When I Reached the Accident Scene to Save My Biker Husband, I Found His Mistress Wearing My Tenth-Anniversary Gift for Him novel · Chapter 18 of 24
Chapter 18: The Hearing
Bree's POV
Eighty-one people were in the clubhouse by seven o'clock on Saturday night.
I scanned the crowded room, keeping my hands occupied.
Riders and their wives, old men from the Legion hall, the girl who ran the diner.
They had come because Gus had called every one of them himself and said only: *Be there. It's about Frank's boy.*
I stood at the back wall, next to the plaque.
It was bolted up where it had hung for eleven years, over the pool table, in the light.
My mother stood beside me in her good black coat.
Hank was a step behind us, with his gold-starred hand in his pocket.
Gus climbed onto the little platform where the band set up.
He did not tap a glass.
He just waited until the room went quiet, a room that had never once gone quiet for anyone else.
"I'm going to say something," he said. "And you'll hear it all before anyone leaves."
He took a folded card from his vest.
My index card, which I had given him that afternoon.
"Eleven years ago in April, Danny Callahan was killed on Route 9 at mile 41," he said. "I told you he rode alone, and drunk. I told the police. I told his mother."
Nobody moved.
"It was a lie. I wrote it myself."
A low sound went through the room.
"Travis Mercer was driving," Gus said. "He was drunk, and he took the bend too fast, and Danny was on the back. I got there, and I made a phone call to protect this club. I waited thirty-eight minutes before I called an ambulance."
Someone near the door said, "Oh, Jesus."
"I did that. Not Travis. Me."
He unbuckled the gray leather vest, with the president's patch on the chest.
He folded it once and laid it on the platform.
"I'm done," he said. "I'm not fit to lead you. I'll answer to the state police. That's my choice, and you don't owe me a vote."
Then he stepped down.
The silence after was the loudest I've ever heard.
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