Page 56 of Kiwi

Kiwi

It's been days since Piper, and I made our relationship known, and still, from across the table, Nova refuses to look my way. When he does, it's a murderous stare. He'll come around. I let those words play over again in my head. As for the rest of my brothers, there's a bit of tension, but that is a direct result of the negative energy whenever Nova and I are in the same proximity.

I divert my eyes. Looking out the window, I stare out at the river and watch the rain pelting against the surface of the water. I'm feeling a little edgy this morning. Riggs called church, and I can only assume he finally heard something back from Cowboy. Even though it appears the smoke has cleared and the possibility of retaliation from killing a bunch of sex traffickers and blowing up there campsite is becoming less of a threat, I haven't pushed Donovan far from my thoughts.

"Everyone is here." Riggs looks around the room. "Everest, close the door." We wait to hear what our President has to say while he takes his seat. Riggs lights a cigarette then clears his throat. "I know you men have been waiting for word on the shit that went down the other night," he pauses a beat, before his eyes land on me. "Kiwi, let me be the first to say, your intuition about Donovan was correct." The moment Riggs confirms who is to blame for all the hell Piper and the other women went through, my blood boils. I breathe in and out, calming the storm brewing inside me. All I want is the opportunity to see him one final time and put a bullet in his worthless head. I look around the table at my brothers. All but one has their eyes trained on me, and it fucking hurts, but I suck it up.

"Is he alive?" I question.

"He is," Riggs says, nodding. "He hasn't popped up on anyone's radar for eleven years because he uses several aliases. As far as the world knows, Donovan Black drowned in a boating accident off the coast of Florida seven years ago."

He faked his own death?

"Where is the bastard now?" Nova finally speaks.

Opening his cut, Riggs pulls his phone from the inside pocket. "Yesterday at 0100, in alliance with the FBI, Cowboy and the other members of the Ops team took down, and effectively apprehended Donovan, along with Marco Bianchi on their attempt to flee the country." Riggs swipes his phone screen, then slides it to his right where Wick sits. "Bianchi is already singing like a canary and beggin' for a plea deal. From what Cowboy hears, this guy was directly involved with kidnapping every woman at the party that night. He's willing to identify every single female loaded into that shipping container." The room falls silent for a beat as we absorb the information. "Anyway, Cowboy is still in the process of getting more intel to us, but he did send this image as proof." Wick looks at the phone, then slides it to Nova, who stares at the screen long and hard before sliding it across the table. Reaching out, I pull Riggs' phone closer and stare down at an image of Donovan, in a power suit, with his hands cuffed behind his back, as he is led from a private jet. His cold eyes are looking directly at the person snapping the photo, and it feels as though he is staring right at me. He looks the same, and part of me is sickened that I look so much like him. I slide the phone to Fender, who then passes it to Everest.

"So how do they plan on making an indictment stick with only hearsay? It's one criminal's word against another," Wick asks.

"Sorry, brother. If you're askin' me for more information than what I just said, I can't give it to you because I don't have it. The Feds are tight-lipped on this case, even though they had outside help." Riggs snubs his cigarette out in the ashtray.

Donovan getting the chance to stand trial may be retribution for some, but not in my eyes. The man deserves a fate worse than his freedom being stripped from him and rotting behind bars. I know as well as everyone, there is always the possibility he could walk. There are cracks in the judicial system. It only takes one piece of evidence to go missing or one juror to throw a conviction out the window. The only thing Donovan deserves is a lengthy stay in the deepest depths of hell. I won't be satisfied until he's put six feet under. "What about our involvement?" I ask. We've been lookin' over our shoulders for days, and like me, I'm sure the rest of us would like to get back to normal and move on with our lives without havin' our family in potential danger.

Riggs' eyes train on Nova, and I can tell from the look on his face I won't like what he has to say. "They're willin' to look the other way in exchange for Piper's testimony. If they get enough surviving victims, to take the stand, and Bianchi will positively identify her as one of the women lured in that night, it will strengthen their case against Donovan."

"Piper has been through enough," Nova states.

So many thoughts are swirling around in my head, but one idea is evident amongst all the others. "I'll testify against him," I blurt out. Nova finally lifts his eyes to my face. He looks at me, not through me. He's schooling his expression well, so I can't quite read what he is thinking.

Riggs leans forward in his seat. "You sure? A decision like that not only puts your face and name out there, but it shines a light on the club as well."

"I'm willing to take that risk if my brothers are willing to do the same," I tell him. My brothers share glances, and it doesn't take but a second for all of them to answer.

Fender. "I'm in."

Everest. "I'm in."

Wick. "I've got your back, brother."

Riggs. "I'm in."

Nova is the last to answer. "I'm in."

"We stand together." Riggs looks around the table with pride. "They still may want Piper to take the stand," Riggs clarifies.

"We all know Piper. She is strong and will do whatever it takes to rid the world of a monster like Donovan and Bianchi. But, that's her choice to make, and hers alone." I look around the table before saying, "Call Cowboy and have him tell the Feds I'll take the stand against my birth father." I hold firm with the choice I have made, and remember what Pop said to us the other night about how every choice we make changes our lives. I've been through a lot of shit and fought a lot of battles beside my brothers. I'm grateful that the club is not willing to back down from yet another fight once again.

A few hours later, I'm at the shop working on a customer's bike. Our new hire Catcher is changing the oil in a lady's car on the other side of the shop. I smirk at how forward she is when she asks him if he's as good with his hands in the bedroom. He's a big tattooed guy. Hell, he's taller than Everest, and broader too. His response to her comment is a grunt. Catcher doesn't speak much and keeps to himself. I can't complain because he's excellent at his job. Before he applied, Catcher was straight forward with his background, but the club dug into his past a little further. Catcher is thirty years old. For the past five years, he's been behind bars, serving a sentence for voluntary manslaughter. The short story is that he shot and killed the man who murdered his wife and unborn child during a home invasion. Damn. I feel sorry for the guy. He lost everything that day. His wife. His kid. His freedom.

Catcher had been turned away from several job opportunities up until the day he walked into our shop. People are too fucking judgmental if you ask me. Not one person wanted to hire him based on his earlier incarceration. He wasn't looking for pity or a handout. All Catcher needs is a hand up and an opportunity to rebuild his life. And it wouldn't hurt if people showed him a little compassion either. It also turned out he had no home to go back to after they set him free. During his time in prison, he lost his house too. That's where Riggs stepped in. He gave Catcher a place to lay his head for awhile, giving him a room at the clubhouse.

The rumble of a bike pulls my attention away from my task. Looking out the open bay door, I watch Nova pull into the parking lot. He sits on his bike for a few minutes before turning off the engine. He strolls up to me. "You got a minute?" Hearing his voice, Chance, who's been strolling around the shop, makes a beeline for my brother. Nova kneels, giving Chance an ear rub before standing.

"Yeah." Placing the socket wrench into the toolbox beside me, I pull a bandana from my pocket and wipe the grease from my hands. "Catcher," I call across the shop as I'm heading inside. "Keep an eye on things, will ya?" He gives me a tight nod, then goes about his business.

Nova and Chance follow me inside, where we walk into my office. Nova closes the door and takes a seat on the black leather sofa across from my desk. Squatting, I unhook all the restraints from Chance's wheelchair and lift his backside. "There you go, boy. Go take a lay down for a spell." I pat him and set his wheelchair off to the side.

"You're really good at taking care of him," Nova mentions as I settle onto my chair.