The Jameson Brothers Bundle

by M. Robinson

“You would have never what? Fucked him? Fallin’ for him? Let him make love to you? Please, Mia, tell me what you would have never done.”

  “I love him,” she simply stated as if it meant everything when it meant absolutely nothing to me.

  Finally making me realize I’d been fighting a war I never had a chance of winning.

  “Yeah?” I let her go. “Well, you fuckin’ loved me, too. Since you were nine-years-old.” I nodded to the door. “Go. Be with my brother. You love him, yeah? Then go be in his bed. Go lay in his arms. Let him kiss you. Touch you. Tell you you’re his… And try not to think of me the next time he does it. Unless you want me to put my hands on you and remind you who ya really fuckin’ belong to.”

  She slowly backed away, looking at me one last time before she turned and left. And it took everything inside me not to go after her.

  Knowing in my heart.

  We ended here.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  *Creed*

  I called in church.

  Except this meeting wouldn’t include any of the brothers. It would be just my father, myself, and the fucking truth. It took Diesel and me a few days to get our shit in order and line everything up for doomsday. He made sure no other brothers would be present at the clubhouse for the whole day other than us. The last thing we needed was any distractions, interruptions, or retaliations. This was between my father and me.

  Had nothing to do with club business.

  After this there would be no second chances, no do-overs, no going back.

  It was now or never.

  I didn’t realize until the next day that my ma not being home actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Not from the bullshit I witnessed, which would haunt me forever, but from me saving her a world of pain. Making me realize that she didn’t need to know the truth. She’d been through enough and had already moved on with her life. It wouldn’t have been fair to drag her into something that, for the most part, had nothing to do with her.

  At the end of the day this would be my burden and my burden alone to bear.

  The doors opened to the clubhouse conference room just after twelve-thirty in the afternoon, and in walked the fucking Prez. Talking on his cell phone, not paying any mind to where he was and what was going on around him, until he abruptly stopped. His boots crossing the threshold, seeing it was just me filling the large space between us.

  Sitting at the head of the table.

  In his fucking seat.

  He quickly ended his call, narrowing his eyes at me, questioning, “The fuck is goin’ on?”

  I nodded to the seat on the other end of the rectangular table, ordering him to sit down. He understood my silent demand, closing the door behind him. Cautiously stepping further into the room to take a seat. Each of his steps were cool and calculated, heading straight for the chair that was parallel to mine. His eyes never wavered from my stare as he sat down like he was told.

  I was shocked by the fact that he actually listened. Grabbing the gavel, I hit the table three times, announcing church was now in session.

  “You scared?”

  “Of you?” he challenged, grinning.

  “Of the fuckin’ truth.”

  “What truth would that be, son?”

  “The truth of how fucked up you really are.”

  He maliciously smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Like father, like son.”

  Slowly and deliberately, I shook my head no. “I ain’t anythin’ like you, motherfucker.”

  He leaned back into his chair, placing his boots up on the wood table with a loud, hard thud. “That what you think? You’re exactly like me. You kill for what you believe in. You protect what’s fuckin’ yours. You take shit from no one, includin’ me. You’re a fuckin’ Jameson, through and fuckin’ through.”

  “Is that right?” I countered, nodding my head.

  “Fuck yeah it is.”

  I didn’t waver, demanding, “We need to have a word.” I never took my eyes off of him as I grabbed the files that were sitting on my lap. His eyes immediately went to the manila folders in my grasp. “You want ‘em?” I taunted, holding them up in the air. “Or should I make you fuckin’ beg for them.”

  “Fuck you! I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull, but how ‘bout you cut the pussyfootin’ bullshit, and just tell me why the fuck I’m here.”

  I dropped the folders on the table, sliding them across the polished surface. They stopped right in front of him. “I ain’t got a fuckin’ death wish like you do.”

  He jerked back, confused by my declaration. Waiting a few seconds before opening the first file. The one I placed right on top, just for him.

