Page 7 of Property of Tacoma
As we walk through the main floor, I notice Cyber, our tech guy, sweeping the room with one of his doohickey devices. Journey is on the other side doing the same.
The fuck? I raise a brow at Bash.
He shakes his head and raises a finger to his lips.
Why the fuck are they looking for bugs?
“Fuck.” I run a hand over my face. Now I know this shit is gonna be bad.
Bash doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns and leads me down the hallway toward the private lap dance rooms. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I follow behind him. The air starts to feel heavy, and I get the impression this is just the calm before the storm.
Growing up in this small beach town just outside Mexico Beach, lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of them.
Bash pulls up short outside the last door. With his hand on the handle, he glances over his shoulder at me. “Found it like this about an hour ago when I came to do inventory.”
He shoves the door open and steps back, allowing me to go in first.
“The suspense is killin’ me, bro—” The words die on my lips when I cross the threshold. I freeze on the spot, eyes shooting open wide as I take in the scene.
What. The. Absolute. Fuck. Is. This shit?
I lace my fingers together on top of my head and puff out my cheeks as my eyes dart around the room.
No fucking way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. I look back at Bash and see his expression that I’m pretty sure matches the one on my own face.
Bash’s eyes meet mine, and he nods.
Fuck me, this is real.
I turn back to the nightmare in front of me. Our greedy Mayor, Tom Camden, is slumped over on the crushed black velvet sofa. Mayor Camden’s been a regular at The Pretty Kitties since he started taking our fucking money to look the other way with some of our less-than-legal business ventures. Good ol’ Tom reaped all the rewards that came with doing business with my club. That included VIP treatment from his favorite Kitties.
Looks like those days are over, seeing as most of his head is now missing, blown clear off by what must have been a high-caliber weapon. Blood and brain matter are splattered across the wall behind him. I drop my arms and cover my nose when the smell of blood mixed with the unmistakable stench of death and emptied bowels hits me. Fat fucker’s been here a while.
Trailing my eyes over the rest of the room, I don’t miss the mirror on the side table with bumps of coke already lined out for the taking. An expensive bottle of champagne is beside it. The blood in my veins turns to ice when I see the spray-painted message on the wall.
THERE’S A NEW KING IN TOWN.
I turn to look at Bash, silently asking with a raised eyebrow: What the fuck happened?
He shrugs, palms up. He doesn’t know either. “Found him just like this. Someone must have broken in yesterday when we were closed.”
Sunday. The only day of the week Pretty Kitties doesn’t open its doors.
I step back into the hallway, processing what I’ve just seen. Someone killed the mayor of Odin in our club. Someone who wanted to send a message directly to the Kings of Anarchy MC. Someone who’s trying to set us up for a murder we didn’t commit.
But why? And more importantly, who?
“Cyber find any camera feeds?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Wiped clean,” Bash confirms. “Professional job.”
Of course it was. This isn’t some junkie breaking in for cash. This is a calculated hit meant to bring heat on us.
“This isn’t something we can handle,” I say finally. The mayor may have been a corrupt piece of shit, but he was still the goddamn mayor. His death is going to bring attention we don’t need. “I’ll make a call and get a clean-up crew.”
We need a cleaner, and we need one fucking fast.
Bash follows me down the hall to the office and closes the door behind him. Inside, I pull open the bottom desk drawer and retrieve one of the burner phones we keep for emergencies. This definitely fucking qualifies. I rip open the packaging and insert one of the SIM cards Cyber’s encrypted for instances like this.
