Page 6 of Flint

“Other than I don’t know what the fuck this woman is talking about? No. I can confirm that no other breaches were made. Boys and I combed the area. This was the only disturbance.”

“You know her?” Prez asks.

I look at my prez. He’s a bit more laid-back about all this than I thought he would be after getting off the phone with his kid. Ruby’s the only family he has left outside the club, and I know having her away at college is killing him. Even if she went to college only a few towns away and is basically home every weekend, man’s still having problems with letting go and not being involved in every aspect of her life. And the club already felt his anger about her telling him to suck it, in a very respectful way that said “my dad runs one of the biggest motorcycle chapters of the Hounds of the Reaper and can kill and get away with it.”

I’m guessing here. I wasn’t there, but Ruby ain’t dumb. She knows how to get away with shit and knows when to put up with it for her own good.

“Not in the biblical sense.”

Why does that have my hackles rising? This is no one. A far too skinny kind of girl who probably likes kale over anything. She doesn’t have enough meat on her to fuck, yet I’m getting pissed that the prospect put the thought of him and her together in my head.

“In what way, then?” the prez asks him, and we both watch as the prospect eyes me. What the fuck does that look mean? “I asked you a question, Prospect. Answer it.”

His sigh has me sharing a glance with Bass, who keeps the jokes to himself, for once, as he takes a step closer. We ain’t a bunch of “shoot and ask questions later” types, but we don’t do well when threats are possible. And with our prez in the room, the potential for a threat has us itching to take action.

“Girl’s name is Julianne Michaels. She’s thirty-two, accountant for Fisher and Mitchells for the last six years. She lives off Sampson and Seventh in a two-bedroom. Single, no pets. Credit score 720,” Prospect rattles off.

She narrows her eyes. “Are you my stalker?”

I wanted to ask the same thing but find myself glaring at the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Fuck no.”

“What else?”

There’s a reason why Law is the president. He knows when more is there.

“She’s training for a marathon. Runs past the gate four times a week. Usually takes Friday off, as her runs go long on Saturday. Not sure why she was running tonight, but I saw her cross our area before my shift ended around six tonight.”

“And you just happen to know this how?” Bass can’t keep the wiggle out of his brows nor tone that hints at the kid crushing on our little runner.

The prospect only glares but doesn’t take the bait to get riled up like Bass is known for. “Ain’t like that, man. I saw her running by here a few times a week, thought she needed to be checked out.”

“Just like that?” I question as I look him over. I know he did intel in the corps, but he hasn’t shared much on his service life with us. That’s fine; we all got shit pasts. We got a guy who clears former military members for the club, and this prospect got the all clear and then some. I never doubt our guy who gets us the deets we need. I pull the records and shit, but our inside guy talks to the people they work with, really gets the scoop.

“She started up right when Mama Bear came along. Didn’t know if this chick was just doing surveillance or what. Was on the gate, had the time, did some checking.”

“Simple as that?”

“As that,” he confirms, and I hate to admit that my respect has gone up for the kid.

Law scoffs. “Like I said before, Flint, you ain’t the only one able to check shit out.”

I squint at my prez, recognizing the threat. He’s still pissed about the Bulldog issue, which I get. Threatened my patch even then, but I didn’t know till now just who he was talking about who would take my job.

Well, it looks like I don’t like the kid anymore after all.

“So we’ve never actually met?” the woman, Julianne, asks.

“No.” The prospect quips at her.

“Then why do I want to call you Gator?”

“He does gate duty,” Jumper volunteers.

“No, that’s not it.” She quirks her head in a way that shows a bit of clean skin on her neck, and I have a strong urge to rub the dirt around the spot into her skin. Make her all dirty. “Something with a drink or something?”

His pinched face has me smirking again. Oh, this is going to be good.

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