Page 4 of Blood of Vengeance

“Yo, Flinch,” Preacher, the enforcer of the club, hollered from his seat at the bar the second I walked inside, looking as serious as ever. “The old man wants you.”

I nodded once before heading for the back. The boys all looked to be having a grand old time—drinking, fucking, and fighting a little bit. Nothing serious, nothing out of hand. Just a normal Friday night with the Desert Riders. As normal as it could be, considering how fucked up things seemed lately.

I popped a knuckle against the doorjamb, giving the vice president of the club, a wolf named Cutter, the chance to tell me to fuck off. Not that he would if he’d been looking for me.

“You rang?”

Cutter waved me in, keeping his eyes locked on the papers before him. “Where you been?”

“Cleaning up Rush’s mess.”

My VP looked up, one gray eyebrow cocked. “Anything we need to be worried about?”

“We? No. Me?” I shrugged before taking a seat in the chair across from him. “I’ll take care of whatever blowback comes our way.”

“You always do.” He rocked back in his leather office chair, his ice-blue eyes locking on mine. He had his long silver hair tied back tonight, a black tee making him appear more stone-cold than ever. The man tended to scare the humans who hung around the club, though none of them could have explained why. I could have. He exuded predator energy from the top of his head to the bottom of his boots. Everyone outside of his circle of brothers was a bag of flesh to him—nothing more, nothing less. Even a few of the brothers didn’t get to be viewed as more than an organ donor. The man just couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck for the majority.

He held my gaze, likely waiting for me to break. Playing some fucked-up power game our wolves found fun. I kept my face flat, my eyes steady. Didn’t even fucking blink.

Finally, his lips twitched into his version of a smile, and he shook his head. “Do you even know how to back down?”

“No.”

One word—full sentence.

His grunt of acceptance came with a head nod. “Chiggy’s missing.”

Chiggy. Club president. Longtime member. Badass older wolf who definitely knew how to handle himself.

“Leads?”

“None. I sent Mule and Zed over to his place, but they got nothing so far. I’m still waiting on them to come back after doing a bit more looking around.”

“His ride there?”

“His bike, yeah. Zed said his truck wasn’t in the garage.”

“Think he ditched?” I didn’t. The man would no sooner run from us than he would suck a cock on the pool table in the club. He’d always been as steady and loyal as they came.

Cutter seemed to agree with me. “I doubt it, but at this point, what the fuck do I know? The guy’s in the wind.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Wait for Mule and Zed to get back, then go out to Chiggy’s house. Take Banger—that old bastard hung with Chiggy the most. With his knowledge and your…skills” —he quirked an eyebrow at my snort— “maybe you can piece together something. A possibility. We need a place to start.”

“Understood. That it?”

“Yeah.” He went back to reading over the papers before him as I rose to my feet and headed for the door, stopping me with a barked, “Flinch.”

I turned, waiting. And waiting some more. “Yeah?”

“Keep this quiet.”

“Not a problem.” I headed down the hall and into the club room, hunting for Banger. The old wolf shifter could usually be found flirting with the club pussy. He didn’t fuck in the club like the younger guys, but he liked showing the younger boys up. Had fun getting the females to give him their attention over the buffer, more ego-driven brothers before slipping away with them for a little privacy. The man had entertained me pulling his shit for years, but tonight, he wasn’t entertaining the ladies. He wasn’t even in the bar area of the clubhouse. That fact didn’t help the sense of dread slowly building in my gut.

“Yo, Preach.” I slid in beside the shifter at the bar, keeping my voice low. “Where’s Banger?”

“Don’t know. Why you looking for him?”

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