Page 118 of Lamb

Chains kept his deep brown eyes focused on the large threat in front of him, figuratively and physically; a wise choice. In the unlikely event that violence would occur, it’d be under Wolf’s order.

“You’re under investigation,” Chains caved, the words coming out on a hurried breath.

“That’s nothing new.” Wolf shrugged, unperturbed.

I reached for the sugar shaker and rocked it back and forth as the sugar sifted into my drink. I caught the wiry Runner watching me, disgust growing across his ghostly features as the granules endlessly poured into the black abyss.

“Even if it’s the FBI?”

That caught my attention.

Wolf showed nothing, and much to his credit, neither did Hunter. They were well-trained. I was proud.

I set down the sugar, picking up my spoon and stirring a whirlpool into the surface, the grains of sugar scratching at the bottom of the mug. “Can’t see why the FBI would be sniffing around us,” I interjected, eyes transfixed on the vortex in my drink.

“Not sure who you’ve pissed off, but orders came from up top. It’s an undercover investigation and—”

I scoffed.

Chains stared at me, waiting for something to follow. Nothing did. I continued to stir, and he turned back to Wolf.

“They’re building evidence, but it won’t be long before they turn up with the battering ram.”

“What evidence?” Wolf’s eyes were swallowed into the inset of a deep frown. His expression was stern but not concerned, as he did well to smother the growing tension rippling across the surface of his arms and knuckles concealed beneath the table. I’d known the Russian giant for a long time, and his subtle motions were glaringly obvious to me now. He was an open book. An angry, mistranslated, dusty, old book.

“Free trial is over.” Chains straightened, hand reaching to push a lock of curly blond hair out of his face. “You want the rest of the information, we need a deal.”

Wolf barked a harsh laugh. He leaned back into the booth, arms folding over his chest, chin held high as he regarded the younger man. “It seems the pup has finally learned how to bark.”

“I’ve got a club to run, just like you, Wolf.” Chains rolled back his shoulders, chest puffed out, confidence controlling his expression. “I can do much more than bark.”

“The bravado is cute,” I sighed, abandoning my coffee. “But we need to get back on track.” I slid my coffee forward, toward my wired friend, and he gave it a fearful glare. “Make your offer.”

“I want a route through Fellpeak.”

I’d have spat out my coffee had I drank it. For dramatic flair, of course. I wasn’t surprised by his words; my network tracked his every move, word, and breath. From the way Chains had been working to revive the once-collapsed Hell’s Runners, I figured something like this would be his next move.

“You’re biting off more than you can chew,” Wolf warned, his teasing tone turned threatening.

The audacity to ask the club for passage rights, even temporarily, was a big one. Lending territory was considered taboo for clubs without prior affiliation; never mind one with a blood-soaked history.

“Big risks mean big gains.” Chains shrugged, but the movement was stiff. The relaxed and confident air he was boasting was paper thin. I marveled at his attempts to play in the big league.

Wolf was a seasoned veteran in the MC world, and being a president, Chains wouldn’t have an easy time with this negotiation.

“What makes you think this information is worth it?” Wolf leaned forward, his imposing seven-foot body was the size of a small mountain, even folded into the tight diner booth.

“Something is only worth what someone is willing to pay,” Chains responded, fighting not to mirror Wolf’s body language. A natural behavioral response. “And I bet you’ll be willing to pay.”

“I’ll make that bet,” I interrupted, capturing Chains’ attention. It was rude not to pay attention to me. It wasn’t often I sat at the table of a business meeting and was ignored. “We’ll decide once you give us the information. If it’s worth it, you can have atemporarypass to run through Fellpeak. But itwillbe escorted, and it will require prior notice.”

Chains’ dark eyes betrayed his relief, but I wasn’t finished yet.

“If itisn’t worth it, that pass won’t be instated, but you will still receiveappropriate compensation.”

I would cross-check the information myself; I had many strings at my disposal, and my connections would quickly spin the truth. Depending on the outcome, the Black Angels would honor whatever deal was made today. If any of the information turned out to be false, or a red herring, well … they’dhonor itdifferently.

Chains weighed the options. Brown eyes jumped between the president and me as if he might glean any more information to sway his decision. There would be none.

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