T-Bone - L. Wilder Page 0,74

frustrated sigh. “This whole thing makes me wish I’d handled Booker differently. I should’ve made that motherfucker suffer instead of just shooting him like I did.”

A few days after Gus was released from the hospital, Moose went and picked him up from his house and brought him over to the clubhouse. We’d already given him the rundown of everything that had happened the night we took the Genocide out, and how we’d saved Booker for him. The guy had been in one of Shadow’s holding rooms for just over three weeks. He knew his time was coming, and it had to be hell sitting in that room alone, only getting fed once a day as he waited for his end. Hell, the guy actually looked relieved the day Gus stepped into that room. We all knew Gus would kill him. We just didn’t know how. He could’ve tortured him, beat the hell out of him, or wounded him in a way that would’ve made his death come slow and painful. Instead, Gus turned to Shadow and said, “Give me your Glock.”

Shadow nodded, then placed the gun in his president’s hand. Gus then stepped over to Booker, placed the barrel at Booker’s head and said, “I’ll see you in hell.”

He pulled the trigger, and the deed was done. Without a word, Gus slowly walked out of the room, and today was the first time he’d talked about it since. I understood his regret. If I were in his shoes, I would want to take all my frustrations out on the piece of shit, but that opportunity had come and gone. I gave Gus a pat on the shoulder as I recalled that night. “He had to sit in that room, and with every gunshot he heard, he knew we’d just killed another one of his men. Trust me when I say, the guy got what was coming to him.”

“You’re right.” He ran his hand over his face with a huff. “I need to quit whining like a little bitch and get my ass back to work.”

“That you do.” I stood up and walked over to pick up the weight he’d thrown across the room. I carried it back over to him and said, “I think you’ll be needing this.”

“Yeah … Motherfucking stupid shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Neither had noticed that Patrick had walked up until he chuckled and said, “Glad to see that you’ve cooled off.”

“Don’t start with me, kid,” Gus warned. “I’ll do the shit you want me to do, but I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

“Understood.”

“All right then.” Knowing they needed to get back to work, I told Gus, “I’ll let you boys get to it.”

As I started to walk away, Gus called out to me. “Hey, Bone.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Samantha was babysitting Harper, their granddaughter, so I’d volunteered to bring him to therapy today. It wasn’t the first time I’d done so and I doubted it would be last. I didn’t mind. It meant a lot to me to see the progress he was making. I gave him a nod and said, “Anytime.”

I found a chair and sat down, watching quietly as Gus continued his therapy. When he was finally done, I drove him back over to his place. Being typical Samantha, she invited me to stay for dinner—her way of thanking me for taking Gus when she couldn’t. No way was I going to turn down a home-cooked meal, so I accepted her offer. Spending time with Gus and Samantha and watching the way they interacted with such love and respect for one another had me thinking about Alyssa. There was a time when we had something a little like theirs, and I won’t deny that I missed it. I missed her—more than I cared to admit. There were nights when I’d drive over to her place or the restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

I wasn’t the only one who was missing her. Clay was struggling with the fact that she was still keeping her distance. They’d had a few quick phone calls here and there, but he hadn’t actually seen Alyssa since the night she refused to come to lockdown. Even after the danger had subsided and the lockdown was lifted, he couldn’t convince her to come to the clubhouse. I could only assume it was because she knew I would be there.

It had been over four months, and I hadn’t gotten so much as a text from her. There were many times when I