Page 115 of The Trust We Broke
Plus, the combination of black and green is striking.
Grudge fills us in on their conversation so far, so everyone is up to speed, including how money has been stolen from the club. There’s understandable anger and confusion, but an overwhelming sense of gratitude that the New Jersey Outlaws want to help.
Grudge turns to me. “I want you to work with Wren. Give them the phone you can’t unlock. Your father’s laptop, if you can get it. Whatever you can find from the law firm.”
I don’t know what I thought would happen when I was nineteen and idealistic. Me, pursuing a career in law. Grudge, pursuing a career in…this. But I never imagined him trusting me with club business or our worlds overlapping like this.
“Of course. My father’s laptop is with him at the hospital, so I’ll have to think about how to do that. Where can we set up?” I ask.
“Not here at the clubhouse,” King says. “It’s too obvious. We used Calista’s jet to get here. No one knows who was on it beyond the pilot. But it’s a trail because the flight is on record.”
“I have an idea,” Grudge says. “In return for Wren’s help, we need to help keep them secure.”
“Who from?” Wraith asks, immediately turning to Wren.
“Yeah,” Atom says. “Would be good to know who we’re looking out for.”
Their cheeks turn pink, and they look to King.
“Everyone,” King answers on their behalf. And the tone of his voice gives no room for questions or misunderstandings. “And I’m thinking it shouldn’t be remote. Makes a large assault too easy.”
“Understood,” Wraith says.
“What about the apartment above the bakery with you?” Grudge asks me. I barely have time to process the request before Smoke replies.
“Prez,” Smoke says. “Given we don’t know what we’re dealing with, and how Lucy might already be in trouble with the Rebels, I don’t like this all happening above my old lady’s bakery. Her place has already been set on fire.”
“Here’s my thinking,” Grudge says. “Atom, you and Em could move in above the bar for a little while, putting you within thirty seconds of the bakery. Lucy and I could move into the bakery with Wren. Smoke, we could set up a rotation, keeping an eye on the cameras you installed around the bakery.”
King shakes his head. “I want someone on Wren all the time. If there’s a problem, your first thought will be Lucy.” The president looks straight at me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I say.
“I’m moving into one of those three bedrooms,” Catfish says. “Because I want to be a part of figuring this out. They stole that money on my watch as treasurer.”
“Won’t it be obvious, though?” Jackal asks. “Suddenly having a bunch of bikers living on Main Street.”
“It’s not like we’ll be coming and going that much, though,” Catfish says. “If Wren is as good as they say they are, it’ll be about getting digital intelligence.”
“You can feed that back to the rest of us, through Grudge, for anything that needs actioning,” Atom says.
“Are we really sure this is a better plan than Wren being out in one of the ranch buildings?” Smoke says.
Saint shakes his head. “Hidden in plain sight is best. We believe Wren is geographically far away from trouble. But it’s harder for anyone to try anything in public. Too remote gives people time and unwitnessed access.”
“I’d be happier above the bakery,” Wren says quietly.
King looks over to them. Then, back to Grudge. “The bakery it is. And we should get Wren out of here as quickly as possible while we take care of other business.”
“I can take them,” I say. “We can get Wren settled, then dig in.”
Grudge shakes his head. “The two of you going off alone is the anthesis of what we’re talking about.”
“I’ll take them both,” Catfish says. “We can get started. Smoke, can you let Quinn know we’ll be coming in through the back of the bakery rather than the street entrance?”
“Will do.” I can hear Smoke’s nervousness about the whole plan in those two words.
Wren looks a little uncertain. I can’t imagine how they must feel. Spark reaches for them and squeezes their hand, and while I don’t know their exact ages, Spark is likely mid-thirties, while I’d put Wren in their mid-twenties. The move feels strangely familial.
