Page 74 of Callum

“Do both what?”

“Look for whatever RMF assholes snuck over the border and find your daughter. We need to expand our inner circle.” Grant’s eyes meet mine across the room, the statement reading as a question in his gaze.

“Who?” The sound of several engines cut through the air moments before headlights flash across the frosted glass of the garage doors. “The 714?”

Merrick pulls out his phone, holding up a finger at Maddock before he can move toward the manual door lift. Mads waits for Merrick to give the all-clear, but my attention snaps back to Grant.

“Not all of them,” he assures me, moving to stand next to Rosalind. “Just JJ, for now.”

“JJ Ferguson?” It’s Rosalind who asks the question, and I see my surprise mirrored on Grant’s face.

“You know him?”

“I know of him,” she corrects, her eyes glued to the garage doors as they slide open to reveal three motorcycles flanking a blacked-out van. The roar of engines grows exponentially when the motorcycles roll inside the Warehouse. Maddock closes the door behind the van before it comes to a halt alongside the motorcycles.

The man driving the van wears the same all-black skull mask as two of the men riding the bikes. It’s the signature mask of the 714 Motorcycle Club when they are operating outside their cuts. Normally, the men ride around with helmets and leather vests that mark them as members of the 714, but on nights like this, when they are operating outside the law, they ditch the cuts and don the masks.

The third man stands from his motorcycle, his all-black outfit perfectly matching the other men now moving around him. It would be hard to mark him as the leader if he weren’t a full foot taller and wearing a solid gold mask. The bars covering the right eye match the hinges at his jaw, but the rest of his mask is smooth enough to see the warehouse reflected in its surface.

JJ swings his head in our direction, the golden skull glinting in the overhead lights. He pauses momentarily to answer a question asked by the man standing closest to him. The other man nods at whatever JJ says before moving toward the crates in the corner, where Maddock and Merrick are already standing with the other two members of the 714.

My eyes track JJ’s progress toward us, checking him for possible weapons. I trust him, but you never know when someone might turn on you.

“JJ,” Grant nods a greeting that the other man returns. It’s impossible to see where he’s looking behind the mask, but his head is tilted in Grant’s direction.

“MacAlister.” JJ’s deep voice slips through the mask, the skull’s jaw hinging in time with his mouth. It’s a bit creepy, seeing his lips and teeth through the skull’s mouth but never being able to see his eyes. “I’m guessing you didn’t call me here for a run-of-the-mill pickup?”

“Not exactly.” I pull JJ’s attention away from Grant, the lower jaw of his skull mask wiggling a bit at what I think is an attempt at hiding a smile.

“Good to see you again, Doc.”

Behind JJ, I see Maddock grab a steel prybar off the ground. He uses it to point to the two largest cases, and I see the masked men exchange confused looks. “Good to see you too, JJ.”

“You the reason I’m here?”

“Kind of,” I admit, my eyes cutting to Rosalind at my side. “We’re looking for someone. Thought you might be able to put the word out.”

“Of course,” JJ’s arms cross over his chest, the dark sleeves of his shirt straining against the motion. “Who is it?”

Grant clears his throat but gestures for me to take the conversation. His eyes are locked on our brothers, who are now attempting to smooth over an argument between the masked 714 members. “It’s a baby. Or, she was a baby three years ago.”

JJ doesn’t say anything, but the darkened eye sockets of his mask stay trained on me. He appears to be oblivious to the fact that one of his men is now being physically restrained by Merrick.

“She would have been smuggled out of Chandler. Most likely by a woman. We need any information you can track down.”

The golden mask tilts, a subtle shift but an easy one to track. He’s looking at Rosalind. “A GiGi baby?”

“Yes.”

Behind JJ, one of the 714 members jumps on Maddock’s back, grabbing the prybar before Maddock can bring it down on his companion’s head. “You’re the one Dodge kept around?”

“Yes.” Merrick drags the man off Maddock’s back, only to get shoved backward over the crate they all seem to be fighting over.

“I’m glad you got out.”

“Me, too,” Rosalind admits, and I feel her relax at my side. “Do you know anything about my daughter?”

“No,” his tone is far more gentle than I’ve ever heard it before. “But I will do my best to find out. Is there anywhere in particular that I should start?”

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