After a few seconds Dax seemed to come out of the trance he was in and told the two prospects with him, “Put him in the jacuzzi.” Then he went up the steps toward Symone and the woman. Symone hugged him. Angel could see the girl’s pretty face over Dax’s shoulder and even though her face was stained with tears, she looked happy. Dax finally stepped away from her and then Angel watched as he led them both inside. Angel didn’t get to see or hear what happened next with Dax. Instead she filmed the prospects, whom she was fond of, destroying evidence. She alternated between watching and filming as they heaved the man’s big body into the jacuzzi, and then one of them went over to the van and came back with a bottle of bleach. Handsome, Clay, and a guy Angel had recently met named Pablo picked up what looked like a heavy wooden lid and placed it on top of the jacuzzi. There were four padlocks on it and the men went around and locked each one. Angel didn’t see where the gun or the silencer had gone. Maybe Dax still had it. Shit. What a fucking mess. She followed the pack of bikes and the van onto an on-ramp and then she reached for her phone. She pressed in David’s number. When he picked it up she said:

“I need you to remember how many secrets I’ve kept for you over the years.”

“Shit. What do you want, Angel?”

“Swear to me on Mom’s grave you won’t tell Kyle or anyone at all what I’m about to ask you to do for me.”

“Angel…”

“Swear.”

“Fine. I swear. Now what?”

“I need you to find out everything you can about Bobby Stack’s family, mainly his brother Frank.”

“Who is…the guy that got Dad shot?”

“Yeah. I need the information fast, especially what you know about his brother Frank, who lives in New Hampshire.”

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Angel?”

“Please, David, just do this for me…and one more thing…”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t do it on the server at work.”

“Shit! Why not?”

“Just trust me.” She didn’t want David being questioned down the road when that body was found. She was already putting him in a bad spot, asking him to do it for her.

“Fine. I’ll get back to you.”

“Soon.”

He didn’t answer that. He ended the call and Angel was once again left with her thoughts as she kept her eyes trained on the van about five car lengths in front of her. Angel saw the “Welcome to Vermont” sign and suddenly realized she’d driven for the past hour or so in a complete fog. She just couldn’t get that image of Dax’s face out of her head. This entire time as she’d been falling in love with him, that was the one thing she used to justify it…he wasn’t a killer. Now she no longer had that. Now she’d have to turn these tapes over to the FBI and watch Dax be taken to prison, for life. She wished so badly that she knew what that was about. Would it matter? Would knowing that Bobby’s brother “had it coming,” for one reason or other, make it justifiable in her mind? Would it erase the memory of that hard, cold look in the blue eyes she loved so much?

She followed them to a cute little Victorian house in Vermont, right near the U.S./Canadian border. They didn’t spend a lot of time at the house; they just parked their bikes and van in a big barnlike structure out back and they all piled into an SUV with Canadian plates. They had left Symone with the woman in New Hampshire…and the dead body…but Angel didn’t want to think about that again until she had to. So, eight men piled into the SUV: Dax, Handsome, Clay, Pablo, Nolan, and three prospects. Angel debated going down to the legal crossing as she waited for them to cross the open one on Church Avenue. She saw all their heads disappear, except for the prospect who was driving. She looked up at the camera attached to the pole and, once again telling herself that she’d deal with consequences later, she drove across. She was in a country where she had no jurisdiction, carrying a weapon she had no legal right to carry in Canada, and chasing a murderer that she was in love with. David was right. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

“Hey, Dax, you alright?” Dax looked up from the lawn chair he was sitting in next to the crackling fire. Handsome was looking down at him. He reached for the other chair and pulled it up alongside Dax. He waited until Dax finally said:

“Yeah, I’m good.” From where he sat he could barely hear the low rumble of the loud music and voices coming from inside the clubhouse where they were bedding down for the night. There was a little bar attached to it and that’s where the party was happening. Dax had been in anything but a party mood by the time they’d gotten back after their search. He saw the bonfire, grabbed himself a beer, and for the past half an hour, he’d been enjoying his solitude, and then Handsome came looking for him.

“Everyone was asking where you went.”

“I’m right here. I just needed to breathe for a minute.”

