My mouth opens.

“You need to understand I was blinded by rage. I didn’t care about the people around me. They were all face-down when I shot Johan in the head, doubtin’ anyone saw much—it’s why witnesses were sketchy.”

Makes sense.

“Screams broke out, Whiskey came in, and before I knew it shots were comin’ in through the doors. They killed the rest of his family. Cops showed up minutes later, arresting me. The witnesses missed most of it, but there was enough evidence to assume I killed them all—I was the one they saw wavin’ the gun around, so why wouldn’t it be me? I was arrested.”

“What did he do to you that would make you so angry?” I whisper, eyes wide.

“That ain’t any of your business. All you need to know is that I didn’t kill the rest of them. I’m sure if they did their fuckin’ research, they would see the bullets weren’t from my gun.” He snorts loudly. “Or maybe they were. Howard and his club are fuckin’ clever.”

“What you’re telling me is that this other club shot the rest of his family, making it look like you did it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you. They even cut the cameras so no one would see it. It was fuckin’ crazy; people were everywhere. It wouldn’t have been hard for them to slip shots in. I know Howard has some fuckin’ good shooters. These people deal with bad shit. They have contacts with the cartel. They aren’t the kind of people to fuck around.”

“They said there was another man with you?”

He nods. “Whiskey, one of the boys, was checkin’ out the café next door. He came in when he heard the shot. A few people saw him, hence why testaments were comin’ through that another man was there. I’d already shot Johan when he came in. I made him leave before the cops arrived, but he took my gun with him – not exactly sure why. He got questioned, but said fuckin’ nothin’. He won’t say nothin’ either, until this shit is sorted. Club code.”

“Why?” I gasp. “He could have confirmed your story!”

“No,” he mutters. “He needed to inform Maddox, and I didn’t have time to get a call in. It was better that way.”

I think about the witnesses that came forward, and how some of them were telling a very different story. His version makes sense, because logically, they would have missed the actual shooting part. It would be easy to assume it was Beau, since he was the only one they saw with a gun . . .

“What do the prison guards have to do with any of this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as I try to piece it all together in my head.

“They’re on the fuckin’ inside. Howard paid them good fuckin’ money to feed information. The prison transfer, it was all a big fuckin’ set-up. They said they were movin’ me for fighting? I had one fuckin’ real fight; it wasn’t enough to be moved. It was all set-up through the group of them workin’ with him. They were plannin’ an ambush, only they weren’t expecting Maddox: they were expectin’ Howard.”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “You’re telling me they were expecting Howard? What was he going to do? Take you?”

“I have no fuckin’ idea what he was goin’ to do, but if Maddox didn’t get in first, I would have found out.”

“How did Maddox know?”

“Maddox is a fuckin’ smart man. He has contacts everywhere. Not only did he manage to get hold of one of Howard’s men’s guns, he also shot those fuckers with it. When they search the club house they won’t find me, and they won’t find you, because it’s goin’ to look like Howard is the one at hand.”

Oh God. My head spins with all this information.

“Why did Howard put you in prison, and then try to ambush them to get you out?”

He chuckles, but it’s a deep, terrifying sound. “Don’t you fuckin’ see? He was tryin’ to set the club up. I have no fuckin’ doubt that man had the same idea we had, and was goin’ to plant evidence to show it was the Jokers’ who took out those prison guards—only we got in first. He probably would have then taken me and killed me, just for shit’s sake.”

“And in doing that he could have likely brought down hell upon your club.”

He nods. “We would have had cops all over us. Fuck, more of us would have gone to prison. It would have caused an all-out war that would have ended fuckin’ badly. He wants to put our club on the cops’ radar, because they’re tryin’ to run some seriously bad shit through the town. If the cops aren’t on their tail, they can do it easier.”

“Isn’t it going to cause a war now?”

“Absolutely,” he mutters. “But if we go down, that little cunt is comin’ down with us.”

Oh, boy.

“And when they find you, won’t you just go right back?”

“Not if we have the evidence to show that it wasn’t me who pulled that trigger. If we set it up right, Howard will go down hard and so will his club.”

“You still killed someone.”

He looks away, not answering.

I can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders that this conversation is over. We sit in an eerie silence for a long, long time before he finally turns back and pulls the food off the small fire. He places it down and goes to open it, but ends up slipping and burning his fingers. He roars and leaps backwards, cursing loudly.