Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“It’s a lot to take in.” Samson got up and poured himself another drink. “I was the same when Kill first explained it to me. But if you let it mellow, you’ll see we’re doing it for the right reasons.”
Cleo swallowed, her hand opening and closing beneath mine. “I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s huge. I can’t get my head around it.”
I wanted to gather her close and chase away her dumbfounded fear. “I understand. I’m not asking you to follow everything we’re saying, or even appreciate why it’s up to us to do this. But I am asking for your support.”
Please accept this part of me. Don’t run.
I hadn’t let myself acknowledge just how fucked I’d be if she said no.
Cleo’s green eyes latched on to mine, blazing with honesty. “You never have to doubt that. You have it. Forever.”
A huge weight dissolved.
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
“But why tell me now?”
I smiled. “A lot has come into alignment. I’d always promised Wallstreet that I would take my time in the limelight when my father was dealt with. And …”
How could I tell her that the man who helped organize this—who gave me the confidence and skills to pull this off—would be released soon. He was the linchpin in all of this. He would become the spokesperson and it was up to me to have his throne ready for when he was freed.
“And …,” Cleo prompted.
Scooting to the edge of the chair, my leg bounced with nervous energy. Talking about this sort of stuff never failed to energize and stress me out in equal measure. I knew the mammoth task we’d set. I also knew the lies and bad press that would come to light. Nothing about my life would be spared, and in turn—nothing about Cleo’s life either. She was a part of this, even if she didn’t want to be.
“Wallstreet has been pardoned. He’s just waiting on the final discharge papers and he’ll be a free man again.”
Cleo’s eyes narrowed. “And he thinks the world will follow him because he’s a white-collar criminal who got done for what exactly? Tax evasion?”
I shook my head. “No, of course people wouldn’t listen. He’s not exactly an upstanding member of society. But in many ways, he’s exactly what’s needed. He’s willing to donate the fortune he kept hidden from the government to aid those who need it most.”
Cleo scowled. “So you’re saying he’s going to be a modern-day Robin Hood? Taking from the grubby paws of leaders and giving back to the penniless public?”
A grin broke my face. “It’s a rather flattering analogy, but it sort of works.”
Samson perched on the arm of the chair he’d vacated. “It’s a lot more complicated than that. To pull off something of this scale, we need unlimited resources.” Pointing at me, he smiled. “That’s where the genius comes in.”
A sharp lance in my skull reminded me that if I didn’t fix my brain soon, all our plans might be in the fucking gutter. My ease and ingrained knowledge was still lost to me. The trades I’d placed yesterday clunky compared to before.
“And we need members on each side of the fence to be in accordance with one another. Politicians, bikers, journalists, squeaky clean businessmen, and convicted criminals. We all have a part to play.” Samson raised his glass. “So you can see why it’s been a long planned strategy.”
My thoughts turned to all the other senators and men in power who’d agreed to work with us. Some had taken a lot of persuading with facts and figures. They didn’t believe the blatant lies and forged documents from their departments were true. Others had been waiting for an upheaval like we offered and were only too happy to help. The biggest surprise had come from the local and worldwide MCs. Most of them had been only too happy to band together. For the first time in history, we weren’t fighting against one another but working as one.
It was a fucking miracle.
Hopefully, Cleo would see now why I could never leave. When she’d died, I’d tried to replace her with this—given myself over to making other people’s lives so much better than mine could ever be. Giving everything. Giving more.
And until it was done, I couldn’t abandon it. No matter how much I might want to live a simple life. To have no worries or intricate plans. To have contentedness rather than obsession. What I wouldn’t give to wake up in the morning and only have to care about what position I would take my woman in and for how long.
But this was global. This was infinite. This was my duty.
“Yes, but surely this isn’t your fight? It’s the responsibility of—”
“If we don’t fight, who will?” I asked.
I’d started this journey with vengeance on my mind for both my father and the system that allowed him to destroy my life. But as time passed, my goals evolved. I became less selfish.