Page 69 of Property of Spike

The big man nods, pulling out his phone. A few moments later, three separate screens light up on the big monitor mounted on the wall.

“Prez,” multiple voices call out.

“Brothers,” Spike greets. “Yell for those nearest to you to come into view.”

It takes seconds for dozens of men to appear on screen.

“Quick question,” Spike says. “Who is this?”

He glances at me, and Tank steps out of frame.

“Hey, it’s the first lady.”

“It’s Riley.”

“My old lady can’t wait to meet you.”

“We need to plan a visit.”

“That’ll be all, brothers. Thanks.”

The screens go blank, and Spike turns back to me, his face deadly serious.

“Every single member of my club knows who the fuck you are, baby,” he says. “They know your name. They know your face. They even know your voice. Every. Single. Member.”

He takes a deep breath, then finally walks over, pulling me into his arms like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

“So, who the fuck was inside my compound and near my woman?”

“I’m checking gate security,” Foster says, sitting at a desk full of computers. “Looks like we had two visitors about half an hour ago.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Spike snaps, his voice razor-sharp. “Who was on gate duty?”

“Mike,” Foster answers.

Spike’s expression darkens. “Bring him to me. Now.”

“I thought Mike was in the clear?” Skip asks, his gaze darting between them. “What the hell is going on, Spike?”

Spike doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns to Max. “Once you get gate security in place, go find my sister. Make sure she’s secure.” His grip tightens on my arm as he guides me down into his chair. “Take my boy with you. If shit goes down, I don’t want him anywhere near it.”

The room shifts into motion around me. Men bark orders. Phones ring. The hum of tension is thick, suffocating. My pulse pounds in my ears as I struggle to keep up with what’s happening.

Then the door swings open.

“What’s up?” Mike asks as he steps inside, his expression relaxed.

Spike’s grip on the back of my chair tightens until I hear the frame groan under his fingers. “Did you let someone through the gates half an hour ago?”

Mike nods. “Yeah. Why?”

“You know no one gets in without an officer’s approval,” Spike growls.

“I had approval,” Mike says, frowning. “Your cousin came by with a friend. Said he needed to talk to you about something. I called it in before opening the gate.”

A murmur ripples through the room.

“Billy is blacklisted,” Spike says, his voice eerily calm. The kind of calm that comes before an explosion. “No one would approve his entrance unless I said otherwise.”

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