Page 54 of Ruger's Rage

It doesn’t take long before we’re piling in the room and I’m seated at the head of the redwood table.

"What we know," I begin, settling back in my chair, "is that someone torched the Vultures' Amity clubhouse last night and left our patch behind."

"We didn't hit them," Maddox states, his massive arms crossed. "So who did?"

"Striker," Bloodhound answers before I can. "Has to be."

I nod, acknowledging the obvious suspect. "He knows our protocols, our marks. He's positioning the Vultures to retaliate against us for something we didn't do."

"So what's the play?" Ounce asks.

"First, we find out exactly what happened. Bloodhound, you and Maddox head to Amity. Talk to your sources, get surveillance footage if it exists."

Bloodhound nods. "Copy."

"Second, we enhance security at all our locations. Double patrols, check-ins every two hours. No one rides alone until we know what we're dealing with."

The brothers nod, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Third," I continue, "we need to identify the weak link. Someone's feeding information to Striker. Could be a prospect, a hang-around, even someone's pissed off ex-ol’ lady. It’s not exactly like we change our protocols often enough."

The tension in the room ratchets up.

The notion that one of our own might be betraying us sits heavy among us all.

"Every prospect goes under the microscope," I order. "Check phones, check movements, check bank accounts. Someone's not loyal, and I want to know who before the Vultures come knocking for revenge."

I slam my gavel down and outside in the hallway are our prospects… but one of them is drawing my eye.

Rookie—our newest prospect—shifts nervously in his chair.

Kid's been with us less than a year, transferred from Chicago to attend WVU.

He's Digger's cousin, which earned him consideration, but something about his body language triggers my instincts.

I make a mental note to have Bloodhound dig deeper into his background.

Not an accusation, just doing my due diligence. Something is bothering the kid and that’s enough to raise a red flag up for me.

As the brothers fan out, I lift my chin at Rookie. "Need you to keep eyes on Backroads today," I tell him. "Discreet, from a distance. Anyone suspicious shows up, you call me directly."

"You got it, Prez." His eyes don't quite meet mine. "Anything specific I should watch for?"

"Male, late thirties, average build. Came asking about Tildie yesterday."

"The thick bartender?" He looks surprised. "What's so special about her?"

The urge to grab him by the throat for the dismissive tone is immediate.

I tamp it down, reminding myself that he doesn't know Tildie's significance to me.

"She's under our protection," I grit out. "That makes her special enough."

"Copy that, Prez." His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "I'll watch her back."

Something feels off, but I can't place it.

Could be nothing—kid's always been nervous around me.

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