Page 105 of Mensa's Match

“Whitney!” Mensa yelled to correct the man and in an added effort to get her attention.

Cynic turned toward Mensa. “I don’t think she’s here.”

Block had edged closer to the house. “Do you have a son named Rodney?”

“Not any damn more. He got caught up with assholes like you.”

“Let’s go,” Finn muttered.

Cynic nodded and moved toward his bike.

Block hadn’t moved yet, and Mensa wondered if this old man were putting on an act.

The sound of another motorcycle coming down the street grabbed their attention, and all of them turned toward the sound.

Scrap rolled up on his used motorcycle.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Finn asked before Mensa could.

Scrap swung off his bike and prowled up the drive. Once he was near Mensa and Finn, he said in a low voice, “Har and Tiny sent me in case this doesn’t pan out. He wants one of us to stick around. That’s why I parked in the street. He can’t make a complaint—”

Mensa shot Scrap some side-eye. “He can make a complaint; the cops won’t be able to do much about it… at least not legally. Depends on the cops who shows up.”

Finn nodded. “He’s right. You’re gonna have to wing that, so don’t mouth off to the police.”

“I told you assholes to leave!” Rod yelled.

Block held his hands up. “We’re leaving, sir. Before we go, though, there’s a missing woman. Her name is Whitney. If your son brings her by—”

“I ain’t got no son!” Rod shouted.

Block gave a deep nod. “Understood, sir. If Rodney Lewis brings a woman here, please, for her sake, call 911.”

The man acted as though he hadn’t heard a word Block said. “Are you gettin’ off my property or what?”

Block didn’t respond, but gave Cynic a nod to mount up. Finn moved to his bike.

Mensa noticed Block heading toward him and Scrap. “Don’t go anywhere yet, Scrap.”

As soon as he was within earshot, Block said, “Scrap, you’re gonna have to ride away, and figure out how you can watch this place without this old man knowing you’ve got eyes on him.”

“Are you shittin’ me?” Scrap asked.

Mensa fought a grin. “Surprised you’re not up for it. There’s another street, two blocks from here. I suggest parking your bike on that street and coming back on foot.”

“In broad daylight,” Scrap complained.

Mensa shot him a look. “Figure it out, Scrap. Whitney’s missing, and we need your help.”

That shut him up, and he moved to his bike.

Block sighed. “Let’s head to the Corrupt Chrome clubhouse.”

Mensa gave him a half-nod. “Right. Why do you sound doubtful?”

Block shook his head. “Not doubtful. Just really thought the asshole would have dropped Whitney here. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who’s easy to contain. If it were me, I wouldn’t want her at my clubhouse.”

“That doesn’t help, Block. If anything, it makes me think he’s taken her somewhere else that we don’t know about.”

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