Her Final Confession

Chapter One

JUNE 1992

Seattle, Washington

Billy was coming out of the store, a bag containing two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream slung over one wrist, when he stopped to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and checked his watch; he could have two cigarettes and still be home in time for dinner. His wife didn’t like it when he smoked.

In his periphery, he saw a woman heading over to her minivan. The flash of her silver hair in the sun as she stumbled through the parking lot caught his eye. He watched her walk in a full circle before fumbling with her keys. Maybe she was sick; maybe she was drunk; maybe she was just old, or mad, or both. His gaze drifted once she got into the van and started it up, distracted by the rattle of a motorbike engine.

He couldn’t believe his luck as Lincoln Shore roared to the front of the store and parked his bike. Even outlaw bikers had to eat, he guessed. The truth was that Billy knew Linc frequented this grocery store and a few other places in the area and had been hoping he’d run into him. He was already well known to a couple of Devil’s Blade members but had yet to capture Linc’s attention. Billy lit his second cigarette from the end of his first one and flicked the butt to the ground as Linc heaved himself off his bike. Billy felt the heat of his gaze. Then heard his gravelly voice. “You’re that hang-around, aren’t you? The one’s been sittin’ at the bar lately.”

“Yeah,” Billy answered, “I—” but his words were swallowed up by sounds his brain couldn’t quite process right away. A rush of air, a squeal of tires, the screech of metal against metal, and the howl of an engine being pushed to its limits.

He had a split second to react, and his instincts took over. From the corner of his eye, he registered the minivan trampling shopping carts and clipping a parked car. Other shoppers jumped out of the way of the speeding vehicle.

Billy barreled into Linc, throwing all of his weight into the burly biker and sending them both flying through the air. Concrete rushed at them. Linc’s body cushioned Billy’s fall, and his leather jacket kept him from losing generous strips of skin as they skidded across the ground. Behind them, the minivan crashed into a parked car, pushing it into two other nearby cars before finally coming to a stop. Its engine continued to rev, its front tires screaming against the asphalt. The driver slumped over the wheel. Red blood stained her silver scalp. As the other patrons in the parking lot rushed toward the minivan, Billy stood and extended a hand to Linc, pulling him to his feet.

They stood silent and staring at the trail of damage the minivan driver had left behind her. Linc said, “Thanks, brother.”

Billy smiled. “Anytime,” he replied, and because he didn’t want to press his luck, he started walking away.

“Hey,” Linc called after him. “What’s your name, hang-around?”

Billy turned back. “Benji,” he said, using his undercover name. “Benji Stone.”