Page 43 of Property of Saint

“Not so fast, Freak. As fanciful as her story sounds, I want to talk to Gris myself.”

He swings to face me, his jaw dropping. “You believe her?”

To be honest, I don’t. It’s far more likely that knowing which way the wind was blowing, she’d try to escape, however unlikely her chances of success. Wouldn’t that be what they’d teach a secret service agent? Do whatever necessary to get the job done or die trying. Problem is, I can’t reconcile his need to just put a bullet in her head with the feelings I’ve started to have about her. Hell, if she wasn’t the government agent that she is, I’d like to explore something I’ve never thought about before. Arelationship with a woman. Shit, do I pick the wrong one when I decide to settle down. Someone I clearly can never have. But that drives me to give her every chance that I would never consider offering to anyone else. “What difference does a few more minutes or even an hour make? If there’s a chance she’s telling the truth, I want to find out.” Glaring at the enforcer, I add, “If there’s one chance in hell we’ve got a traitor in our ranks, I want to know about it.” With a snort, I add, in case he thinks I’ve gone out of my mind, “However unlikely that is.”

Freak stares at me for a moment before his face loses some of its tension and he nods. Then he points his forefinger at Pippa. “You’ve got a reprieve, for now.”

But I’m not letting her off so easily. “Timeline and details,” I snap.

Pushing herself up gingerly with her good arm, she props herself against the pillows. “It was after I’d just been told I’d been suspended, and I didn’t know how to deal with that. I decided to visit the only family I’d ever had, even though it was only their gravestones. I’d underestimated the driving time as there was a pile up on the I10. I was dead beat and knew I needed to plan a stop in my journey. So yeah, it was three evenings ago that I was in Tucson.” She breathes in, leans her head back, and some of the fight leaves her. “Now’s the time to tell me the prospect was here at the club, and I’m completely mistaken.”

Freak and I exchange a glance. We can’t tell her that Gris had had a pass to be absent for the last few nights because of his sick mother. Whatever, he hadn’t been here at the club at the time she reckoned she’d seen him in Tucson. The slight chin lift the enforcer gives me is enough to confirm that, however much we doubt her story, the prospect’s got some explaining to do.

It’s time for a reckoning. Time for someone to find out that nobody fucks with the Kings. And whether that’s her or Gris, one of them will be discovering that to their cost and will be meetingtheir maker. It won’t be one merciful bullet, it will involve a fuckload of pain.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SAINT

As one, we turn and leave the room. As soon as I’m outside, I text Heathen to come stand guard outside the door, to keep it locked, and not go inside. I can’t trust her. Which begs the question, why the fuck did Gris get close enough for her to get the drop on him? If he’d done what was expected, he’d have stayed outside the room. Doesn’t matter whether he was simply curious about the guest who’d arrived when he was gone, or really had wanted to get his dick wet, he’d gone against instructions.

The prospect appears fast and nods to show his compliance. Then Freak and I descend the stairs and into the club room. The bunnies are noticeably absent, and the brothers are quiet. Bullseye steps forward.

“You get any more out of her?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “Enough to make me worried about Gris. Need to check out her story.”

His eyes shutter. “You really think he could be a plant?”

Freak answers for me. “I don’t think the VP wants to believe she’s lying.” I stiffen, but can’t deny, much as I’d hate to havea traitor in the club, a big part of me would prefer her to be innocent. I keep my mouth shut and am surprised when Freak adds, “Even given that, she’s said enough that there are things I want to check out.”

“Like?” Bullseye prompts, his eyes still on me.

“Like when she said he was there in Tucson, he certainly wasn’t here in the club. Also, she told us it had turned rough when she’d called him, and he’d apparently responded to the name, Skunk.”

“And,” I add my two pennies' worth to Freak’s observation, “his manners are more of a full patch than of someone who’s trying to earn their way in.”

Prez stills, at last removes his intense stare from me, thinks, then nods. “Noticed that myself. Dismissed him as an arrogant asshole who was going to have to do a whole lot of work to get his patch.” He pushes back his hair, sighs, then states, “Okay, so we’ve got to question him. Doc’s got the bullet out. It wasn’t life-threatening, and he can stand up to some questioning. Knight’s keeping him company in the medical room for now, but when we’ve brought everyone up to speed, we’ll get him out to the barn and start getting answers.” But he’s not finished. He looks at me menacingly. “I don’t like this, Saint. Woody brought him in and sponsored him. We judged him as a hangaround then brought him on board. Would leave a fuckin’ sour taste in the mouth if it turns out we were wrong.” He pauses, then adds, “If he’s innocent, it’s going to be that woman who’s next in our sights, and after this, it won’t be some mercy killing. Sorry, VP, but that’s how it is. Kings won’t put up withanyonefucking with us.”

Through gritted teeth, knowing I’d already thought that myself, I raise my chin to show I agree. There’s no coming back for Pippa if Gris convinces us there’s nothing to her story. The stakes are high. Brushing back my hair, I pull it together and wrap a tie around it, thinking how we’ve got to cover all bases.Trying to recall all the salient points of the conversation I’ve just had, I make a suggestion, “Someone needs to check Gris, see if he’s got a burner phone on him.”

Narrowing his eyes, Prez nods. “And check his fuckin’ room for anything incriminating.” After taking a moment, he calls out, “Tempest, get over here.” Approval goes through me. As sergeant-at-arms, Tempest takes the club’s security personally. He won’t miss anything if there’s something there to be found. Bullseye explains in a low voice what he wants, and after a flaring of his eyes as he realises we’re seriously considering there could be a traitor among us, Tempest determinedly walks out of the clubhouse and over to the bunkhouse to the rooms the prospects use.

“Church!” Bullseye yells, circling his finger over his head to get everyone moving.

There’s been a palatable undercurrent throughout the room. Most might be unaware of the details of what’s gone down, but they know Gris was shot, and as it happened upstairs, that Pippa was involved.

Bullseye takes his seat. I sit beside him, the sergeant-at-arms chair opposite remaining empty as the rest of the brothers pile in. Freak’s particularly silent as he sits next to me. Woody plonks his ass down next to him, then there’s Stalker, our treasurer, Paint, Rattler, Winchester, Short and Words. Finally, Genie saunters in.

As eyes fall on the empty chair, Prez bangs the gavel. “Tempest is checking something out.”

Leaning back and lighting a cigarette, Paint looks at me and smirks. “So did Gris step on your toes with the bitch upstairs, VP?”

Freak growls, “That fuckin’ woman disarmed the prospect and shot him with his own gun.”

“She’s dead,” Rattler pronounces, sitting back in satisfaction as if he’d been right all along.

“Not so fuckin’ fast,” Bullseye says, fixing him with a glare. “Just like you, Rat, to want to shoot first and ask questions after. But corpses tell no tales. While she might well deserve to be six feet underground, I think we all need to hear and digest her story before bullets start flying her way.”

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