They Set Me Up to Take the Fall for the Murder of My Entire Motorcycle Club — But They Didn’t Count on Me Fighting Back

Wilson looked surprised. “This is my case—”

“Not anymore. Wait outside.”

After he left, she pulled a chair close to my bed. Her eyes were hard but not unkind.

“Mr. Harmon, I’ve spent twenty years investigating motorcycle clubs. This wasn’t a turf war or a drug deal gone bad. This was personal.”

I said nothing.