Moss taps his phone before putting it on his desk and spinning it toward me. My sharp intake of breath draws Fox who takes one look at it.
“What the fuck? That’s the locker room?Ourlocker room?”
“Yeah. Found it today when I was poking around. I think we can safely say that they definitely think you have something to do with the FBI swooping in on their shipment. They know enough to know the PD isn’t going to be stopping anything. Not with some of my men on their payroll. Leads me to believe they want to find out what you two know,” Moss says, leaning back in his chair.
“And they think they’ll find that out in the locker room?”
Moss shrugs, “Don’t know and don’t care. I want to know who else in my PD is poison and who the fuck is behind it all.”
My brows pull low. So far Fox and I have pegged Hitchens, Norton and Ryan. Fox is still working on Sammy and Wire is delving deeper into whether the Matthew Thompson Sammy is seeing is the CO we know of, or some generic old guy wanting to fuck a young blonde.
“You think there’s more involved?” I ask, mirroring his position while Fox lounges in the chair beside me.
“I don’t think Hitchens, Norton or Ryan can get their hands on this type of shit. Someone else did. Could be cartel, could be someone else. All I know is that none of those three would risk meeting shady fuckers for a bug.”
I crick my neck, ignoring Fox’s glare. He hates when I do that, but it helps me think. Moss is right. From what we know of those three they’re all born and bred Rose Grove boys. None of them enlisted and Fox and I would know if they had family members in the military. If you’re from Rose Grove and were enlisted, we’d know.
“I’m planning on removing it during shift change. I don’t want that shit in my station.” Moss growls, jaw tight.
It’s an interesting look on him. Every dealing DRMC has had with him he’s been congenial, likeable. But the look on his face is hard. Something I’m familiar with.
“Or, hear me out, wedon’tget rid of it,” Fox offers, hands open as if throwing an idea out there.
“What, and let these fuckers continue to spy on us?”
“No, we somehow use it to find out who these guys are. I mean, we have a literal genius in our clubhouse. Chewy must know a way to track the tracker or something.” Fox shrugs, looking between me and Moss.
Moss frowns, then leans back in his chair. It’s not a bad idea. In fact, is a pretty fucking good idea if we can pull this shit off.
Moss stays silent for a moment, staring at the desk, as if running the odds in his head. He nods slowly, eyes meeting mine. “It’s not a bad idea. OK, from now on if you’re in the locker rooms just talk shit. Maybe even engage in dialogue that will mislead them. Get them looking in one direction while we work in another. If the cartel or whoever the fuck these guys are working with think you’re a threat, then they’ll be wanting to monitor all your conversations to get the drop on you.”
I dip my chin, because he’s right. The station was in a fucking state when we turned up, and I know for a fact that the business Hitchens and his goons have been turning over has slowed the fuck down since Fox and I came on the scene.
Moss’s screen lights up from where it’s still lying face up on his desk with a message from Jazz. I avert my eyes and don’t even try to read it. She’s not our woman. And if I’m honest she may never be. Well, not mine anyway. She deserves more. Better. Someone like Fox.
“Ah shit, sorry, guys, Jazz ain’t feeling well, I gotta go,” Moss mutters, flingers flying over the screen, probably replying to Jazz.
“Is there anything we can do?” Fox asks, trying to play it cool but I can see by the look on his face, he’s invested in Jasmine.
“Ah, yeah,” Moss’s gaze fixes on us, “find out what you can about the bug. Hopefully that genius bunch you have at the compound can help.”
“If Chewy can’t I’m sure Elio can,” Fox snorts.
“He’s a cute kid. Even if that book he was carrying around on the community outreach day was creepy as fuck.” Moss snorts.
“How do you expect the boy to grow up and torture if he hasn’t learned the techniques?” Fox says in an innocent voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my station so I can check on my little sister.”
Fox looks reluctant, but shit, it’s not like we can tell Moss we’ll take care of it, go around to Jazz’s house and force our way inside. I give Moss a chin lift and head out, stalking toward the locker room to grab my cut. Not even bothering with changing out of this shitty department issued uniform.
Fox raises a brow and I shake my head. I ain’t going over my reasons while some fucker is out there listening to us. All I want is to be on my sled with the road beneath me.
Fox rolls his eyes, “Come on then, babe. Let’s get some wind therapy and then I’ll let you ride my cock,” he practically shouts the last part, and I snort at his silly antics. He grins at me before slapping my ass. “Let’s ride.”
Chapter 7
Fox
