The Biker's Fate Chapter 441

Finch

I walked into the main meeting room that looked so much like our own in Portland. The walls were adorned with flags and banners collected over decades. The spoils of rallies and runs of the past. Harley calendars dating back to before models had fake tits were pinned up here and there.

Alamo was standing by the window, a drink in his hand, and a scowl on his face, and that scowl was directed at the chapter president.

"We don't know that for sure," Doc said.

"Like hell we don't," Alamo growled. "Dalton said these aren't copycats, so what other conclusion can we come to?"

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We don't know just yet because we don't have all the information," Doc said, aiming his words at Alamo even more than me. "Dalton Moore, our guy who still has an 'in' at the F.B.I., reached out to Alamo today. He wanted to give us a head's up that two bodies have been found that appear to be in connection with the Gentleman Strangler."

"Jesus, Thomas Ellis killed even more women?" I asked.

Doc and Alamo exchanged a look before Doc continued. "That's the thing. These are new murders.

"New? But how? Thomas is dead. Alamo shot him," I said.

"Thanks for the fuckin' news flash Walter Cronkite," Alamo said before taking a shot of bourbon.

"Don't be a dick to the kid," Doc said. "All we know is that two more bodies have been found, one in our area, and one in Beaver County, Oklahoma. Dalton wouldn't give us much more information, but the F.B.I. is convinced these killings are related, and that they are not the work of a copycat."

"So, what does that mean?" I asked.

"It fuckin' means I killed the wrong man," Alamo grunted while pouring another drink.

"Ease up, Alamo," Doc said.

"Pretty fucking sure you didn't kill the wrong man," I retorted.

"First of all," Doc continued. "Thomas was a piece of shit and was definitely involved in the murders, if not a direct participant. The F.B.I. has way too much evidence to say otherwise, not to mention everything we know about him personally."

"Then who the hell killed these women?" Badger asked.

"And what did we miss?" Alamo followed up.

"We didn't miss anything," Doc said.

"Then, how the fuck do we explain two more women being raped and murdered in the exact same fashion after I put a bullet into that sick fuck? There's obviously someone else out there who's working with Thomas. Hell, as far as we know, he's the one that's been in charge this whole time. Jasmine could be in danger all over again and we don't even have the slightest clue who we should be protecting her from!" Alamo shouted and launched his glass across the room, causing it to shatter into pieces against the back wall.

"For fuck's sake Alamo!" Doc bellowed and shielded his eyes from the flying shards. "We're all concerned here."

"I'm far from concerned, Doc," Alamo said. "I'm pissed off that piece of shit Thomas is fucking with Jasmine from the grave, and I'm pissed off that there's another one of these sick bastards out there."

"Then let's figure out what we're gonna do about it," Doc said.

Remington

Merrick texted to tell me he was gonna be a while, so I decided to clean his room. Pulling on a pair of sweats, I stepped into the hallway to see if I could find some sheets but ran into Jasmine instead.

"Hey," she said. "I was just coming to find you."

"You were?" I asked.

"A couple of us are watching a movie. Want to join?"

"I take it, this "all-hands" is going to take a while?"

"They usually do."

I smiled. "Then, I'd love to watch a movie. Let me grab my phone."

I walked back into Merrick's room and threw on a bra, grabbed my phone, and slid on a pair of his socks before following Jasmine downstairs and into a huge movie room.

"Oh my god, Remington Charles?"

I squinted my eyes in the dim light. "Quinlan Westgate?"

My old friend pulled me in for a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"She's with Finch," Jasmine provided.

"Grace's brother?"

"Yes," I said.

"Is he here?"

"Yes," I said again.

Quin smiled. "Well, that sounds like a story and a half…maybe we should wait to start the movie."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Well, that's also a story and a half…"

The movie was paused, the wine was poured, and we filled each other in until our men came to find us two hours later.

Finch

"And he hit her, Merrick. Beat her to shit over and over again."

My woman was drunk. And emotional. And currently pacing my room raging at Quin's ex-husband who was a piece of shit.

"Yeah, honey, I know," I said, handing her a bottled water.

Our meeting had wrapped up an hour ago and we'd headed into the media room to find our women crying. All of them. Four bottles of wine annihilated, and five women all gathered around Quinlan, sobbing as they hugged her.

I'd peeled Remington away from the group, led her upstairs, and was currently trying to figure out how to get her to calm down and hydrate.

"Why didn't you stop it?" she snapped.

"Baby, I wasn't here. I just know that shit went down with her and her ex. Alamo and Badger ran him out of town."

"He raped her, Merrick. More than once. And you said you'd leave."

"When?"

"When you got here. You said if I told you to leave, you would have," she cried. "Did you mean it?"

I smiled gently. "What do you think?"

"I think you would have broken down any door and busted through any wall that kept me from you."

"Yeah, baby. You're right."

"I know I'm right," she said with a sniff. "I'm always right. I'm the fucking queen."