There was a lot of hot sex that morning, too.

After we showered and ate breakfast, we were summoned to the DEA field office, where we were interrogated by a seemingly endless horde of government investigators. Two days, twelve hours a day, nothing but repeating our stories ad nauseam. But Fordham was as good as his word: after the questioning was done, the DEA let us go.

As he walked us out to the parking lot, Fordham asked, “So what’s the play? You going to stay in Richards and try to rebuild the gang?”

“Motorcycle club,” Jack corrected him.

“Potato, po-tah-to.”

“Mm,” Jack grunted, then shook his head. “No, I was thinking I’d go up north and try to start over.”

I looked at him in surprise. This was the first I’d heard of it.

“There’s nothing left for me here in Richards,” Jack continued. “If I stay, I’m just the guy who sold out his club.”

“I think you mean gang,” Fordham said mischievously.

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Jack said.

Fordham chuckled.

“Speaking of starting over,” Jack added, “I could use some help. Back when he was trying to get me to come in, Peters said he’d told the insurance company I’d torched my own house and body shop, which means I couldn’t collect. Is there something you can do about that?”

“Yeah, he needs to pay his friends,” Sid said. “Me, specifically.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Fordham said.

I spoke up. “My car got burned up in the fire, too – can you – ”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Fordham said, waving us off. “I’ll put it on the list.”

I was annoyed that he was brushing it off like that. I thought of my photo book of Ali and said, “Everything we owned got burned up.”

“Yeah, well, I had a lot of evidence disappear in a fire the other day, too,” Fordham said. “A certain meth lab.”

Uh oh.

“I noticed in all your testimony that you never gave up your source for the rocket launcher,” Fordham continued.

“Just a guy from LA,” Jack lied.

“Uh-huh. That ‘guy’ wouldn’t happen to be your ex-wife, would it?”

My stomach dropped.

“No,” Jack said, keeping an admirable poker face.

“Uh-huh. Tell her and her Bastards to keep their noses clean, or I might have to come knocking on her door.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. She wasn’t part of the original deal, so I’ll let her slide – for now. You keep your nose clean, too, Pollari. I don’t ever want to run into you again, unless it’s over a cold beer at a bar someday.”

“It’s a deal,” Jack said. “What about Kade?”

“What about me?” a familiar voice asked.

As we all turned around, I cried out in delight. Kade was walking towards us stiffly. He wore jeans and a crisp white t-shirt, but with a noticeable bulge of bandages under the fabric.

Jack laughed and gave him a big hug with a couple of back slaps. “Goddamn it – you had me worried, you son of a bitch.”

“I’m a tough fucker to kill,” Kade said unemotionally as he hugged back. “I heard you are, too.”

“Thank God,” I said, and then my eyes bugged out: after Kade stopped hugging Jack, he leaned over and embraced me.

“Oh my God, Kade’s hugging me, guys!” I whispered loudly.

“Don’t get all mushy about it,” Kade said as he let go of me.

Jack asked Fordham, “So… everything’s cool with Kade, right?”

“He’s part of the deal,” the DEA agent said.

“But the rest of the club – ”

“As I told you, it’s out of my hands. If they were there at the drug buy, they’ve got to answer for it. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

Jack looked dour, but he nodded.

Fordham looked around at our group. “On behalf of the DEA, I want to thank all of you for your help. And, on a personal note, I want to thank you for myself… and for Eddie. You got the sonuvabitch behind his murder, and for that I’ll always be grateful.”

Fordham shook our hands one by one.

“So… are we free to go?” Jack asked.

“Yup. Just as soon as you give me the keys for the Escalade and the Harley.”

Dammit!

“Really?” I asked playfully. “Really?”

“They were a loan to help with the investigation. Not a gift.”

“After all we did for you guys – ”

“ – you don’t have to go to jail,” Fordham finished.

Jack and I both grumbled as we handed over the keys.

“Take care, you crazy kids,” Fordham said, then looked at Sid. “See you around, Marine.”

Sid gave him a casual salute, and Fordham walked back into the building.

“I think Eddie would want me to keep the Escalade,” I called out. “For all my trouble.”

“No he wouldn’t,” Fordham said without bothering to look back over his shoulder.

Fordham’s parting shot was funny rather than annoying – partly because it was true. Eddie had been an asshole to me, sure, but he’d been trying to bring down a bunch of psychopaths. He’d given up his life to do it. Even if I’d hated the guy at the time, he was just doing his job – and he apparently hadn’t given me up to Lou, even at the very end. He’d gone down fighting, and that was something I respected the hell out of.

Jack brought me out of my reverie. “Where should we go?”

“You’re welcome to crash at my place until you figure stuff out,” Kade offered.

“Okay, sounds good,” Jack agreed, then turned to Sid. “You mind giving us a ride, old timer?”

“Don’t think this ain’t goin’ on the bill,” Sid said as he led the way to his Oldsmobile.

“Well, it’s Friend Prices,” Jack said good-naturedly.

“Unh-unh. Friend Prices ended the other night.”

“Since when?”

“Since I had to toss Bessie off the tower.”

“…Bessie?” Jack asked, bewildered.

“His rifle,” I said.

Jack turned to Sid. “You name your guns?”

“Don’t – ” I tried to warn him.

“Just her,” Sid said. “I got her in a pawn shop in Memphis, right after the war – ”

“Which one?” Jack asked. “World War I or II?”

“The Revolutionary,” Kade added without missing a beat.

“Hardy har, you fuckin’ hippies,” Sid snapped. “One more crack like that and you’ll be walkin’ home.”