Jigsaw pulls out his phone and hands it to me. A beautiful but terrified brunette stares back. Except for being duct-taped to a chair, she seems unharmed.

Someone off-camera, Jigsaw, I assume asks about the night of the shooting.

“I don’t know,” she cries.

“Think hard. ”

“You don’t understand what he’ll do to me.”

“Trust me, sugar. It won’t be an issue.”

She’s silent. Probably weighing her options. Rat out her husband or get carved up by Jigsaw? If Shadow treats her with the same respect he treats other women, I think she’ll choose the first option.

“I didn’t do anything,” she whispers. “And I didn’t know what he had planned.”

“What didn’t you know?” Jigsaw snaps. “Stop fucking around.”

“He wanted me to,” she stops and licks her lips, “drive this car he rented to the clubhouse. He was going to give me a signal to peel out.” She stares at the camera. “It’s best if I don’t ask Jimmy questions.”

"Get to the night in question,” Jigsaw prompts.

“I pulled into the parking lot where he told me to so I’d avoid the cameras. He was outside arguing with the tall, older guy.”

Jigsaw must flash a picture to her off-camera. “That him?”

She nods.

“Go on.”

“The other guy turned to go inside and Jimmy…”

She sobs and hiccups at the same time.

In a gentler tone, Jigsaw asks, “What did Shadow do?”

“He…he…pulled a gun and shot the older man…in the back of the head.” She bursts into tears. “I didn’t need a signal. I slammed it in drive and floored it out of there.”

“Fucking bitch,” Shadow mumbles.

“Actually, she was quite sweet.” Jigsaw grins. “Once we got to know each other.”

“Motherfucker!” Shadow roars and launches himself at Jigsaw, hitting him head-on in the gut.

“Jesus Christ, sit him down,” I say to Steer.

Jigsaw’s laughing when Shadow’s thrown back into his chair. I glare at him and he settles down.

Steer uses his sledgehammer-sized fists to knock Shadow around a few times. “You shot our president?” he asks between blows.

“Fuck you.” He laughs in Steer’s face. “You should’ve helped me take Sway out after that shit with Bull, but you’re too loyal to him.”

Obviously, they have issues to work out.

“Loyal to the club.” Steer punches Shadow in the face, snapping his head to the left. “Not Sway.”

“Enough,” I order. “Did you shoot Sway?” I ask again.

“He was kissing Priest’s ass. Closing off avenues of revenue that clubs have used for decades because he didn’t want to get on Priest’s bad side.”

Hustler shakes his head. “None of us wanted in on the stuff you’re talking about. We’ve voted on it more than once.”

Interesting that they’ve voted on whether or not to go against direct orders from National.