Page 66 of Flint

“Where the hell you going?”

“Left Kitten at work. I should have been there an hour ago. She might not remember shit, but I ain’t trusting that someone doesn’t know something. If Duke is using them, then someone in that place ain’t on the up-and-up. And I’m not about to lose the old lady I just got.”

“Yo, where’s the fire?” Law yells as I dash through the clubhouse.

I hear Casper explain it for me. “The Devils Damned VP is using Flint’s old lady’s job to launder money.”

“Fucking hell.”

I have no idea what else is said ’cause I’m already out the door and turning on my baby. An echo has me looking left, and I raise an eyebrow.

Our soon-to-be newest member just raises his shoulder in surrender. “She’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, and the fact that you want to fuck her friend has nothing to do with it either.”

If he answered, I don’t catch it, too busy backing up and turning my bike to the gate. I now see other brothers mounting up. This might be nothing, or it might be something. I appreciate that they want to help, but I ain’t waiting on them. And since no one calls out to me to hold up, I gun it.

I’m not thinking the worst when I leave the club, though I probably should be. Thinking bad thoughts gets you prepared. You bring comms with you so you can radio in and have others tell you what they see before you pull up. You have a man calling your woman and have her wait her ass outside for you, or at least wait till she sees you and then run out. Ain’t picky, just as long as she’s there watching for me to ride up.

But none of that is happening.

I arrive twenty seconds before Gator, which is God only knows how long after four other motorcycles got here. They don’t belong to anyone in my club, and I know they weren’t there when I dropped Kitten off. I ain’t stupid enough to think they’re anyone’s but the Devils’. Just hope one ain’t Duke’s. He’s got a rep for being cruel. And cruel isn’t a term we use on a whim around here. It’s got weight to it. Last thing I want is someone like that too close to my property. Cruel people tend to break shit on purpose and laugh after.

I pull behind a service van that’s been parked in the same spot since this morning. Doubt the guy who drives it will be leaving anytime soon, or at least I hope not. Those in the building probably didn’t hear us pull in, but I don’t want anything announcing us till we’re ready. A quick look out any of the windows and we could be seen. I’m taking a chance on the limited cover the trees give, planted every ten spaces for curb appeal. Doubt it’ll buy us what time we need.

A whistle has Gator and me looking left and then running to the side of the building the prospect I left on duty is standing by. The same guy who had eyes on her the night she danced. Don’t know the kid yet—okay, he’s my age, I think—but so far, he’s proven himself able to keep his eyes open, at least.

“Report,” I demand.

“Been watching the building all morning. Place cleared out about thirty minutes ago for lunch. Four Devils arrived five minutes ago. I sent a text to Law but figured he didn’t respond because you were still in Church.”

“He’s on the road, probably. We got intel that says Devils are in bed with someone on the third floor,” I say with a nod at his info.

“Know who?”

“Just know Duke, the VP of the Devils, is involved. Doubt he would deal with a lackey, so it’s got to be someone near the top.”

The new guy nods to the doors, and we watch them for signs of activity as he fills us in on what he knows. “I clocked a guy in a suit walking in about two hours ago. Not sure if he was going to the third floor or not, but he’s the only one in a three-piece suit going in or out, and he hasn’t left yet.”

“Kitten?” No use denying that’s my old lady’s name. Each girl gets one, unique for who they are. The boys know who Kitten is, and who she belongs to. Just like they know Lady is Bulldog’s and Mama Bear is Chains’. Special K was Law’s before cancer took her away.

He just shakes his head.

Shit. She’s still in there.

“Call Casper, give him the full report, and let him know to alert the boys. If the Devils are here, you bet your ass someone is going to die today. Watch your six that it ain’t you.”

He nods and starts dialing.

“You carrying?” I glance at Gator.

“Dumb question,” he grunts in response.

Yeah, probably is. Ever since the kid got shot last year, a gun—or three—hasn’t been out of his possession or at least within reach since. Swear to God I think he showers with them. He had a gun then, too, but only one. Now he carries backups. Even backups for his backups.

“Stay close. I ain’t waiting another second to see her with my own eyes,” I mutter as I turn and walk toward the building. My training kicks in, but unlike the last time I entered a place with unknown assailants to rescue someone, none of the bad guys had anything I needed. This time it matters more, which is probably shitty of me to say, but it’s the truth. When it’s your life on the line, it matters. And Julianne is my life.

We secure the lobby, only one set of stairs and three elevators leading up. Would have loved a second set of stairs—better to take those over the main ones—but anything is better than a dinging elevator alerting everyone you’re coming.

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