“They won’t ever trace that piece of shit to you. By the time Aggie dies and that property is sold, he’ll be nothing but dust.”

Dax nodded. “I’m not worried about that.” He hadn’t been thinking about the man he’d shot that afternoon, at least not at that moment.

“You’ve been awfully subdued, sitting here by yourself while everyone else is partying it up in there.”

After they made it to Canada and Dax’s meeting with the president of their Quebec chapter, they had gone from place to place until the sun went down, asking questions about Hawk and the rest of the Sinners. They were places that the Quebec chapter had been told “bikers” were hanging around, but bikers with no colors. It must be killing Hawk that he can’t show off who he is, Dax thought, but thankfully he still has a big mouth. They’d gotten some good leads to follow up but they had called it a night because Dax wanted the advantage of both surprise and daylight when they found them. They were staying at the “Frenchies’” clubhouse, as they referred to their Quebec chapter.

“I’m just…I’m tired, Hand.”

“Tired? I can tell those assholes in there to keep it down if you need to get some rest.”

“No. Not that kind of tired. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of having all this responsibility. I’m tired of everyone coming to me when there’s a problem and expecting me to fix it…and I’m tired of fixing it and feeling like shit about what I have to do…I want more than this, Hand.”

Handsome was looking at him like he had grown another head. Dax loved his club. He loved his brothers and their families, and he’d proven once again that very day that he’d do anything for them. He was the one person that Handsome and everyone else would have never suspected would want to leave the club, and Dax knew that. “Is this about your old lady?” Handsome asked him.

“I guess, some. But it’s not like it’s something she’s asking or pressuring me to do,” he said. “This shit is just between you and me, okay?”

“You know it,” Handsome said.

“I think I’d like to have a regular life with her. She’s not like these other women that hang around the club, Hand. I know the girls all have their jobs and everything now, and we’re not just keeping the dumb ones around for the sake of a mouth or a pussy to come in any longer, but these are still women that mostly grew up in the culture or recovering addicts that wandered in with nowhere else to go. Angel’s not like that. I get the feeling that she’s not really going to be happy in the long run, without some stability…a house, kids, a man with a real job.”

Handsome started to laugh but stopped when he saw the look on Dax’s face. “I’m sorry, Dax, but really? What would you do?”

“I know how to do more than ride a bike and shoot a gun, you know? I’ve kept that ranch running for the past fifteen years. I’ve helped build most of the buildings on it with my own hands. We’ve done all the plumbing and electrical work, tiling, painting…hell, I could build a fucking house from the ground up.”

Handsome nodded. “Okay, point taken. But a contractor, or a farmer? I’m not judging, buddy, but please think hard about this before you jump into it. There is nothing wrong with being a contractor or a farmer, but can you even imagine how boring that would be on a day-to-day basis? Man, you and I were raised on adrenaline. Even when we were kids, we were always doing something for that next rush. How are you going to live without that?”

“Angel gives me an adrenaline rush.”

“Man, you have it bad. You’re in love with this chick, aren’t you?”

“Quit calling her ‘this chick.’ Her name is Angel. Use it.”

“Sorry,” Handsome said again. “Dax, since I’m the only one in this club with the balls to say this to your face, I’m just gonna say it. What do you really know about her? I mean, really? Before you do this, please at least have her checked out. Put one of Nathan’s investigators on her for a week. Have them record her conversations and see where she goes during the day when you’re not with her. You have to do at least that much, man, before you give up your whole lifestyle for this…for Angel.”

Dax wasn’t pissed. He knew if the shoe were on the other foot that he’d be giving Handsome the same advice. He wanted to believe that everything Angel told him about herself was the God’s honest truth, but his gut told him different. He still believed that she might have had something to do with that whole fiasco in transporting the coins. But despite all of that, he was beyond being able to picture his life without her. “I guess you’re right. It’ll put everyone’s mind at ease. I’m going to talk to her again first, though, and give her another chance to tell me the whole truth. I do love her, Hand, and I want to trust her.”

“I hope you know that all I wish for you is the best, man. I hope it turns out that she’s exactly who she says she is. But just in case, brother, you might want to start thinking about what you will do if you find out that she isn’t.”