There are two more men outside the door when I step off it.
Jesse is a self-made millionaire, paying out for private security would be nothing to him. Neither man gives a shit that I’m staring them down, one of them turning to open the door for me.
A ball of brown and white fur comes barreling towards me, yapping and jumping. I halt my steps and stare down at the puppy.
“What the fuck is this?” I look up at Taylor.
“Language.”
Oscar’s heard enough bad words that he’s been repeating them.
The thing is biting my shoelaces. I mean, dogs do that shit, but when the shoes are on someone’s feet?
“He got a fucking puppy,” I laugh until Taylor puts a hand over her mouth. The little shit is pissing on my fucking boot. I almost kick it trying to get out of the way.
“Ollie, bad puppy,” Taylor hurries over and picks it up, but the thing is still pissing and it sprays along the hall. “Oh, shit,” she cries, setting it down again.
Jesse comes around the corner, looks at the scene, and rubs his forehead. “That is it, I’m kicking you all out,” he says to Taylor. “That dog is a menace.”
“He’s a baby. He got excited meeting Rebel,” Taylor looks at me with a pleading look.
“There is dog piss on my boot,” I deadpan. “I’m not helping you.”
The mutt has stopped peeing.
“I’ll clean it up,” Taylor says. “Just let me put him back in his playpen. Is Noah okay?” she asks me.
Playpen? For a fucking dog. When did this become Nero’s life? “He’s fine,” I say, although I haven’t spoken to him for a few hours.
Taylor is one of the very few people who gets to call Nero by his real name. From what I know of her, she’s a good person.
She stepped up and protected Oscar and Jesse when shit went down. She’s a nurse and has fit into Nero’s life well. Oscar loves her too.
Only a handful of people knew of Oscar’s existence for the first two years of his life. Now that everyone is aware, Nero has mellowed out but still keeps him protected from the dangers that come with the club. Which is why he is here with Taylor and not at Nero’s, where they would be alone.
Jesse watches her walk past, then turns to me.
“Didn’t he want to call his dog Oscar Two?” I say, shocked at myself for remembering that fact.
“The stuffed animal is Oscar Two, Ollie is the closest thing to it,” he says. Despite his exasperation, it’s clear he loves the kid. “You mind taking off your shoes?”
Not in the least. This is not how I planned on meeting a ranked member to discuss a man who tried to murder one of our dancers. I toe the wet one off with the other, so I don’t have to touch it, then pull off the other one, avoiding the puddle.
“We’ll get them cleaned up,” he says with a sigh. “Blaze is in the office, third door along the hall.”
He goes back around the corner where I can now hear happy squeals from Oscar and yappy barks from Ollie. I can think of nothing worse than going in there, so follow Jesse’s directions to the office.
It’s as big as the room where we hold church and has everything you would expect in an office, Blaze lifts his gaze to me, then at my feet, his lip twitching. I’m not even a little surprised to see he is in his socks too. Jesus Christ.
“What have you found out?”
Through the massive windows, the lights of the surrounding buildings are coming on as dusk draws in. Where the hell has this day gone?
“It’s him. Facial recognition from hotel security matches up. I’ve told Nero, he’s getting people in place.”
Resting my ass on the desk, I stare through the window. “Do we have anything more on him, did his family sanction this?”
“I don’t think so.” He leans back in the chair and stretches.
