Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
He was fucking alone.
I’d been there. Fuck, I’d barely survived it.
I sat next to him on the bench. “What you gonna do?”
Tanner lit another smoke, but he didn’t even bring it to his lips. Just let that fucker burn in his hands. “Fight,” he said, his voice a rasp. He looked at me. “I wasn’t lying when I joined the Hangmen. This is my home now. My place. And I’ll stand against my father, uncle, and even my brother if I have to.” He shook his head. “What they’re doing is wrong. I get that now. So I fight.”
I lifted my hand, and hesitated. Tanner must have seen the gesture; he tensed. Then, breathing through the memories of that night, of the pictures, of the hoods and the torches, I let that shit go . . . and put my hand on his shoulder. I squeezed. “You got a fucking hard road ahead, brother.”
“I know,” he whispered.
I got to my feet. Just as I opened the door to the bar, he said, “I keep the tattoos as a reminder.” My hand tightened on the doorknob. I looked at Tanner, but he kept his attention straight ahead on the mural. “To remind me of the lives I destroyed for a cause that turned out to mean shit.” He breathed deeply. “They don’t let me forget. Forget the fucking asshole I was for most of my life.” He turned his head and met my eyes. “They’re not because I support white power. But because I hate them.”
In that moment, I felt nothing but pity for Tanner Ayers. Because he was about to go through hell during this war. I left him alone and entered the bar.
Cowboy waved from next to Vike. As I walked to them, Vike threw his arm around my neck and said to Rudge, “Rudge, this is Hush, my blue-eyed milk-chocolate brother.”
Rudge shook my hand. “Good to meet you, mate.” And with that, shot after shot was poured. Brothers from all over the south coming together for one good night before the war came calling and we all took up arms.
As brothers.
As a family.
As the motherfucking Hangmen.
Epilogue
Hush
I heard a truck pull up around front. I wiped my greasy hands on my jeans and put down my tools. I’d been giving my bike an oil change while Sia and Cowboy were out on the ranch. There was a ton of work to be done on our new place, but it was home.
And I fucking loved it.
My feet came to a sudden stop when I saw it wasn’t Sia and Cowboy. A cab was parked in front of our house. When the back door opened, I fucking held my breath. Climbing out of the cab, dressed in a white dress, was my grandmother.
I was frozen. A fucking mute, as her eyes met mine and a smile spread on her face. I looked down. I had no shirt on, dressed in oil-stained blue jeans. But I could see by the look on her face she didn’t give a shit. She said something to the driver and shut the door. The cab didn’t move; the engine kept running.
Finally, my feet started moving when she walked, still with that limp, toward me. I reached out to take her hand. She smiled, and my chest almost caved in. Because that smile . . . it was my mamma’s.
“Mormor.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek. She smelled of perfume. When she moved back, I saw her face was free from bruises.
“Valan,” she said, and just like when I met her that night in Louisiana, I saw tears build in her eyes. I guess we both saw my mamma in each other. I guess we both still felt that our hearts would never fill completely now she was gone.
“What . . . what are you doing here in Texas?”
My grandmother glanced at the cab. “I’m going home.” My heart fell, because I knew she wasn’t talking about Louisiana. I swallowed, trying to shift the lump in my throat. I hadn’t even had a chance to get to know her. I’d done as she said. Stayed away from Louisiana until my grandfather’s case had been dropped. The police believed my grandmother—at least, they had no evidence to prove anything else.
I wanted to visit my mamma.
I wanted to visit my papa.
“Sweden,” I whispered.
Her face lit up. “Yes,” she breathed. “Finally, I am going home.”
I nodded but looked away, feeling that lump begin to choke me. I’d just got her back in my life. I wasn’t sure I could let her go—yet. She squeezed my hand. “I wanted to come and see you first. I am flying from Austin so I could see you before I left.”
I nodded.
Her hand brushed my face. She wore white gloves. I tried to pull away, knowing she would get oil on them. She wouldn’t let me. She didn’t care. “I have a house in Stockholm. You must come and visit with your partners.” I nodded, feeling like I’d taken a punch to the gut. “And I will call you, if that is okay?”