Page 7 of Elling & Jackie

Chapter 3

Roar stood at the windowinside The Fire Ring with Brage. Elling sat down on the stool at the bar, eyeing them for any change in the situation outside. Viktor had arrived back at the clubhouse and informed everyone that Agent Campbell was once again parked between the bar and Roar and Lizzy's house across the street.

With a clear view of the bar, Campbell could also keep an eye on Slag members coming and going from the clubhouse.

The bar wasn't even open for the night. Any movement outside the confines of Slag would be noted.

Brage turned from the window and zeroed in on Elling. "Want to take our friend for a ride?"

Until he replaced the ignition on his motorcycle, he wouldn't put his freedom on the line if there was any moisture in the air. But, the weather was perfect, and he could ride the asphalt.

"Ja." He stood. "Do you need a diversion or for me to get rid of him?"

His loyalty to Slag came from his blood. As a second-generation member, hailing from Norway, he would always put himself in front, beside, behind his club to protect, honor, and support.

Roar walked away from the window. "We need a half hour so the crews can go out and collect."

Once a month, Slag members met with Blue and Red, two gangs that covered the Pacific Northwest inside and outside of the prison systems. Slag had threatened and taken the contracts away from Moroad MC. That extortion money was split three ways between the Slag Motorcycle Club in Norway, the Slag Seattle Chapter, and the Portland Chapter.

"Do you want me to call in Rune to ride with you?" asked Brage.

"No, I'm good alone." He patted his vest, reassuring himself that the pistol in the inside pocket was there. "I can handle one Fed. You guys watch..."

He exhaled and walked away from them without finishing his parting. They didn't need to hear him say to watch their backs. He wouldn't want to jinx them like he had his parents on the two separate days that they'd died.

In the alley, he went straight to his Harley. A baby's cry reached him, and he stopped.

Peer walked toward him with his son, Tyr, in his arms. He waited in case he was needed, but his MC brother walked past him and sat on his Harley, balancing the child on his knee, while starting the motorcycle. Elling's amusement got smothered by the rumble of the engine.

He'd seen Peer sit on his bike with his son many times. The noise and vibrations soothed the child and gave the single-father a break from the crying.

Tyr might be eight months old, but Elling had no doubt, the kid would grow up to be a Slag member because of the early training.

He checked his bags, making sure he had everything in case he was kept away from the clubhouse or things got ugly with the Fed chasing him. Once on the road, he'd only have himself to rely on. He'd need to stay focused.

Putting on his helmet, sunglasses, and gloves, he started his Harley and rode toward the gate. Dag, one of the prospects, slid the solid metal barrier out of the way. He lifted his chin and rode out. At the cross street, he revved the engine, getting the attention of the Federal Agent.

Campbell swung his head in his direction and leaned forward in the driver's seat, starting his car. Elling pulled out into traffic and headed south, planning to go over the bridge and take the agent on a tour of downtown before losing him. Maybe the asshole would get tired of driving around and go back to the hotel and leave Slag alone for the rest of the day.

Hell, it wasn't even five o'clock. What would Campbell think Slag was doing at such an early hour?

At the first intersection, the light turned red on him. He braked, coming to a stop with his front tire in the crosswalk.

In his side mirror, he spotted the agent's unmarked sedan two vehicles behind him. Per the law, Campbell couldn't stop him. The Fed could approach him on the street, but unless he had a warrant for his arrest—which he didn't—or he gained a search warrant from the judge, all Campbell could do was follow him in hopes that he would break the law.

The signal light changed to green. He throttled the motorcycle. Keeping to the speed limit, he headed toward the bridge. His purpose wasn't to lose the agent. He needed him to follow, putting distance between the Slag members riding away from the clubhouse.

Acting like he had somewhere to go, he stayed in the right lane going over the Willamette River and arrived downtown with his mission accomplished. Now he could have some fun with Campbell.

He went up to the one-way street, crossed the Max rail twice, circled Pioneer Square three times. Amused at the determination of the agent to stay on his tail when pedestrians walked out on the street between them, he sped up each time the people delayed the Fed.

Any excuse to get out and ride made him happy. The sky was clear, the temperature hovered around seventy-two degrees. After the crews from Slag returned, he'd celebrate alongside them.

Going by the Colman Hotel, he looked in his side mirror. Agent Campbell slowed, turning onto the side street. Knowing the Fed used the parking garage on the side, he'd succeeded in pushing the man's patience, and he'd given up, knowing it was a useless trip to follow him.

To be sure Campbell was going to stay put for a while, he went two more blocks before turning and working his way down the next street, setting him up in the direction of the bridge.

The car in front of him slowed and came to a stop at the red light. He squeezed the brake and put his boots on the asphalt. Several people rushed to cross the street.

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