Page 65 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“That’s enough.” Hawk’s voice is icy cold. “We’re all a bit on edge.”

Gunnar holds up his hands as if he’s admitting defeat. God—I want to punch him right in his rat-like face. Hawk releases me, but I don’t back down. Instead, I let my height do the talking, towering over Gunnar like a wall, daring him to fight me.

“Why are you so sure she’s the mole, Gunnar?” Vance asks, spinning the knife in his palm, around and around.

“She shows up, you’re distracted, Dead Demons are closing in and the police happen to burn our fields. Facts add up.”

“You seem awfully keen on getting rid of her. We’ve had issues before she showed up,” Hawk says.

Gunnar sneers. “I’m merely looking out for the club. Figure we could just cut our losses now and deal with her before she brings more heat down on us.”

Vance leans back, keeping his gaze zoned in on the steel.

“I don’t know a lot of feds that start a fire,” he mutters.

“No, but Reynolds plays dirty,” I say.

“He always has,” Hawk adds on, as he becomes lost in his own thoughts. I see the subtle shift in his features as he’s no longer listening to Gunnar but studying him like some kind of exhibit.

“Probably because she did it herself,” Gunnar hisses.

“Sit your ass down,” I growl under my breath, taking a step toward him. I’m just waiting for Hawk to give me the okay to bring this shit down to the ground where he belongs. He rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head.

“Sit. Down,” Hawk commands. Gunnar raises his hands in the air as though he’s done nothing wrong.

He returns to his seat, sinking back into the shadows of the garage’s corner.

“Something tells me we’ve got a bigger problem to deal with than this girl.” I mutter under his breath, my eyes snap onto Gunnar who opens his mouth to argue, but Hawk cuts him off with a sharp gesture.

“No more discussing, Izzy. Do you understand me?”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the room, though I can see the unease in their eyes. They’re worried, but most trust Hawk’s judgment. More importantly, they’re scared to defy our president.

For now.

The room seems smaller than usual, suffocating even.

After the meeting adjourns, the three of us are relieved to be out of the garage and under the wide star lit sky.

I light a joint outside, leaning against the wall.

“Fuck.” I suck in a lungful of smoke, hoping it will ease the tightness in my chest, but it doesn’t work.

“Give me a hit of that,” Hawk says, appearing at my side. Vance stands in his shadow, still mindlessly playing with his blade. Reluctantly I hand Hawk the joint.

His eyes are shadowed, the toll of the past days evident in the deep lines etched across his face.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“No shit,” Vance mutters, earning a sharp look from Hawk.

“There’s unrest, whispers. Someone’s trying to stir up trouble, and it’s making it damn hard to think straight with everything else going on.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the wall.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.

“Wish I was, but my gut is telling me something’s off, but I can’t pin it down. And with the fields burning, Izzy’s situation, and the feds, I can’t afford to be wrong.”

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