  “I gotta know. Did ya really think I wouldn’t have figured it out? I just wanna know how fuckin’ stupid you really think I am?”

  His eyes were glued to the first photo. The realization of what I knew immediately seized over his face. “Where ya get this?” he asked, looking me dead in the eyes.

  “In your extensive music collection. Never thought you were the classical music type, Pops.”

  “Creed, it ain’t what it fuckin’ looks like.”

  “A picture is worth a thousand words, so are all those fuckin’ documents. So, I’m gonna ask you again… did ya think I wouldn’t have fuckin’ figured it out? But by all means, keep goin’, Prez, there’s a ton of incriminatin’ evidence, exactly like the contents of that folder. The last envelope, though… that’s the one that really fucks with me.”

  He took in my words, slowly spreading the photos and documents out on the table in front of him. Taking in each and every picture with no remorse or guilt present on his face. I sat back, watching, waiting for a reaction, even though I shouldn’t have. I knew he was a heartless bastard, a fucking prick, but I slightly hoped that maybe somewhere deep inside of him, there truly was a man with an underlying conscience.

  His face stayed stagnant, proving my suspicions. He really was just a fucking monster.

  He grabbed the last document with a photograph clipped to it, the one I had been losing sleep over. The one photo that Martinez really wanted me to have was the one I’d been waiting for my old man to see.

  The same one I wanted to fucking kill him for.

  “How long?”

  He peered up at me through the slits of his eyes, conscious of the fact that he finally had been caught. His moment of truth, probably the first one in his miserable fucking life. There were no more bullshit lies he could spew, the truth was held blatantly in his goddamn hand for me to see.

  Angling his chin up in defiance, he snarled, “From the moment she came runnin’ into her momma’s restaurant, wearin’ pigtails and a fuckin’ pink baby doll dress.”

  “You sick fuck!” I slammed my fists on the hard wood, sending my chair flying out from under my body. It took everything in me to restrain the urge to take him the fuck out, right then and there.

  He chuckled, eyeing me up and down. “I get a lot more money for little girls than I do for women. She was such a cute fuckin’ baby girl. You would know, Creed, she’s been followin’ you around since the day I wanted to fuckin’ take her. Do you remember that day? You were standin’ out front with her. If it wasn’t for her overprotective fuckin’ father, it would have been done already. It didn’t help that her uncle is the fuckin’ detective that’s been on our ass for years.” He shrugged, throwing the document and photo back on the table. “So, I had to let it go. Until the moment she stepped foot on this compound and spread her legs for your fuckin’ brother. Comin’ back six weeks later sayin’ she was knocked the fuck up. She’s nothin’ but a two-bit fuckin’ whore! I bet you it wasn’t even his fuckin’ kid. But…” He deviously smiled, big and wide. “A pretty young girl and a newborn baby,” he paused, shaking his head, “now, that’s some serious fuckin’ bank.”

  “You motherf—”

  He pounded his hand on the table, standing. Pointing at me. “I was doin’ it for you! And for your fuckin’ brother! Look what she’s do
ne to you! To the both of you! Makin’ you lose sight of what is really fuckin’ important! This goddamn club!” he roared, walking over to me. Getting right up in my face. “What was next, huh?! You tell me that your leavin’, too? Turnin’ your back on your brothers?! On your fuckin’ colors?! Goin’ to make a nice life for yourself? Get a house with a fence and a fuckin’ dog?! How was that goin’ to work, huh? You get to fuck her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and your baby brother gets her all the other days?”

  I lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat. Slamming his back into the wall as hard as I could. Knocking the wind out of him, causing a loud gasp of air to escape his mouth.

  “How many girls, you piece of shit?! How many fuckin’ girls have you trafficked?!” I let go of his throat just enough to where he could speak.

  He sucked in the air that I was brutally taken away from him, looking me right in the eyes. He stated, “Too many to fuckin’ count.”

