Page 45 of Butcher

As soon as Isla had told us about this office, Rip had hacked into the video surveillance to get the lay of the land. Not once had he seen Randal moving anything out of here or we would have moved on him faster than we did.

“This asshole seems to be one step ahead of us every time,” Toxic said, rolling a cigar between his fingers.

“Hey!” Smoke snapped. “Where’d you get that?” He pulled the cigar box out from under his cut and counted how many cigars were still in it. His eyes narrowed. “You took one.”

“Prove it,” Toxic said, placing the cigar between his teeth and giving Smoke a feral smile.

“Asshole.” Smokehouse scowled at him as he put his precious cargo away and left a hand over it, in case Toxic went back for round two.

We pulled away from the curb, eager to get some distance between us and the destroyed alleyway. We weren’t exactly keen to see the fucking cops again so soon after all the Fremont bullshit, so the last thing we wanted was to be caught at the scene. We followed Lock and pulled into a parking lot a few miles away.

“What’s the plan?” Smoke asked.

“I’m betting Static might have some contacts we can shake down,” I told the group. At least his lawyer bullshit was helpful for something. Though, he had gotten us out of jail a couple times, too.

“Ricochet, Smoke, head back to the clubhouse. Tell Static to come meet us. We’ll see if we can find anyone who knows anything about this piece of shit,” Lock ordered.

“I’ll go, too,” I offered. “I want to drop Isla back at the clubhouse.”

She’d been quiet for the last little bit as we planned, but now she gave a squawk of protest. “I can help!”

“You have any associates who will give this guy up?” Lock asked.

“No,” she admitted.

“Any other contacts in Tucson we can talk to?” Lock continued.

“No.” I didn’t look behind me, but I knew she had a mulish expression on her face now. I could hear it in her tone.

“What is it you can help us with then?”

“I’m good at torturing people for information,” she answered.

“That’s what he’s for,” Lock pointed at me. His eyes met mine and I shook my head at his silent question. If I’d asked for her to stay with us he would’ve happily let her come along. But I wanted her back at the clubhouse where it was safe. I didn’t care that she’d made a career of killing people, you never knew what could happen and I’d feel better having her back at home. Besides, if they managed to get a bomb in under our noses, then having our own assassin hiding in a closet might be the safest thing for the women and kids. “Come back with Static once you drop her off.”

“I’ll ride with them,” Toxic offered.

I nodded and started up my bike. The five of us pulled away from the others and headed back toward the clubhouse. Once we parked our bikes and walked toward the building, I looked over at Isla. She didn’t look pissed. That was a start. I hadn’t known her very long, so I was just guessing that’s how she’d react.

“I’d rather have you here protecting the other women,” I told her. It was partially the truth.

She shot me a sidelong look and shook her head. “Yeah. Okay.”

“That’s it?” I asked, pausing, letting the others get ahead of us.

She shrugged. “What do you want me to say, Butcher?”

“I don’t know... I figured you’d be pissed.”

She sighed. “You guys are helping me. Going to a lot of trouble, too. If this is where you want me I’ll play ball, for now,” she warned. “But I’m not much for team activities. I’m a bit of a loner, if you haven’t noticed. If you try to keep me from participating when you go after Randal, I’ll just follow you and show up when you least expect it.”

I grinned at her. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You swear?”

“Yeah.” I held her stare. “I might be an asshole, Terror, but I keep my promises. You can come when we go to take down Randal.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and it thrilled me to realize it was because she was taking me at my word. I nodded at the clubhouse door where Static was exiting. “Go inside. Stay there.”

---