Page 22 of Property of Spike

“Go, Spike!” Knuckles shouts. “I’ll cover the buyer.”

“You know what to do, brothers,” I say over the comms. “Break formation and take your detours back. Meet back at the compound.”

My club is well-trained for any situation that may happen during a run. Tonight, they know to separate into small groups and take random routes back to their sectors. However, today, I want them all to return to the main clubhouse. This hour-long trip will take two to three to get back home. But the safety of our family comes first. Some of the brothers have wives and kids that live on or near their clubhouses.

Holstering my gun, I take the lead of my small group as the truck trails us, headlights glinting in my mirrors. My hand brushes the grip of my weapon. If this turns into a chase, things are gonna get ugly fast.

“Tank, hard right!” I order.

Tank veers off-road, his vehicle bouncing across the uneven terrain. We follow suit, bikes tearing through the desert as the truck struggles to keep pace. A series of sharp turns finally leaves them in the dust. By the time we reach the compound two hours later, they’re long gone.

The men regroup, pulling into the lot. I dismount, my jaw tight as Knuckles pulls in behind me.

“Buyer’s safe,” he says, shutting off his engine.

Nodding, I survey the group. They’re waiting. Tense.

“We have a fucking traitor,” I yell. “Go to the basement and choose a fucking cot to sleep on. No one leaves until I find out who the fuck to kill.”

Skip falls in beside me as we head inside. “Could’ve been on the buyer’s side.”

“Thought of that,” I admit. “But it doesn’t add up. Why ambush us during the transfer instead of waiting for the buyer to be alone?”

Knuckles grunts. “And why follow us back? It’s likely they already know where to find us. The compound isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

I turn to Tank. “Get me a list of everyone who ran today. Apart from the East Chapter, us, and the ten men I handpicked, who else knew about the drop?”

“Just the buyer and seller,” Tank replies. “We’ve dealt with both for years. We’ve never had an issue. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this does,” I mutter. “Tell Mike to lock the gate. No one in or out until I give the all clear. And order food. We’re not starving just because I’m pissed.”

Tank nods. “Got it, Prez. What’s next?”

“Right now, I’m gonna grab a beer and go check on our guest.”

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Doing just that, I grab my beer and race up the stairs. I’m not any less pissed off by the time I reach her door, but I refrain from banging harshly, knowing that Asher is probably asleep. No answer.

“Riley,” I say. “It’s Spike. You awake?”

Again, no answer.

Probably sleeping. I just need to peek in and make sure she’s alright, for sanity’s sake.

However, when I open the door, she’s not there. I know she didn’t leave. Mike would have texted me. Pulling out my phone, I double check and don’t see any missed messages.

Rushing to the kitchen, I only find Skip eating.

Bathroom. Maybe she’s showering. Not caring one bit for her modesty, I stride right in but find it empty.

“What’s up, Spike?” Maverick asks.

“Riley’s gone,” I say. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Check the cameras,” he says. “You know Mike didn’t let her through the gate. That means she’s still here somewhere. Probably just wandering.”

Heading toward my office, I open the door and freeze. Riley is fast asleep on my couch, and Asher’s asleep on the floor cushioned by a blanket. Riley’s hand is resting near his head almost as if she was reaching for him in her sleep.

“I’ll keep everyone out,” Maverick whispers. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

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