  “So, it was all a setup? The shootouts?” I gritted through a clenched jaw, wanting to choke him the fuck out.

  “Yes. Except the first one that took place here, at the clubhouse… that wasn’t for Mia,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “That was for Autumn. Your other fuckin’ whore.”

  My eyes widened, jerking back, never expecting him to say that.

  “You had to play fuckin’ hero, and Marcus couldn’t grab her. You remember him, right? Sinner’s Rejoice were never the threat per se, they were workin’ for me. Takin’ little girls from their beds at night, snatchin’ more at the fuckin’ store. All. For. Me. But it don’t matter, you ended up killin’ Autumn before they could go to New York and fuckin’ collect her! It’s safe to say that one is on you.”

  I cocked my arm back, shouting, “You son of a bitch!” clocking in him the face, not once but four times before he even got the last word out, sending his body to the ground with blood gushing from his nose.

  He laughed, spitting up crimson onto the ground, trying to hold up his head, pinching his nose. “I didn’t think you’d figure out I had Mia so fuckin’ fast after the shootout at your ma’s! They were almost here! If it weren’t for her bleedin’ the fuck out, and the stupid motherfuckers that Sinner’s hired haulin’ ass too fuckin’ quick, she would have been fuckin’ collected!” he chuckled, leaning his back up against the wall. Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “So, I had to wait again… it didn’t take long until you fucked up! Shoulda never took her outside, who knew you were such a pussy, makin’ her a fuckin’ picnic. I gotta say, though... havin’ her lose her bastard of a baby and memory, now that’s been fuckin’ fun to watch!”

  “You were the fuckin’ traitor!” I kicked him in the stomach as hard as I could. He immediately peeled over to his side. “That’s why you suggested the safe house! This has been your obsession all along! You sick motherfucker! I will make you pay for that! Do you hear me?! That was your fuckin’ grandbaby, you piece of fuckin’ shit!” I kicked him two more times.

  My chest heaved, and my eyes burned. All I saw was fucking red. Rage couldn’t even come close to describing how I felt in that moment. It took over every last fiber of my being.

  “For what?! To make me loyal to you?! That’s what this is about! All you want is for me to live and breathe this fuckin’ club! Well, I hate this fuckin’ club!” I shouted, kicking him three more times.

  He groaned, clenching his stomach. Coughing up blood from the blows I was delivering with my boot.

  “Get up! Get up, motherfucker, before I fuckin’ kill you!”

  “Creed, I—”

  The double doors to the conference room suddenly flew open, bringing our attention over to him. The man I’d been waiting for, showed up just in the nick of time before I ended my father’s life. His stare went from me to Pops and back to me again, quickly taking in the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

  “I hate to interrupt this father and son bonding moment, but I got places to be and people to see,” Damien announced, walking into the room. Closing the door behind him.

  “The fuck is he doin’ here?”

  He smiled, slamming his briefcase on the table, taking a seat where my old man had been sitting. “I’m slumming it. That’s what the fuck I’m doing here. Now, get your ass up off the floor, we got business to discuss.” Damien shuffled through all the photos and documents laying out in front of him, even though he was more than familiar with them all. Having stacks of his own and then some at his office.

  Pops rolled over onto his side. Holding onto his stomach, trying to keep it together as he picked himself up to his feet. Using the wall for leverage to stand, taking way too fucking long to be upright. He finally stood, hunched over, walking his way back to the table. Sitting in the head seat.

  Where he still thought he fucking belonged.

  “This her?” Damien asked, holding up the picture of Mia.

  I nodded, sitting in one of the seats adjacent to both of them.

  “You like them young, eh? Seems like your daddy does, too.”

  “Fuck you,” I scoffed out, glaring at him.

  He held up his hands in the air in a surrendering gesture. “No judgment. I’m all for young pussy. It’s much tighter that way,” he rasped, smiling.

  “The fuck is goin’ on?” Prez chimed in again, wheezing for air.

