Page 58 of Traitor

Gloria finally returned from the distillery with three shots and a bottled water. “Take this,” she handed one to each of us before taking the third. “To health,” she stated before downing hers.

“To health,” we repeated.

“It was not so easy to get this. Dave, he’s a drinker. I had to have Jimmy drive me over to the liquor store to pick some up.” Gloria said all of this in a conspiratorial tone before realizing that Lauren and I still had some things to discuss.

She slipped back out, closing the door softly behind her, as Lauren turned her emerald eyes on me and sighed, “Can I get up now?”

I pulled her legs off the bed and helped her into a sitting position. When she remained conscious, I brought her back up to her feet. She closed her eyes briefly before righting herself. “I’m okay.”

I pulled her into my chest. “I’m not.”

She looked up at me. “I didn’t mean that—obviously, I’m not fine with the way things are between us. I just need some time to think about it.”

I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

What was done was done. I could only sit back and hope that the pros outweighed the cons when it came to us.

“How many of your prospects have gotten picked up in the last few weeks?”

Grey thought it over before responding with, “Six. Can’t get any charges that’ll stick though.”

I kicked my feet up on my coffee table and leaned back into the couch. “I think it might be time to leave runs to the ol’ ladies and hang-arounds. Until I know who’s working against us from the inside, it’s not safe.”

He scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I can’t stand to lose my prospects if there’s a bust. Jarvis looked into Lauren’s new man—he’s a Fed.”

I shook my head. I wanted to say that I was surprised, but the guy had given himself away with his actions at the gym. Not that I wasn’t grateful as fuck that he’d kept her safe. I was. I just knew that no civilian could’ve pulled off what he did and managed to come out of it scratch-free.

“Let me guess…FBI?”

“No. CIA operative of some sort. Jarvis hacked as far as he could, but this guy’s security clearance must be pretty high, nearly everything we could find was heavily redacted. Had a fiancée, but she died in a terrorist bombing.”

I took a long pull from my beer bottle. “Fuck. That’s heavy. You think he’s investigating the club?”

He shook his head. “I think he’s running from something. I mean, who the fuck settles in Lubbock when they’ve got the ability to live anywhere?”

He had a point. If you weren’t a college student, there wasn’t a hell of a lot else for you to do to stay entertained.

“You been toLeather & Lacelately?” Grey asked nonchalantly, as if he and I frequently hit up biker bars together.

“I haven’t seen the inside of that place in years. Are there still patchwhores waiting outside the men’s room?”

Grey chuckled and gave a nod. “That hasn’t changed. I’d like to stop by once it closes here in a few—see if anyone knows anything.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “What are you thinking they know?”

His jaw gave a soft pop as he ground down on his back teeth. “What I think is that someone is using a bar that I fucking own to pass information along to the Sons. Explain to me how that happens.”

I didn’t know how it was happening. All I knew is that this war had grown to wildfire proportions. And right now it was impossible to guess which way the wind was going to shift.

We finished our beers in silence before I followed him outside. He insisted on taking his bike. “I ain’t wearing my colors in a cage.”

I’d forgotten about that protocol. SPMC rules stated that no club member desecrate their colors by wearing them inside a cage, or vehicle, to normal people.

Despite my warnings, Grey insisted that his men still wear their colors when riding. Once they arrived somewhere, they were under strict orders to shed the kuttes and not draw attention to themselves.

We pulled up outside ofLeather & Lacejust as the sun began to lighten the sky. There were still a few bikes parked along the side of the bar, the die-hards who just didn’t know when to quit.

We walked through the permanent haze of smoke and made our way up to the bar. As we got closer, I was able to make out the bikers who had decided that they weren’t going down until the sun came up. Grey moved on toward the back, but I stopped, distracted by the multitude of colored wings on one of the biker’s kuttes.

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