Page 29 of Property of Spike

Skip’s voice cuts through the heavy silence. “You’re gonna fix this, Spike. Not for me, not for the club. For her. And don’t screw it up this time.”

I let the paper fall to my desk, my jaw tight and my mind racing. Riley’s words echo in my head, mingling with Skip’s condemnation.

“What the fuck did I do?” I mutter, the weight of my actions suffocating me.

“A very stupid thing,” Bones says, his voice calm but firm. “But you’ll fix it. First, we need to deal with the problem at hand.”

I take a deep breath, forcing all thoughts of Riley and Asher to the back of my mind… for now.

“Fucking Mike,” I growl.

“Fucking Mike,” Bones echoes grimly.

“Alright, let me think.” I rise from my desk, pacing as I try to get my thoughts in order. “Max, I need you to get eyes on Riley and fucking Chuck.”

Max frowns. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“We need a damn tech guy,” Knuckles says. “None of us are set up for this kind of thing.”

“What about the guy we hired to scrub Bones out of that surveillance footage?” Tank suggests. “Fox or something?”

“Knox,” Skip corrects with a nod. “The Obsidian.”

“He charges a fucking fortune,” Max points out.

“I don’t care how much it costs. Make it happen,” I snap. “When is Mike’s shift over?”

“He’s training one of the prospects on gate duty,” Max replies. “His break is at three, then he’s heading to the roof with the rifle for a couple of hours.”

“Tell him to meet you in the war room to report on the prospect,” I say, the plan forming quickly in my mind. That kind of request wouldn’t raise any suspicion. Max is in charge of the prospects. It’s routine.

Crusher speaks up, his brow furrowed. “I’ll admit, I’m confused. Mike’s been with us for years. There’s no way he’s been a traitor this whole time. What if Riley’s lying? Or what if she’s just wrong?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Skip says, his signature mischievous smirk returning, tinged with a hint of malice.

***

Mike walks into the war room, and Maverick shuts the door behind him.

“Must be one hell of a prospect to have all the officers here for a report,” Mike says, forcing a smirk. But I can see the nervousenergy rolling off him. He’s trying to play it cool and failing miserably.

“Have a seat, Mike,” I say, nodding toward one of the many chairs at the round table.

He hesitates for only a second before lowering himself into the chair. I lean against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.

“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing around the room.

“Do you know who Riley Hayes is?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.

His brows knit together. “Uh… yeah. She was the woman here with the baby, right? Why?”

“I meant before she came here,” I clarify, my voice calm but firm.

His frown deepens. “No.”

“You sure?” Bones interjects, flipping the chair next to him around and straddling it. “Maybe it was during one of your meetings with the Police Commissioner?”

Mike’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “Fuck,” he whispers.

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