Dark Temptation (Dark Saints MC Book 2)(11)

I ignored the text. And then I felt like shit on every level.

I opened my phone and looked at the article from ten years back. I needed to remind myself of who I was and what I was doing.



TEXAS RANGER KILLED DURING BANK ROBBERY INVESTIGATION.



This time I read the entire article, like I had a million times before.



A ten-year veteran of the Texas Rangers, Garry Guffy, was killed in the line of duty Friday.

The department confirmed that Guffy was assigned to investigate the robbery of Port Azrael State Credit Union.

The establishment was robbed Thursday shortly before the Credit Union was set to close for the day. Authorities say the thieves were armed and instructed tellers to fill several bags with the cash available in the safe.

The bank employees complied and no injuries were reported.

Agents issued a statement late Thursday that they were pursuing leads in the robbery based on the footage provided by security cameras in the Por Azrael Federal Credit Union.

According to the official statement from the Texas Rangers and the Texas Department of Public Safety: “It is with great sadness that we report that Agent Garry Guffy was killed in the line of duty. Guffy and two agents entered the residence on Harper Street after receiving credible tips that the suspects responsible for the Port Azrael Credit Union were holed up inside. The suspects, Charles Caruso, Terrance Fitz, and Kenny Bass opened fire on the Rangers. Ranger Garry Guffy returned fire. During the gunfire, Agent Garry Guffy sustained a fatal gunshot wound to the chest. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Suspects Charles Caruso and Terrance Fitz, were apprehended. Suspect, Kenny Bass, was also fatally wounded in the incident.

The funds from the bank were recovered in total. However, a safe deposit box of unknown value is still missing.

The Texas Rangers have lost a highly decorated and honorable member of the agency. Garry Guffy’s service to the state in pursuit of law and order is the ultimate sacrifice.

Additional details about how the agency and state plans to honor his service are pending.”



There it was: much more recent history. The reason I was in Port Azrael.

Kenny Bass killed my Dad. There were more articles. There were more details. There was coverage of the funeral procession. I remembered some of it. The rest was a blur.

But Kenny Bass, Charles Caruso, and Terrance Fitz were members of The Dark Saints. That’s what my Grandma told me.

Bass died with a bullet from my Daddy’s gun in his brain. The rest of them died in prison. To everyone else, that was that. The chapter on Garry Guffy and Kenny Bass was closed.

But that wasn’t enough for my Grandma or me.

“They just go about their business in Port Azrael. The rest of them. Like nothing.” She’d said that to me time and time again. But she was an old woman by the time my Daddy was killed and she was gone now. I had nothing left of Daddy. I’d inherited only one thing from my Grandma and that was the conviction that The Saints should pay.

The Dark Saints. Did they remember my Daddy? Was Kenny Bass some sort of hero to them now? The idea of that made me sick to my stomach.

They hadn’t gotten rich off their little robbery either. The dye pack had exploded like it was supposed to. The scene photos from Harper Street showed that blue powder was everywhere; it coated everything.

It would be funny if it weren't so awful. If it wasn’t my Daddy.

They’d died for nothing, those Dark Saints. And they’d taken my Daddy with them.

I looked at my phone again.

It had been two hours since Benz texted me.

Two hours since I’d lost my nerve.

I had a lifetime of resentment handed down to me. I had one chance to go in deeper and to punish the club that killed my Daddy and I got scared.

I wasn’t up to it.

Benz was a real human being. Not someone in a newspaper article. He wasn’t something torn from a faded history book. He was a real person who turned me inside out.

I had all kinds of visions of what it would be like to bring down The Saints. I had concocted scenarios that didn’t look like real life. They looked like a Quinton Tarantino movie.

I sank deep into the covers of my hotel room bed. I tried to sleep. I guess I dozed off eventually because started dreaming.

My dreams were feverish, confused, but ultimately, Benz was in them and we were kissing.

What the hell had I done to myself? I needed to reel in the emotions and get on with it.

I got up and got ready for the library.

If Benz hadn’t lost interest, I could find my courage.

I could do this dammit. I could put those Saints away.

And Benz was my way in.





8





Benz



Bear Bullock took me in when I was 16. There was no doubt that he was the only kind of father I had. And Bear was running this show. There was no one I trusted more to handle the bigger picture for The Saints.

I’d spent the morning helping in the body shop, and I was under one of the cars we had in for repair. It wasn’t our bread and butter, the repair business out front of the MC, but it made us look semi-legitimate.

I felt a tapping on my boots, which were sticking out from underneath the car. “Bear needs you inside,” came a voice from above me. It was Moose, a probie who was doing all he could to learn the ropes.

The kid was probably sixteen and we were doing for him now what Bear had done for me a decade ago. Moose was a big boy, just like I’d been, and he needed a lot of structure. Bear and the MC provided that. We were wild and crashed into shit and each other on the regular. But the club rules kept us all together.