, just a few short stints here and there, nothin’ more than a few months,” Deuce said as he got up out of his chair and rounded his desk. Coming to sit beside Hawk on the couch, he sighed heavily. “Thanks to Mick,” he finished, rolling his eyes.

“But you’ll do okay. Just keep your head down, keep your mouth shut, and if you have to, if someone’s got a beef with you, fall in line with a crew that’ll have your back. And you run into any real problems, you let me know. Preacher’s got eyes all over the damn place. Whatever joint you end up in, I’m sure Preacher knows someone who knows someone who knows someone, and I’ll take care of that shit real quick.”

Hawk couldn’t tell if it was him that Deuce was trying to convince that everything was going to be all right, or himself. But he didn’t doubt the man for a minute. After all, it was Deuce who had his own father put down while in the joint. Had him shanked in the showers.

And wasn’t Hawk happy he’d done just that. Without the fortunate death of Reaper West, who knew what the hell would have happened to him, Cox, Ripper, or Dirty? Reaper certainly wouldn’t have done a couple of homeless teenagers any favors.

While killing your own father might seem to others the actions of a cruel, coldhearted man, it had been Reaper who’d been cruel and Deuce anything but. He was just a man who did what he had to do to keep surviving. He made his own rules, lived his own way, and anyone who fucked with him or what was his . . .

Somehow, someday, Deuce would serve them their punishment.

“Speaking of takin’ care of shit,” Hawk said. “What are you gonna do about the Vegas boys, or . . .” He hesitated, not wanting to bring up the biggest traitor of them all, but it didn’t matter. Deuce knew exactly who he was talking about.

“They’ve all been stripped,” Deuce said. “Can’t do much else while they’re in bed with the cartel, but you know the Russians, they never like to keep outsiders on the inside for too long. Liabilities. One way or another, they’ll all be goin’ to ground.

“As for ZZ,” Deuce continued, his jaw hardening to the point where Hawk could see his facial muscles twitching. “I don’t give two fucks who he thinks is protectin’ him. I ain’t gonna stop lookin’ and when I find him, I’m goin’ to rip his fuckin’ heart out.”

Deuce’s nostrils flared, his cold blue eyes burning with vehemence. “He shot my boy, he betrayed me, and then this shit with you . . .”

Resting on his knees, Deuce’s fists clenched.

“He still loves her,” Hawk said.

Deuce’s head jerked, his eyes flicking to Hawk. “Danny?” he asked.

Hawk nodded. “Gathered that much after he shot me, before he started beatin’ the fuckin’ shit outta me. Didn’t really want to spell it all out in front of Ripper.”

Deuce’s expression seemed to slacken some, but the underlying anger remained. “Don’t matter,” he growled. “You been pinin’ after D all these years, and you didn’t start shootin’ up your brothers.”

Hawk bit back a laugh. There were times when he’d wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in Jase’s spoiled, selfish, useless brain. But hurting Dorothy was something he’d never been able to stomach, and killing Jase . . . Well, no matter her feelings for the man, it would have hurt her.

“Fuck all this woman talk,” Deuce suddenly spat, pushing himself off the couch. Grabbing Hawk’s crutches, Deuce held out his arm for him to take. “You got a party goin’ on out there, and people wantin’ to see you.”

Hawk grabbed hold of Deuce’s offered arm and with a good bit of struggling, managed to stand up. While he balanced on his good leg, Deuce shoved the crutches under his arms. It took Hawk a moment to adjust to them, having never used them before recently, but it was either use the crutches or be stuck in a wheelchair, and crutches seemed a hell of a lot more appealing than trying to maneuver around on fucking wheels.

Deuce was about to open the doors when a loud knock sounded from the opposite side, making the wood vibrate.

Hawk took a limping step backward as Deuce pulled the doors open, revealing . . . Jase.

“You’re back,” Deuce said.

“I . . . uh . . .” Jase’s gaze flickered to Hawk, who held his gaze with narrowed eyes. Dorothy had explained to him what had transpired between the two of them. He knew that Dorothy had slept in Jase’s bed, and ended up kissing him good-bye the next morning. But even knowing that had been their last kiss, Hawk wasn’t happy about it. Not that he’d had any claim on Dorothy at that point in time, but he did now and he couldn’t help but feel a little territorial. Or maybe a lot territorial.

Looking between the two of them, Deuce ushered Jase inside before giving Hawk a grim smile and a slap on the back.

“Go,” Deuce said, pointing to the room beyond his office.

As Hawk hobbled through the doorway, he knew there was nothing on this earth aside from a bullet to the brain or a fatal drug overdose that was going to make him forget about what was coming, but as he was greeted with grins and shouts and cheers, bottles being held up in the air, and the sad smile of a pretty little redhead, he could almost forget.

Almost.

• • •

Even before Jase watched Hawk limp across the room, heading straight for Dorothy, grabbing her in a one-armed hug and yanking her against his body to lay a kiss on her that would have made porn stars blush, he’d already known something had happened between the two of them.

Whereas Hawk and he might have a history of disliking each other, they usually spent the very little time they were forced to spend in the same room together ignoring each other. Not since the day Hawk had showed up at the hospital, informing them all that Dorothy’s baby was his and then beating Jase senseless, had Hawk given him the time of day.

Until today. As soon as he’d seen Jase, his hard expression had hardened further. Even injured, the man had squared his shoulders, rising to his full height. It was the human equivalent of an animal sensing a threat, and Hawk’s figurative hackles had risen.

As they’d stared at each other, Jase had felt an unspoken tension begin building between them, worse than it had ever been before. Yeah, something was very different this time, and once he saw that kiss . . .

