Page 45 of Puma's Pride

“Puma.” He starts, holding out his hand as I reach him. I shake it, even though we just saw each other a couple of hours earlier.

“Sorry to crash the gates.” I tell him, making him smirk. “But we have a problem. Someone wearing a Shadow Born kutte just shot at me and my woman.”

“What the fuck!” Trouble shouts, getting up into my face. Or at least trying to. I’m a good five inches taller than him. “You come here, accusing me…”

I cut him off. “I’m not accusing you. Pretty certain he wasn’t one of yours. But he was wearing one of your kuttes. Missing anyone?”

Concern replaces anger as he swings around to re-enter the clubhouse. I follow him with Chill and Dice behind me, flanking Alisa. I probably should call a cage to pick her up and take her back to the clubhouse, but I need her close. Need to know that she’s safe.

“I need a roll call.” Trouble bellows. “I need a location on every member.”

I frown when I see Corinne enter the room as Trouble’s VP leaves it. She heads for Alisa. I see them talking, but I keep my focus on Trouble. Only a few minutes go by before his VP comes back and I can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t have good news.

“Everyone checked in but Toga. He went out on a run a week ago. I checked with our contact. He didn’t show.” He tells Trouble. “I’ve tried his phone, no answer. We pinged it, but there’s no signal. We got a ping on his bike, though. I have Monty and Plymouth checking it out. I’m also checking the databases between here and the meet.”

I know that means they're hacking into hospital and police servers to see if they can find their missing member.

“Do you have a picture of him?” I ask. I don’t think the guy who shot at us is their missing man, but an image might prove it.

Trouble walks over to a wall covered in framed photos of the members. Some are individual shots, almost like mug shots. Most of them are group shots. Pictures taken during a run or a party. Four or five guys standing with their bikes and holding a beer. Others with women and lots of food. Trouble points at one of the group shots, his finger on the large guy in the center. He has long grey hair that falls past his shoulders and a beard almost covering his beer belly. Not the guy who shot at us.

“Yeah, that’s not him.” I say, as Alisa comes to stand next to me.

“No, it isn’t. He had short black hair and no facial hair.” She confirms. “He was thinner, too. He had a hard time handling the bike.”

“I noticed that, too.” I agree with her. “Speaking of bikes, what does Toga ride?”

Trouble gives me the description of the same bike we saw. Alisa and I trade a look.

“Fuck, man. I think he stole Toga’s kutte and bike. If he killed him…” I start as Trouble turns and kicks a chair out of the way, roaring with anger.

“Son of a bitch. Fucking motherfucker, fuck.” He bellows. “Who the fuck would be stupid enough to kill one of my guys and then go after you?”

“He wanted me to see the kutte. Made sure I saw it. He didn’t kill me, didn’t even come close. I hit him, though. Pretty sure I got him in the leg. He was limping. I think he wanted me to believe one of your guys came at us.” I tell him.

“Why?” Trouble asks and I hear the other guys murmur the same question.

“I don’t know.” I tell him. “But I don’t think it was a biker. He could ride, but not well. It wasn’t his first time on a bike, but he could barely control it.”

“You said you shot him.”

“Yeah, I did. Maybe he was just in pain, but the bike wobbled when he looked back at us. Like he wasn’t used to the weight. He never tried to shoot at us. Hell, he barely glanced back at us. He didn’t speed. I could have caught up with him if I didn’t have Alisa with me. He swerved lanes, but he wasn’t smooth. He finally ditched us by crossing over traffic. I expected him to dump the bike, but he got lucky.”

Trouble nods, but seems lost in thought.

“Spark pulled the traffic cam footage.” Chill interrupts. “See if you either of you recognize him.”

We both watch the feed, but neither of us recognizes the asshole.

“What the fuck was he after?” Trouble demands.

“Enemy of my enemy.” Alisa muses and we all turn to look at her.

“What?” Trouble asks.

“Some say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. What do you do if your enemy doesn’t have an enemy nearby, but has a friend?”

“Turn the friend into an enemy.” Corinne finishes.

---