  “May I?” Damien questioned, glancing at me.

  I nodded again.

  He placed the picture back down on the table, pulling out a small recorder from the inside of his suit jacket. Setting it up in front of him. Appearing to be the non-corrupt man, the law-abidding citizen everyone knew him to be. His hair was slicked back into a bun, not a strand out of place. His white suit was crisp and clean, not one wrinkle could be seen. He played the educated, clean-cut lawyer well. Even his tone of voice and dialect was different.

  He was portraying El Santo now, far from the man I had been negotiating with these last few months. It was like he had two different personalities.

  The sinner and the saint.

  “Anything that you say in here from this point forward is confidential between all parties present.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  He rolled his eyes, sighing, “It means I’m here to save your sorry fucking ass. I have all the evidence I need to place you behind bars for life. Thanks to your son here.” He nodded to me. “Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck if you serve time or not. I want to become District Attorney, so I’m here to make you a deal. You give up every fucking name involved in this fucked up mess. Tell me the information I need to know and sign this plea bargain, which clearly states you’re fucking guilty for committing all these crimes. And I’ll make sure you don’t serve a life sentence at Riker’s Island where you’ll get fucked in the ass every night by men who will make you bleed just for fun. Now… are those words you understand?”

  “You ain’t got shit!”

  “These files?” He gestured to the evidence on the table. “This ain’t shit?” He pulled out more from his briefcase and slid them over to him across the table. “What about these? Those shit, too? What? You need more shit? Because I have plenty of shit back at my office. You just tell me how much shit you need, and I’ll make sure you’re knee deep in it.”

  No one said anything for I don’t know how long. I knew the wheels were spinning so goddamn fast in his head he could barely keep up. Trying to figure out how he could weasel his way out of this, save his sorry ass.

  “I’d take his plea bargain, old man. As much as I’d love to see you rottin’ away in prison. Unfortunately, you’re still my fuckin’ father. I can’t bring myself to do that to my mother or Noah, even though you’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ piece of shit. It may have been different if you had actually succeeded with trafficking Mia. So I guess that’s your only savin’ fuckin’ grace. Cuz, see…” I leaned over on the table. “I ain’t nothin’ like you. I got a fuckin’ conscience. And I can’t take any more lives, not even fucki
n’ yours.”

  My father peered back and forth between us, knowing his end was fucking near.

  “Either way, your ass is serving time. It’s just up to you to determine how long,” Damien added.

  “How do I know you ain’t lyin’?”

  “You got trust issues, Jameson?” He held up the plea bargain. “It’s all written here.” Sliding that over to him, too. “Oh wait…you can read, right?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Eh, I prefer fucking putas. Now pick up the fucking pen and sign.”

  It didn’t take long for my old man to agree, spending the next five hours telling Damien everything he needed to know and then some. I couldn’t believe the shady shit he was involved in. It made me sick to my fucking stomach that we were blood and he was my father. He had his hands in a little bit of everything. Things that made human trafficking look like fucking child’s play.

  I just waited.

  Listening to every word. Every confession. Every person he betrayed.

  Anticipating when everything was said and done. My moment. Everything I’d been fucking waiting for, pursuing, investigating. All the sleepless nights, all the bullshit I’d gone through. Every life that had been taken.

  Mine.

  Noah’s.

  Mia’s.

  Especially Maddie’s.

  It all collided together. Except this time, there was no more doubt. No more struggle. No more what ifs.

  My time had come to make things right. All I ever wanted led up to this point in time. Where nothing else mattered.

  But fucking revenge.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  *Creed*

  We walked out the back doors of the clubhouse when they were done with his confession. Pops was getting ready to light up a cigarette, smoking one last time before Damien was supposed to take him in. I didn’t think twice about it, in one swift movement I grabbed the gun from the back of my old man’s jeans and aimed it right at his head.

  “The fuck you doin’?” he immediately let out.

  “Damien, grab the gun he’s hidin’ in his boot.”