Page 63 of Static

"E-excuse me?" the woman said, looking surprised.

"I'll take them," I answered, giving her a smile. Pulling out my wallet, I took out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "You take hundreds?"

"Oh yes," she said, taking it from me and dutifully counting back my change. "That's a lovely choice," she said with a beaming smile as she hurried around the counter.

She babbled on about the kind of flowers, but I wasn't really listening. They were bright and looked like flowers. I had a feeling Gwen would love them. That was all I needed.

"Kiss ass," Idaho muttered while the woman rushed into the back to get a ribbon to tie on the vase.

"You're just mad you didn't think of it," I told him with a grin.

"Those are going to be a pain in the ass on your bike," Rip pointed out.

I shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

"Smart," Lock said with an appreciative look.

"What is?" Idaho asked.

"He's checking the twenty he got back," Lock replied in a low voice. "See if there's anything distinguishing it."

Realization dawned in the other men's gazes.

"Maybe we need more bills to compare it to," Rip suggested. He and Idaho both ended up buying flowers for their old ladies while we waited.

"Tara?"

We all turned and watched as a man rushed forward, looking pissed.

"What's with all the fucking bikers outs-" he broke off as he came around a display case and saw us standing there. He swallowed back whatever else he was going to say and pasted on a fake smile. "Hi, gentleman. What can I do for you?"

Lock gave us an amused look before he focused on the man. "You're the owner?"

"Yeah. How can I help you today?"

"Well," Lock drawled, leaning a hip against the counter. "For starters, you can stop laundering money for John Fremont."

I couldn't help but snort out a laugh. Lock's blunt request made this guy's face turn a mottled shade of red, then it leeched straight out to bone white. He was staring at Lock with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Who the hell is John Fremont?"

Lock gave a slight frown. "You mean, you don't know who it is you're working for?"

"Excuse me?" That came from behind us.

Tara's eyes flashed as she glared at her brother. "What are they talking about, Troy?"

"Nothing. They're fucking mistaken," he bit out through clenched teeth.

Lock raised a brow and shot Riptide a look.

Rip reached back over the counter, ignoring Tara's squawk of disapproval and grabbed the monitor showing all four corners of the store. He set to work, doing whatever the hell it was he did with his phone and within minutes a video started to play remotely on the screen.

Even Tara came around the counter, holding her elbows, to watch as Fremont strolled through the door. She looked so lost, I almost felt sorry for her. "Who is that?" she asked the room.

"That's Fremont," I told her. "A dirty district attorney who's struck up a bargain with your brother here."

Her head whipped around, and she searched her brother's face. "What have you done?"

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