I steal a glance at Brooks, suddenly remembering what Kassie told me the other morning in the elevator. Brooks’ history is complicated—that’s what she told me. But what kind of complicated, I wonder? What makes him so vehemently distrustful of the law?
“My turn to ask you something, if you don’t mind,” I say quietly.
“Go ahead,” Brooks says, “I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”
“Kassie mentioned that your life before joining the Nine was...uh...less than sunny,” I begin. “She used the word ‘complicated’.”
“That’s the right word for it,” Brooks sighs deeply. “Did she mention any specifics?”
“No,” I reply, “she said I should ask you.”
“I’ll have to remember to thank her for that, at least,” Brooks chuckles shortly. “I guess I wouldn’t expect Declan to keep secrets from his old lady. I don’t blame her for mentioning it to you. I’d do the same for a friend.”
We sail past the wooden sign that bears the Wraiths’ sigil. I hold my tongue, waiting for Brooks to continue on his own. After a heavy, seemingly endless moment of silence, he takes a deep breath and goes on.
“The truth is, Red, I never planned to become a civilian again, after I joined the Navy. I’d wanted to serve my country my entire life, just like my dad did. The proudest day of both our lives was when I enlisted. I fucking loved being in the military. All of a sudden, my life had structure. Stability. I had friends, family, a steady job. And I honestly thought that I was contributing to something good. Something pure. Freedom and justice have always been more important to me than anything.
During my first tour, everything went pretty smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could go. I did my job, served my country, believed in my mission. I met Dec, and a couple of other guys who really understood me. There was...a girl, too.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling my heart sink, “You...uh...fell in love with her?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Brooks says quietly. “Besides Dec, she was the best friend I made. Natalie. I loved her like a kid sister. She was a firecracker, as good a mechanic as any guy around. She fucking loved her job, and her country. She was one of the good ones.”
“You keep saying...was,” I say softly. “Did she...? She wasn’t—?”
“She wasn’t killed,” Brooks says, his jaw tensing with long-suppressed ire, “but she may have preferred that to what ended up happening. My dad passed away during my and Natalie's second tour. I went on leave for his funeral. Just for a few days, but...” Brooks can barely speak through his clenched jaw. “There was this lieutenant, Davison. Entitled rich boy type. He’d been after Natalie since the day she showed up. She had no interest in him, turned him down every time he tried something. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. While I was gone, he decided he was tired of waiting. He...he forced her...”
“Fucking scumbag,” I whisper, my heart breaking for Brooks’ friend.
“I knew something had happened the second I got back,” he soldiers on. “She didn’t want to tell me, at first. But the truth came out eventually. She refused to report what had happened, and I don’t blame her. The military is a fucking joke when it comes to prosecuting that kind of thing. No one was going to get justice for her, so I...took matters into my own hands. I tracked down Davison, and beat him to a pulp. I might have killed him, if they hadn’t stopped me. I was dishonorably discharged for assaulting an officer. Natalie left the Navy, the one thing she loved most. Last I heard, Davison had been promoted to commander.”
I can’t even speak, I’m so appalled by Brooks’ story. He glances over at me as the Wraith’s Nest comes into view.
“I still believe in justice,” he tells me, “and I still believe in freedom. But what I’ve learned since joining Dante’s Nine is that sometimes, you find freedom and justice where you’d least expect them. It’s not a matter of right or wrong, Red. It’s just a matter of seeing things the way they really are. Whatever happens with Bruno and the FBI...just remember that you have the freedom to decide what justice really means to you.”
Before I can formulate a reply to Brooks’ words of wisdom, something catches my eye at the heart of the Wraith’s Nest. Things are usually pretty rowdy at the Devil’s Playpen at this time of night, to be sure. But something’s going on inside the strip club that goes above and beyond the usual chaos.
“What the hell...?” I mutter, as we park the car and step out into the night.
We watch from afar as a stampede of finely-dressed men flee the Playpen, leaping into expensive cars and peeling off into the night. Pricking up my ears, I hear a whole different kind of cacophony than the usual blaring music and raised voices. Bloodthirsty shrieks rise in waves from the club as the hard rock cuts out. Breaking glass and loud crashes sound from inside. It sounds like some insane brawl has started up, scaring away every last patron. A bottle of tequila smashes through one of the front windows, and Brooks and I take off toward the fray.
The din of battle is deafening as we race into the Devil’s Playpen. My eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden darkness as my mind works to make sense of the scene playing out before me. Nearly every member of Dante’s Nine and the Devil’s Wraiths is here tonight, seemingly squared off against a common threat. That’s good. For a second, I thought Bruno might have found a way to turn the clubs against each other. But the actual situation at hand is even more baffling to behold.
A pack of scantly clad dancers face off against the MC brothers. They’re absolutely livid, ready to burn the Playpen to the ground by the look of them. Each of the two dozen girls is screaming in unadulterated fury—many of them are armed with broken bottles, whips, and stilettos wielded like bludgeons. The girls of the Devil’s Playpen seem to have declared war.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Brooks shouts to his club brothers.
Declan and Leo glance at Brooks from the front line. Leo’s golden eyes are blazing as he shakes out his mane of jet-black hair.
“One of the girls got beat up pretty badly,” he yells back.
“They’re staging a fucking coup,” Declan adds, ducking as a high-heeled shoe flies at his head. Kassie and Kelly are nowhere to be seen, but I recognize more than a few of the dancers who are lined up for combat.