Page 25 of Kilo's Edge

“Hey man, things are good. How about you?”

“Doing decent. I was wondering if I could bother you for a favor?”

I met Cynic on one of our deployments. We’d clicked right away and spent the whole deployment fucking off when we weren’t busy with actual work. We’d stayed in contact ever since. He was a part of the Berserker’s Rage MC over in Wyoming and was the one who’d introduced us to our new friends down in Tucson.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Gotta piece of shit bothering a couple of friends down here. Any way you could have Glitch run a plate for me? Get me an address?”

Cynic’s chuckle was dark because he knew exactly what I needed an address for without having to be told. Glitch was their resident technological rain man. “Yeah, send it to me and I’ll have him send over the info.”

“Thanks, Bro. You coming down this way anytime soon?”

“Don't think so, Cypher’s keeping us busy.”

“Well, the next time I find myself up that way, I'll stop in.”

“You better, fucker.”

We both hung up with that. We didn’t need much more than an occasional check in between seeing each other. Cypher was the president of the Berserkers, and he kept them moving. They were like us, all former military, but some of them, like Cynic, were young. That’s because Cypher poached them away from the military and into his security firm. He had some of the best fighters, amongst other skills, in his club now. Those he could convince to move to that hellhole in Wyoming anyway.

No way I would ever go. Too fucking cold. I was a desert rat, through and through. The most we worried about was monsoons and heat, and that meant riding our motorcycle almost year-round. Those bastards up there dealt with subzero temperatures. No thanks.

The passenger door opened to the cage ride I was in, and I glanced over as Overdrive settled in the passenger seat. “We ready?”

“Almost,” I told him, texting over the plate I'd gotten off of Shawn’s car the other night. That was the only reason I hadn’t followed Camila home. The douche had still been there, working late. It was the perfect time to get what I needed.

I hit another button on the phone and waited.

“Yeah?”

“Hey Prez,” I said, looking at Overdrive. “You need me or OD tonight?”

There was a pause before Ruck spoke again. “No, there’s nothing going on.”

“Okay. We’ll be out of pocket for the night then.”

Another pause. “Something I should know?”

“It’s not club business,” I told him, “but some fucker put his hands on Camila the other day. Scared her a bit. I’m going to take care of it.”

“Need help?”

“Naw, we got this. It’s a no shovel job, so far. Thanks. Really, I’m only bringing OD to keep a lookout. I can take this fucker easy enough.”

Overdrive flipped me off, but kept scrolling on his phone, not worried at all about his part in tonight’s shitshow.

“Sounds good. If you end up needing anything, just give me a call.”

“Thanks, Prez.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“You bringing Camila to the barbecue?”

I could hear the grin in his tone. Fucker. “Yeah,” I muttered. “I’m bringing her.”

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