Eight
Bullseye
Two weeks later,
“Okay, settle down,” Reaper said, taking a seat. He had called church a while ago but put it off until some of the brothers could finish whatever they were working on. Now that we were all here, I just sat and listened to everyone laugh and chew the shit as if it were another fucking glorious day.
The only one missing was Ghost.
He hadn’t left his room in months, still grieving for Ari. We all felt his loss. Never in my life had I ever seen a man love a woman as much as Ghost loved Ari. It was humbling, and even I would admit to appreciating Kitty and Hailey more. Being there for them, telling them I love them more. In a way, we all did to those we cared about.
It sucked big time, that was for sure, but Ghost was still alive, and that’s all that mattered. I didn’t want to think what would have happened if he’d pulled that trigger a few months ago. That was a bad day for all of us. None of us talked about it. We couldn’t.
That night I just hugged my wife and daughter and thanked God for every second I had with them. It was all I could think to do, so I did and every night since.
“All right,” Reaper began. “Before we get down to real business, we have some petty shit that needs to be taken care of really quick. First, we have the upcoming Christmas toy drive for the town.”
Everyone grumbled.
“Boss, it’s only June. Why is the town starting the drive this early?” Player asked.
“Because last year Brian was overworked, and nobody volunteered to help. I will be damned if a child wakes up on Christmas morning without a toy under the damn tree. Not gonna happen. Not in my fucking town. This means all available brothers will participate this year. And I’m specifically talking to you, Savage.”
“What?” The big buffoon grinned. “I like kids now.”
“Whatever,” Reaper chuckled. “Just be there and help. Also, Brian has asked for volunteers for security for this year’s Fourth of July Parade. Get with him if you can help. Also, Remi wants the clubhouse cleaned again. She said we are all pigs, and there is no way in hell she will allow my kid in this place unless it’s spotless. So, let me be very clear, if I can’t see my kid, I will beat the living shit out of every one of you slobs. Do what you have to, but I want this place clean before my kid is born.
“Boss, your kid ain’t due for another four months.” Chains stated as Healer nodded.
“Exactly, I figure it will take you pigs that long to get this place cleaned. Now that’s the last of the boring shit unless anyone has anything else to add?”
When none of the brothers said a word, Reaper nodded to Phantom, who said, “Okay. Matrix, Sypher, and I have been working round the clock to figure out why Grimm went off the reservation. What we found was just…I have no words. Okay, there have been three big deposits of a mil each into his private account over the last two months, but each time the money hits, it’s bounced to an offshore account. That’s why we didn’t find it sooner. It was only by chance because Sypher set up an alert on all of his accounts for any kind of activity.”
“So, he did this for money?” Chaos asked. “That makes no sense.”
“We know, we’re still trying to piece everything together. Now, Matrix did a thorough background on Grimm, and before I read it, I am warning you now that you’re not going to like it.”
“Just get on with it,” Reaper growled. I could tell Reaper didn’t like it when we had to dig around in a brother’s past. Hell, I didn’t either. There were some things best left alone. We all deserved our own privacy, but sometimes circumstances made that damn near impossible.
“Malachi James Miller was born September 9th, 1995 in Barstow, California, to Abigail and Samson Miller. He has two biological brothers, Balthazar, the oldest, and Ezekiel, the youngest. Both are members of said club, the Golden Skulls. Now, Ghost was right when he said he came from a religious family. Abigail was a nun in training when she met Samson, giving up the nunnery to be with him. As for Samson, he too was religious, raised in the Catholic church his whole life, until his parent’s death, where he spiraled into a deep depression before joining the Skulls.
“Honestly, it was a happy home life. Mom stayed home with the kids while Dad played. I mean that Samson had an affair with a woman by the name of Shirley Owens. She was a cut-slut for the club back in the day but quickly left after discovering she was pregnant.
“Shirley had four girls with Samson. The youngest is just thirteen the oldest is twenty-three. Now here’s the part you are not going to like. When I looked into Shirley Owens, I found a restraining order against Malachi. Four of them to be exact, one for each of her daughters.”
“Please don’t say it,” Shadow moaned, his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry, Shadow, but according to two medical records and three police reports from the San Francisco P.D., your two older sisters were molested. They found semen and DNA that matched Malachi.”
“Fuck!” Shadow roared, leaving church, slamming the door behind him. I couldn’t blame him. None of us could. No one wanted to hear that their own brother molested their sisters.
“Because Malachi was underage, he didn’t serve time, and his record was sealed. Shirley moved the girls to Phoenix, Arizona, where they reside today. As for Malachi, your dad, Reaper, thought it best if he stayed within the confines of the clubhouse, so he could be watched.”
“Did Ghost know?” I asked.
“No. According to everything I found, his father and your father, Reaper, kept it from him. He never knew what his brother did. Now, Malachi did well within the club. Once he became a patched member, there was nothing on him, not even a parking ticket. Hell, he finished school and even attended college, getting a degree in Childhood Education. Graduated at the top of his class. But Matrix and Sypher refused to believe that someone a young as Malachi would just stop. History shows that once some pervert gets a taste of the nasty, they don’t quit. And they were right.
“Over the years, when the club would go on raids with the FBI to bring down traffickers, Malachi would disappear for a few days afterward. No one thought anything of it. That was until Sypher saw a pattern. Every town the FBI would hit, a woman would be found dead a week or two later. It was so damn random that nobody put it together. I have reports of women who were believed to be trafficked, gone missing, or just ran away, only to be found dead days later after the FBI and this club raided supposedly rescued them.”