Page 104 of Mensa's Match

Two-Times arched his brows. “He’s a prospect. He wouldn’t know that she’s been taken already and he also wouldn’t know that we’re aware she’s MIA.”

Roman, who sat next to Two-Times, shook his head. “Corrupt Chrome won’t let him through the gates. They see a prospect patch on his cut, they know he’s aligned himself with us, and it’s no better than me or you trying to get through.”

“I want Rod’s address,” Mensa said.

“You can follow me to that address,” Block said.

“Give me the address, Block.”

“No. We’re your brothers. We have your back. From the thunder on your face alone, you need us at your back.”

That tracked, and Mensa took a deep breath.

“Told you ‘Thunder’ should have been his road name,” Cynic muttered.

Har looked around the table. “Block, Cynic, Mensa, and Finn are headed to Rod’s address. Once we know he hasn’t taken Whitney there, the rest of us will ride out to the Corrupt Chrome clubhouse.”

“Earlier, I thought we wanted to strike when it was just prospects manning the perimeter. What changed?” Gamble asked.

“My woman going missing is what changed.”

Gamble looked between Mensa and Har.

“He’s right. All bets are off now. We’re done,” Har said, and swung his gavel.

Block pushed back from the table and stood. “You got your gun on you?”

Mensa shook his head.

Finn rose from his seat. “I need to grab my gun, too.”

Cynic stood. “Hurry up.”

As he leaned into the turn onto Halstead Road, Mensa wondered what the hell Rod did to afford a house in this sleepy neighborhood. The area wasn’t flashy, but house prices were steep, and rents were high, too. Then again, dealing drugs and other crimes paid well… until the cops found out.

A Harley sat in the middle of one driveway, and Mensa knew that had to be the house.

Block pulled ahead of Cynic to lead the way up the drive. Finn and Mensa brought their bikes to a halt near the parked Harley.

Finn swung off his bike. “Why does this feel like a trap?”

Mensa took off his helmet. “It’s not a trap if we don’t do anything illegal.”

Before either of them made their way up the sidewalk, the front door opened and a white-haired, elderly man stepped out on the front porch carrying a shotgun. A cigarette dangled from his lips and his arms were heavily inked, though the tats were hard to make out on his wrinkled skin.

He shuffled forward on his open-toed, leather sandals. “You assholes get off my property!”

“Sir, is Rod here?” Block asked loudly.

“I’m Rod, and I want you to leave.”

“What the fuck?” Finn muttered.

Now the address made more sense…a decade ago, this house would have been affordable. If the house belonged to this old codger, Rod probably felt safe dropping her here. What better way to hide Whitney, than to leave her with an old man.

“Where’s Whitney?” Mensa hollered, in part so the man could hear him from ten yards away and partly so Whitney would hear him if she were inside.

“I don’t know any Whitley.”

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