Page 9 of Only The Strong

Ronan shifts his heavy gaze to my best friend, setting the gavel back down on the table in front of him. “Is it about the mole from last night?”

Finn nods. “He wouldn’t give anything up for a long fucking time, but he finally said he doesn’t know who hired him, but he worked for The Brothers Coalition.” The room goes silent, and that's probably the most telling and terrifying thing yet.

Ronan stares down at the table in front of him, nodding his head slowly. “So this was professional,” Ronan surmises. He looks at Finn again. “Did he have any ink?”

Finn shakes his head, keeping eye contact with Ronan. “None.” Everyone exchanges confused looks around the table. Tattoos are like organization name tags; if the spy was a part of anything then he should have had a tattoo linking him to someone.

“What the fuck is The Brothers Coalition?” Nate barks from between Saint and Tobi.

Ronan shakes his head. “No fucking clue. Have Mason look into it.”

“What about who hired him in the first place?” Tobi asks.

“The Kings of Mayhem?” Finn suggests.

Ro shakes his head, dismissing Finn’s idea. “We’ve had the peace pact going with them for over a decade.”

“But they were forced into that, and they have that new president.” Finn continues, but Ronan shakes his head again, not convinced.

Tobi leans his elbows onto the table. “What about Los Lobos?”

Nate scoffs. “In the words of our young prospect, ‘they’re more useless than stoplights inGrand Theft Auto.’”

Ronan chuckles. “He’s right, their numbers are too low to be of any concern to us. One on one maybe, but they know a war would bring in our other charters and they don't have enough bodies to try to compete with that.”

“You get a name at all?” Saint changes the subject, slipping his phone into his jeans pocket.

All of our eyes bounce between Ronan, Saint, and Finn. “He didn’t have any I.D. on him.”

Ronan rubs his bottom lip with his finger. “Call the prospects and tell them to get his prints before dropping him off at Doc’s.” He looks at Saint. “Get Richards to run his prints through the police database and see if he pops anything.” Saint nods, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket again. “Anything else?” Ronan looks around the table. With no one saying anything more, he slams the gavel down on the table and we all start to rise from our seats, checking our phones and casting concerned glances at one another. Ever since leaving the cabin, I've had a bad feeling about the rat. We still have more questions than answers, and all signs are pointing to a major shit storm in our future.

8

CALLUM

Leavingone giant clusterfuck to attend to another, I turn the corner from the chapel and see the prospects sitting at the bar; they're not allowed into church since they’re not patched members yet. I walk straight toward them, not wasting any time, and fill them in on Reese’s story and what we're gonna be doing. We have four prospects, so I figure shifts with me checking in is the best way to handle this, according to Saint, we’re not worried about safety, mostly just want to catch the sick fuck. We’re not concerned about the beating that Lance took, fights are always happening between drunk students in The District, and the chances of Reese’s stalker actually doing anything are slim; he probably just read the news and is taking credit to spook Red. I pull my phone out while walking to my bike, clicking on the follower notification from Instagram earlier. Sure enough, it was my newest little responsibility. Ignoring the followers because I don't care, I scroll through her pictures quickly. Taking a seat on my bike and pulling my helmet on. They’re all of her and a group of girls, lots of pictures of desserts, and a few pictures of the mountains with hashtags like #hiking, #nature, and #washington. I follow her back before sliding my phone into my pocket and starting my bike.

Wyatt, the oldest prospect, follows me to Reese’s apartment, and when we enter the parking lot it sounds like an entire charter is coming with the echoes bouncing back and forth between the buildings. Reese and a short blonde are leaning against a car, the woman’s arm draped over Reese, so she must be Saint’s friend Allie. Wyatt and I park our bikes a space away from them and when Reese sees me she says something to Allie and then walks toward us. She looks so sexy in her black dress pants with a bow in the front, a tan tank top, and tan heels. Her heels click against the pavement as she moves toward me and I can't help but stare at her legs. Not the time to be remembering how they felt wrapped around you just a few days ago, dickhead. My thoughts sober when I see her grimace and can see just how freaked out she is, shit I kind of feel bad now.

“You're a prospect?” Reese crosses her arms and rubs at the backs of her arms like it's freezing outside, despite the warm weather.

“What? No. What?” I scratch my head, looking over her shoulder to see Allie opening her car door.

“Saint said prospects would be coming to help.” She looks at my cut and then her eyes shift back to Wyatt behind me.

“No, I’m the Sergeant at Arms.” I crook my thumb behind me to Wyatt. “Wyatt is one of our prospects, I'm going to be monitoring them and helping out. I wanted to check in and make sure you're okay.” I place my hands over hers to stop her frantic rubbing.

She looks into my eyes. “Did you assault that guy after dropping me off on Saturday?”

I should have expected that, but I answer anyway. “No, Red. I didn’t spare that dick a second thought after you got on the back of my bike.” She searches my eyes, I hope she sees the truth. “I went home and went to bed.”

She lets out a breath, eyes still holding mine. “Okay, I believe you.”

Allie clears her throat while taking a few steps over to meet us. “So how's this going to work?” Damn this one is all business, but I guess I can't blame her; Saint sent me pictures of the notes Reese had been sent and they did look a little creepy.

“I have four prospects who are going to take shifts watching Reese, and I'll check in when I can and whenever I'm needed. I run a roofing business so I can leave when needed, but I can't abandon it completely. I’ve also got a tech buddy that's going to come out in the morning and wire the whole place with cameras and a security alarm.” I cross my arms, I feel like Allie is sizing me up, wondering if I'm fit for the job, or maybe for her friend. I’m sure as fuck qualified to watch after someone and scare off creeps, not so much for relationships. Those are a waste of my damn time, energy, and money. Reese was a great lay and her safety will be a top priority, but it ends there.

“You're going to be following me everywhere and putting cameras in my apartment?” Reese’s eyes are huge and she rubs between her eyebrows with one delicate finger.

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