Page 5 of Flint

“Ahh, I think you were next.” I motion for the Bass guy to go ahead.

He just grins and shakes his head as he gets comfy, stretching his feet out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.

“Flint, get your ass in here,” the voice growls.

A warm hand wraps around my forearm, and I’m moving before I know it. It’s not as rough as it could be, and I’m surprised enough that I’m staring at the sexy biker before I even gather that I’m in the room with the yelling beast.

“What the fuck we got here?” he demands.

I quickly scan him and the office. “President” is clear on his cut, along with the name “Law” under it. The office is typical, with filing cabinets, a couch, and a few chairs. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the scary biker sitting in a huge-ass chair. His hair and beard are completely white, but he pulls it off in a very sexy, scary way. If I wasn’t terrified he would use the gun, which is very much on the table and pointed at me, I would totally be creaming my panties. As it is, I’m just trying not to pee myself.

“Don’t know,” Flint tells him. “She claims she doesn’t know. Casper confirmed no one else is on the property through scans. Got the prospects doing a search anyway to confirm.”

He nods, and I just stand there like an idiot. “Who are you?” he asks me.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Who do you work for?”

I shrug again.

“Why are you here? Who you trying to see?”

I look around and notice Bass and the Jumper guy are also in the room. No one is smiling or thinking this a joke, but I have to know.

“Can he not hear me?” I lean over and sort of whisper to Flint, and I’m drawn to the way his lips twitch a bit.

“Ain’t deaf, girl,” Law barks.

“Wasn’t sure, since you keep asking the same question.” I look back at the biker behind the desk and shrug one shoulder, the one that isn’t in pain.

“Ain’t the same,” he growls as his eyes narrow.

“From where I’m standing they are. I have no idea about anything other than I woke up a little while ago in the middle of a place I don’t think I need to be, and I’m not a ninja.”

“Huh?”

I turn toward Jumper, answering his question. “I trip too much.”

He gives me a weird look, but hey, it makes sense to me.

I’m saved from any more questions when another guy walks in. He wasn’t called to come in, and I have half a mind to tell him to wait his turn, but then a thought pops in my head, and I can’t even stop myself.

“Gator.”

If they weren’t looking at me funny before, they’re staring at me like I’m crazy now, especially this Gator guy. But I swear on my life, no matter how much time I have left with it, that I know this guy. His cut seems newer than the rest, not even half the stuff on it like the rest of these guys, and he looks younger. Probably not by much, but definitely younger in age, though maybe not in experience. His cold eyes assess me, and I can see the pain behind them. Don’t ask how I know, but I can tell this one has seen some shit.

“Him.” I point, just in case they don’t know who I’m talking about even though it’s completely obvious. “I know him. Gator.”

The guy looks at me, then his president, then back at me. “Who the fuck is Gator?”

Chapter 3 – Flint

P

rospect looks at me, and I just look back. Kid’s been on the up-and-up since he got here, but he’s still on probation for another few months. I’ve seen crazy shit out of prospects, usually in the first six months, but there’s a reason it’s a year of shit duty. Not everything comes out right away. Some things take time. Like this Gator shit.

“Got something to say, Prospect?” I draw out with a hard edge in my tone.

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