“Chapter 5: The Medal on the Table
Jax reached into his vest. Deputy Miller took a step forward, his gun clearing the holster by an inch. “”Hands where I can see them, Jax!””
Jax pulled his hand out slowly. He wasn’t holding a weapon.
CLANG.
He slammed the rusted, sand-pitted Army Commendation Medal onto the Formica table. It skittered an inch toward Thorne’s plate.
“”Look at it,”” Jax commanded.
The diner went deathly silent. Sarah stopped mid-pour. The two bikers outside were visible through the window, shadows against the glass.
Thorne stared at the medal. His eyes were wide, his breath coming in short, shallow hitches. He knew exactly what it was. It was a ghost.
“”That’s… that’s my father’s,”” Deputy Miller whispered, stepping closer, his gun hand dropping. He stared at the rusted metal, the desert sand still seemingly caught in the crevices of the bronze. “”He told me he lost it in the fire.””
“”He didn’t lose it,”” Jax said, his eyes never leaving Thorne’s. “”He gave it to me because he couldn’t stand to look at it. Because it reminded him of the men who died because a contractor wanted a bonus. It reminded him of the man who sold out his unit.””
Jax leaned closer to Thorne, the smell of the developer’s expensive cologne clashing with Jax’s scent of leather and illness.
“”He carried me through the sand, Silas. I’m here to carry him through you.””
Jax coughed, a wet, rattling sound that made Thorne flinch. Jax wiped a spray of red from his lip with the back of his hand, leaving a smear on the table next to the medal.
“”If you don’t sign those papers, I take this story to the feds,”” Jax hissed. “”They don’t just want the Reapers. They want the men who corrupted the contracts. You’ll be in a cell next to me, Silas. But I’ll be dead in six months. You’ll have twenty years to think about it.””
Thorne looked at the Deputy. The young man wasn’t looking at the biker anymore. He was looking at Thorne with a dawning, horrific realization. The man who had been paying for his “”career”” was the man who had betrayed his father.
“”Sign it,”” the Deputy said, his voice cold and hard as iron.
Thorne reached for a pen. His hand was shaking so badly he could barely grip it.
Chapter 6: The Final Ride
The ride back to the clubhouse was quiet. The roadblocks were still there, but they let Jax through. Something had shifted in the air.
Jax walked into the main hall. Leo was waiting, surrounded by the full charter.
“”Did you do it?”” Leo asked.
Jax tossed the signed life-tenancy agreement onto the bar. “”Miller stays. The riverside is his until he dies.””
Leo looked at the paper, then at Jax. “”And the Feds?””
“”They’re coming,”” Jax said. “”I called them from the diner. I gave them the ledger, Leo. The real one. I told them everything I did. And I told them everything Thorne did.””
The room erupted in a low roar of disbelief. Leo stepped forward, his face inches from Jax’s. “”You turned yourself in? You killed the club?””
“”I saved the club,”” Jax said, his voice steady despite the fire in his lungs. “”I took the heat. The ledger only has my name on it. I’ve been embezzling for years, remember? I told them I acted alone. The Reapers are clean. You’re the President now, Leo. Don’t make me regret it.””
Leo stared at him for a long time. The anger slowly drained away, replaced by a grudging, painful respect. He realized what Jax had done. He’d cleared the debt—both of them.
“”You’re a crazy old bastard, Jax.””
“”Maybe,”” Jax said. “”But Miller has his house. And Sarge has a yard.””
That evening, as the sun dipped low over the Ohio industrial skeleton, Jax sat on the porch of the clubhouse. He could hear the sirens in the distance—the feds coming to take him away. He wouldn’t spend long in a cell; the doctors had made that clear.
He watched Miller walk his three-legged dog down by the water. The old man looked up and raised a hand. Jax raised his back.
The rattle in his chest was still there, but the weight was gone. He reached into his pocket and found a small, smooth stone he’d picked up in the desert twenty years ago. He tossed it into the tall grass.
He was ready. The ledger was square. The ride was over.
As the first black sedan pulled into the gravel lot, Jax Vance closed his eyes, took a deep breath of the humid Ohio air, and finally, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t cough.
He just smiled.”
