Page 29 of Monk

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then he laughed. A short, sharp bark of disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

His smile vanished. “You can’t justexitWITSEC, John. That’s not how this works.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m telling you right now. I’m out. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” His voice rose just enough to draw a few glances from the other diners before he dragged itback down and leaned in again. “You signed an agreement. You took federal protection. You put yourself and your sister under our jurisdiction. You don’t just walk away.”

“Watch me.”

“Jesus Christ.” He ran a hand over his face, his composure cracking. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? The people we protected you from?—”

“Are dead,” I said. “William Doherty is dead. The old Golden Skulls’ guard is dead. The threats you used to justify keeping me in this cage are gone.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re safe. Do you think the Marshals are the only ones who know about you? You think there aren’t people out there who would love to get their hands on the son of Bones?”

“Let them try.”

Roberts slammed his hand on the table, making the coffee cups rattle. “You’re being reckless. Stupid. You have asister, John. Someone who depends on you. What happens to her when you get yourself killed?”

My jaw tightened. “Abigail is my responsibility. Not yours.”

“She’sourresponsibility as long as you’re in WITSEC. And if you violate the terms of your agreement, we can remove her, and you will never see her again.”

The threat hung there between us like a knife laid flat on the table. I leaned forward, my voice low enough to make him work for it. “You touch my sister, and I’ll burn your whole goddamn world to the ground.”

Roberts’ eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re emotional. Compromised. Whatever’s going on with your club?—”

“This isn’t about the club,” I said, cutting him off. “This is about me. I’m tired of living under your thumb. Tired of being your puppet. Tired of you dictating every move I make, everychoice I make, every goddamn breath I take. I’ve been doing this since I was eight years old, Roberts. Eight. And I’m done.”

“You don’t get to be done. You’re a federal witness.”

“I’m not a witness to anything anymore. The case is closed. The threats are dead. You’re just keeping me around because I’m useful. Because I can feed you intel on the Biker Federation, on the club, on whatever the fuck you want to build a case against next.”

“That’s your job.”

“No,” I said, my voice hard. “That was the deal. I gave you information, and you kept Abigail safe. But the threats are gone. The deal is over.”

Roberts stared at me, his face flushed, his hands clenched into fists on the table. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe. But it’s my mistake to make.”

“You’ll go to prison. Violation of WITSEC terms is a federal offense. We can prosecute you for?—”

“Do it,” I challenged, calm as cold steel. “Prosecute me. Drag me into court. Explain to a judge why you’ve been using a witness as an informant for years after the original case was closed. Explain why you’ve been keeping a man and his sister trapped in a program they don’t need any more just so you can build cases against the Biker Federation.”

His jaw worked, but he didn’t respond.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I thought.”

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I doubt it.”

“You think you’re free now? Do you think you can just walk away and live your life? You’re a target, John. You always have been. And without us, you’re on your own.”

“Good,” I said. “I prefer it that way.”