"The evidence you fabricated against Liam. Let's talk about that." He pulled out his phone again, brought up the documents Garrett had sent him. But this time he connected it to the TV mounted on the wall. Financial records filled the screen.
"These are the club's banking records for the past 2 years." Frank said. "Notice these withdrawals, 500 here, 1,000 there. Small enough not to raise flags, but they add up, $80,000 total." The room went quiet, everyone staring at the numbers.
"Now watch." Frank swiped to the next screen. "These are the authorization forms. Club purchases, equipment, parts, insurance, all approved by the VP." He zoomed in on the signatures.
"Cole Blackwood, your signature on every one." "I authorize purchases all the time." Cole said. "That's my job." "Except these purchases never happened."
Frank swiped again. "Here's the vendor invoices, or rather, here's where they should be. But there's nothing. No invoices, no receipts, no equipment delivered." He looked at "Cole." ""Where did the money go, Cole?"" "This is a setup."
Cole said. "Someone's framing me." "Someone's framing you? Oh, we call me out." Frank's voice hardened.
"That's your defense? After you spent the last month building a case against Liam using the exact same tactic?" He pulled up another screen. "Liam's supposed transactions. Notice something interesting?
Same pattern, small withdrawals, same authorization process, even the same fake vendors." Frank looked around the room. "Only one person had access to set this up. The VP, the man who controls the treasury authorizations." Liam Hutchins stood up from where he'd been sitting in the corner, isolated and silent.
45 years old, built like a firefighter, with 20 years of loyalty in every line of his face. "I didn't steal anything." Liam said quietly. "I've been saying that for 2 weeks. Nobody listened."
"I listened." Frank said. "Because I know you. I've watched you for 20 years, Liam. Watched you show up for every charity ride, every funeral, every time a brother needed help moving or fixing a car, or just someone to talk to.
Men who steal don't do that." "Men who steal also don't get caught." Cole shot back. "If I was stealing, you think I'd be stupid enough to leave a trail?" ""Yes."" Frank said simply. "Because arrogance makes men stupid.
You got comfortable, thought nobody was watching. Thought the old-timers were too senile enough not to notice, and the young members too loyal to question." "This is insane." Cole said, but he was looking around now, seeing doubt creep into the faces of his supporters. Travis stood up. ""President Ironside...
I mean, Mr. Morrison, if you've been president this whole time, why hide? Why let Cole run things?" It was a fair question. Frank had been asking himself the same thing for 2 years. "My wife got sick."
Frank said. The room went quiet. ""Cancer. Stage four." She fought it for 3 years before it took her. During that time, I wasn't fit to lead.
Couldn't think straight, couldn't make decisions that affected people's lives when I was watching the most important person in my life fade away." He looked at "Garrett." "I had Garrett handle things. Trusted him to maintain what we'd built. And for a while it worked.
The club ran itself. Good men like Liam kept things together. And then Cole stepped up." Garrett added. "Became VP, started making decisions.
At first good decisions, smart decisions. We thought maybe it was time for a new generation to lead. But power changes people." Frank said. "Cole, you started out wanting to help.
I saw it. I watched you bust your ass for this club, work double shifts to keep the clubhouse running, organize rides, bring in new members. You were good at it." Cole's jaw clenched. ""Don't patronize me."" ""I'm not. I'm telling you the truth."
You had the potential to be a great leader, but somewhere along the way you stopped asking what the club needed and started taking what you wanted." "You don't know anything about what I want." Cole said. ""Don't I?"" Frank stepped closer. "You want respect. You want men to look at you the way they look at legends.
You want to be Ironside, the ghost president, the man nobody sees, but everyone fears." Something flickered in Cole's eyes, recognition, truth. "But here's what you don't understand." Frank continued. "That respect, it's not given.
It's not taken. It's earned. Every day, every decision, every time you choose the club over yourself." "I've given everything to this club." Cole said, and for the first time his voice cracked.
"5 years of my life, missed birthdays, missed holidays, lost a wife because she couldn't handle the lifestyle. And for what? To be told I'm not good enough. To be told some old man who hasn't shown his face in years is still the real president." "You didn't lose your wife because of the club."
Garrett said quietly. "You lost her because you chose ambition over her. I was there, "Cole." I saw it happen." " you, "Garrett."" But there was pain in Cole's voice now. Real pain.
Frank understood that pain. He'd felt it, too. The ache of sacrifice, the weight of choosing duty over desire. "Cole, pick your poison." Frank said.
"I'm giving you a chance right now, in front of everyone. Admit what you've done. Step down, we'll call it a resignation. You can walk away clean." ""And if I don't?"" "Then we vote, and you lose. And instead of walking away, you get expelled, patches stripped, cut off from your brothers.
Is that what you want?" The room held its breath. Cole looked around at the faces watching him. Young members who'd followed him, old-timers who judged him, Liam who he'd tried to destroy, and finally at Frank, the ghost who'd become real. "You know what?"
Cole said softly. " this." He pulled his gun. The clubhouse erupted into motion. Men dove for cover, chairs toppled, glass shattered, but Frank didn't move. He stood there looking down the barrel of Cole's pistol, his pale eyes calm as winter ice.
"Put it down, "Cole."" Garrett said. He'd drawn his own weapon, aimed at Cole's center mass. "I'm not going to jail." Cole said. His hand was steady, too steady, like he'd made peace with whatever came next.
"I'm not losing everything because some old man decided to come back from the dead." "Nobody's going to jail." Frank said. "Put the gun down. We'll talk."
"Talk? You want to talk? You've been judging me from the shadows for 5 years, making decisions without showing your face. And now you come back and expect me to just "What?" Roll over?
Accept it?" "I expect you to remember who you were before ambition poisoned you." Frank said. "The man who joined this club because he wanted brothers, family, not power." "That man died when his wife walked out."