Page 29 of Property of Zombie

His brows wrinkle. “The factory? That’s what this is about?”

“Of course,” Whiz says as if the idea that he wouldn’t already know that is insane.

Baker’s eyes shift from me to my brothers and back again. “Do you own it or something?”

“Or something.” I lean forward and brace myself on the arms of the chair, effectively caging him in. “What is your interest in the property?”

He hesitates for a few seconds. Then he takes a deep breath, drops his gaze to the patches on my cut, and replies. “Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement, make our interests align.”

Gone is the scared asshat, and in his place is a man who knows how to conduct business within the underbelly of society. As I stare at Baker now, it’s easy to imagine a ruthless bastard who will do whatever it takes to remain at the top of his shady game.

I make a show of throwing my head back and laughing. “Hear that, brothers? He thinks we’d be willing to work with him.”

Quake, Trick, and Whiz laugh as well, but Baker sits ramrod straight, his expression giving nothing away.

Man’s gotta set on him, it seems.

“Do tell,” Trick finally says. “What could you possibly have to offer the Kings of Anarchy MC that we don’t already have?”

“Space,” Baker states matter-of-factly. “More specifically, a large space that can’t be linked back to you.” He grins, but there’s an evilness in it that I make a mental note to remember. “I’ve done my research. I know that your chapter of Kings of Anarchy rules Tacoma. I know that you deal in drugs, guns, and death. And I also know that everyone has a price. I just need to figure out what yours is.”

Before I can answer, a rattle fills the room, causing me to look over my shoulder at Martha. I heave a sigh when I see her straining against the chains restraining her to the chair. Her eyes are wide with terror, and her mouth opens as she screams loud enough to make a person’s ear drums bleed.

“Jesus, woman,” Trick snaps, covering her mouth with his hand. “Shut the fuck up.”

Tears spill down her cheeks, and if it weren’t for the chains, she’d be kicking the shit out of my brother.

“Martha!” Baker shouts, and she stills. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”

What gives him that impression, I don’t know, but it seems to calm her slightly, and for that, I’m grateful. I nod at Trick, silently giving him the okay to release her. He does, and she opens her mouth.

“I wouldn’t,” I snarl before she can scream again. “Not if you want to walk out of here.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Quake adds with a shrug. “But sometimes there’s collateral damage.”

“I-I-I…” She swallows, and I swear I hear the thunk of her throat working. “I-I’ll be quiet.”

“Good,” I say. “You can thank your boss for getting you into this predicament.”

Martha’s eyes dart to Baker. “Is that true?”

“Martha, just sit there, and be quiet,” he replies, a bite to his tone. “You’ll be compensated for your trouble.”

With that, she sags against the chair, a look of defeat crossing her face.

“Dose her again,” I instruct Trick. “Just to be sure.”

He pulls an already loaded syringe of etorphine out of his cut and jabs the needle into her neck. Surprisingly, she doesn’t say a word or resist. Baker must pay very well for her to willingly be injected with a drug.

Once the sedative starts to take effect, I return my attention to our male captive.

“You were saying?”

“You have a price,” he says. “Your club has a price. What is it?”

“A fuck load more than space,” I bark.

“Fine. Name it,” he counters. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. As long as I’m able to conduct business in Tacoma, I don’t care.”