Page 6 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

Inwardly chuckling, I show them my finger.

I drink my coffee made just the way I like it, then do a stock take, checking we’ve all the parts we’re likely to need, ordering where we’re running low. Then I go give Ross a hand tracking down a fault of a newer model car. Diagnostic tools are okay, except when they give vague results. Sometimes I wonder whether Token should be working here, as it’s more often computer work than mechanical nowadays. Give me an old-fashioned engine and I’ll be satisfied.

I suppose it must be a couple of hours later that I realise Niran’s not come in. It’s not that we keep strict working hours—members share the profits, so we all put in the time—but Niran’s a creature of habit, and normally appears at the day’s start.

“Hey, anyone heard from Niran?”

My shouted query addressed to no one in particular gets only shrugs of shoulders or the odd, Dunno, in response. So thinking it’s best to go straight to the horse’s mouth and call him, I take out my phone.

Damn. It goes straight to voicemail. “Hey, Brother. Give me a shout, yeah?” Message left, I put my phone away.

“Grumbler? That exhaust come in for the Indian?” A head appears around the office door.

“Give me a sec, Gibbs. I’ll go check.”

It seems that it hasn’t and should have been here yesterday. I waste a good few minutes on the phone to the supplier chasing them up.

Ending that call, my phone chimes with another. Picking it up, I expect to hear Niran and answer accordingly. “’Bout fuckin’ time, Niran—”

“Nah, Bro. It’s me, Token. I now suspect you won’t be able to help me. I’m trying to track down Niran. I take it he’s not there?”

“No, and I’ve been trying to call him myself.”

“Damn phone of his. Battery’s fucked. I keep meaning to give him a new one.”

I know all about that. I’ve heard Niran moaning about it enough. “Whatcha want him for? Can I help?”

“I got some info for him. Shit he might want to know.”

“Like?”

“Like get your ass over to the club if you want to find out. I think I need to bring Prez in on this.”

“Wanna tell me the headlines?” I drum my fingers against the top of the desk.

“Crazy Wolves might be making a move.”

I suck in air. This is indeed something Niran should be in on. Knowing there’s no point asking Token for more when he’ll only have to go through it all again, I end with, “I’ll see you in twenty, Brother.”

Leaving the office, I just give a shout, “Heading back to see Prez.”

Damn Niran and that phone of his. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve tried to call him to get no response. He’s got an older smartphone, and the battery life can be fucking erratic. I’ve heard him complaining about it for weeks, but the stupid fucker hasn’t done anything about it.

Being far from the first time I’ve been unable to raise him, I know I should have fucking insisted. I am the sergeant-at-arms for the club.

Crazy Wolves might be on the move.If it’s in our direction, there’s only one reason they’d be heading for San Diego, and that’s to retrieve their VP’s woman—the same Saffie as I was thinking about earlier this morning.

Fuck it, but that girl’s already got far too much on her plate. I know Niran fucked up with her. His solution was to bring her into the club and under our protection as his old lady. But Saffie had good reason not to want to be club property again, and didn’t appreciate the suggestion.

While as far as I know, she’s kicked him to the kerb, he indeed needs to know this new information. The plans to move Saffie out of state should be enacted immediately.

It’s only when I near the club that I start to wonder whether Niran’s phone did die on him, and whether there’s another reason we can’t contact him.

Backing my bike into its familiar spot, I extract the key and listen for a moment to the engine ticking. Where the fuck are you, Niran? My guess at this time of day would be the clubhouse or the shop, and as Token’s based here and called me, he’s not at either of those. When my phone vibrates, I take it out, and glancing at the screen see Token’s just sent a group text.

Token: Anyone know where Niran went?

There’s no need for me to respond. He already knows I don’t. I pull my leg over the seat and head on into the building.

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