Deuce shut the doors with a slam and Jase closed his eyes. He’d felt that kiss, felt that shit all the way down to his toes. No smack down Hawk could have ever laid on him, verbally or physically, would make him feel worse than seeing the woman who’d once put him on a damn pedestal, had faithfully waited on him to choose her for years—

Wait. Scratch that shit. She hadn’t been faithful. Not even close. But he couldn’t even bring himself to be pissed about it. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Even so, seeing her publicly claimed by another man made him feel like shit.

“Reel it in,” Deuce muttered, “and sit the fuck down. I got a fuck of a lot of shit to fill your sorry ass in on.”

As Deuce headed for his desk, Jase dropped into an armchair and sighed. “’Bout that shit, Prez, I don’t think you should be tellin’ me anything.”

Deuce took his seat, but instead of leaning forward onto his desk like he usually would, he pushed back, folded his arms across his chest, and stared blankly at Jase.

“Yeah?” Deuce asked. “And why’s that? You quittin’ me?”

“I got kids that won’t fuckin’ talk to me,” Jase said, beginning to worry about whether Deuce was going to let him retire in good standing, or boot his ass out of here for being a quitter and force him to cover up his club tattoos.

“Been with you a long time, Prez,” he said nervously. “Half my damn life, just about. I gotta go. I ain’t got no choice. Gotta make this shit right with my girls.”

“So that’s where you’re headed, then? Upstate? Near the college?”

Jase simply nodded.

Unfolding his arms, Deuce sat up and yanked open a drawer that Jase couldn’t see into. He pulled out a pack of smokes, shook one out of the box, and lit it up.

Jase glanced to the door, expecting Eva to charge in here and begin busting the man’s balls, but when nothing happened, he shrugged and looked back to Deuce.

“Don’t give me any bullshit,” Deuce grumbled. “I got two of my boys leavin’ me, think I deserve a fuckin’ smoke.”

Jase wanted to ask who else was leaving, but decided against it. If Deuce allowed him to pull out on good standing, he’d technically still be a member, just a retired one. And being retired from an MC was a hell of a lot like military service—you could be called back to duty at any time if you were needed.

“Ahhh.” Deuce sighed as a long stream of gray smoke poured from between his lips. “Fuckin’ beautiful shit right there.”

Jase stayed silent, letting the man enjoy his cigarette as he glanced around the office for what was more than likely going to be the last time. The thought of leaving, saying good-bye to everything he knew was terrifying, yet at the same time there was a tiny part of him that felt . . . excited at the idea of starting over.

Deuce abruptly stood up, jerking Jase’s attention back to him. “Hand over your cut,” he said, and Jase’s stomach sank.

Slowly he pushed himself out of the chair, and even more slowly, he let the black leather vest slide from his shoulders. He turned, catching it before it could fall to the floor. Then, clutching it in his hands, he stared down at it a moment, at the patches on it, thinking of the million memories such a small scrap of material contained.

“Picture stays on the wall,” Deuce said, regaining Jase’s attention. “Colors stay on your skin. And I ever need your ass, you’re back here faster than shit stains a white fuckin’ carpet, you feel me?”

After stubbing his cigarette out, Deuce headed back around the desk and toward him. Holding out his hand, he said, “Give it here.”

Looking at Deuce, Jase was reminded of his father. Despite aging better than his old man had, Deuce had been like a father to Jase. Saying good-bye to him felt like losing a family member.

Still, he handed over the vest, and once it was in Deuce’s hand, the man turned around and pointed to where Blue’s cut was hanging on the wall above his desk, encased in glass and framed.

“It’s goin’ there, brother,” he said. “You’ll be in good fuckin’ company.”

It was both surprising and heartwarming. To have his cut hung on Deuce’s wall, and near Blue’s, no less? That was an honor of epic proportions, and one given to very few brothers. Jase wasn’t being dismissed or cut off, not at all. He was simply moving on in a way that was reminiscent of leaving your parents’ home once you were old enough, once it was finally time.

And it was time for Jase to move on.

“Thanks, Prez,” Jase said quietly.

“Deuce,” he said, turning back to him and holding out his hand. “My name is Deuce, brother.”

Jase clasped the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake that ended with Deuce pulling him forward into a quick hug. He’d barely had enough time to feel surprised when he was suddenly being pushed away and Deuce was jerking his chin toward the door.

“There’s a fuckin’ party goin’ on out there. Go say good-bye to the boys.”

Jase knew when he was being booted, but he also knew that Deuce, judging by the man’s expression, was only doing so because he needed a moment alone. Whatever was going on that had him hurting, Jase had only added to it.

“And Jase?”

Looking back at Deuce, he arched an eyebrow in question.

Deuce smiled grimly. “Some of the boys might not like what you’re doin’, leavin’ the club and all, but don’t pay ’em no mind. Ain’t nothin’ more important than family. Took me a long fuckin’ time to figure that shit out.”

Closing his eyes, Jase took a deep breath. When he opened them, he gave Deuce a long, hard look, willing himself to be strong. Strong like Deuce always was.

“Thanks, brother.”

“Now go,” Deuce ordered, turning away from him. “Get to livin’ again.”

Jase’s muscles tensed and his jaw locked up tight. He wasn’t going to be a pussy now; he was going to walk out those doors, his head held high, proud of what he was finally getting around to doing. His fucking emotions, goddamn them, were not going to get the better of him this time.

Wrapping his hand on the doorknob, Jase pulled open the door.

“Fucker!” Cage yelled, pointing as he stormed towards him. “What the fuck did you do to my truck? You don’t fuck around with another man’s truck!”

“Stop whinin’!” Ripper shouted from across the room. “Your truck ain’t shit!”

“Jase!” Cox pounded on the bar. “Get your ass over here. I got stories to tell and ain’t nobody listenin’!”

Grinning, Jase closed Deuce’s office door behind him and slowly headed out into the club.

For the last time.