Page 97 of Hostile Saint

In only boxer shorts, I stood behind the couch with the Prez and the VP. There were men at our backs, guns pointed to the dining room windows. To our front were more men, guns pointed to the backyard.

Into the phone, Lynx demanded, “Talk to me.”

Still in his firm grip, and right in front of him, I easily overheard Torque reply, “A Stallion in a coma. Possible poisoning.” His words were short and informative as if time was of the essence. “No club officers answering phones—or moving in beds. Justice is concerned about pizza delivery possibly being poisoned. Called in cavalry.”

Lynx replied, “Smart. Did she see any intruders in here?”

Those words had me suddenly connecting some dots. The men, whenever on the phone with Justice, would nod as if she could see them. With a firm grip still on the back of my neck, I peered up to finally notice little cameras in the ceiling corners.

My eyes raced to the wall my room was behind. Did they see my sheet ‘mishap’? Is that why those fuckers were laughing?

Torque answered Lynx, “Only saw a shadow outside. Could be a false alarm. Took no chances.”

Through the sliding glass doors, I could see dark moving bodies outside, but the way they maneuvered around each other, guns drawn, I knew they were either Stallions or Ryders.

Torque added, “Friendly entering kitchen,” but he hadn’t spoken in time.

Many guns pointed at the noise.

A biker stood with his hands in the air, eyes wide.

Guns came down with low sighs, knowing that could’ve ended badly.

The biker in the kitchen, who had possibly just pissed himself, shared, “Outside is clear.”

A bunch of shoulders eased, but Dagger eyed the surrounding bikers who had been sent to retrieve Lynx and me. His upper lip curled. “Why are you guys injured?”

One biker grumbled, “Ask the spoon bandit.”

I thought this a good time to look anywhere—and everywhere—other than at Dagger. But Lynx jostled me through his hold. “My boy here went rogue.”

Another biker, rubbing his now bruised knuckles, complained, “He’s a hostile little fucker.”

Another biker griped, “It would help if he knew the safe phrase.”

As Dagger glared at me, I shrugged. “Tequila?”

Laughter rumbled around me as Dagger said, “No, little bulldog, it’s ‘Stallions for life’.”

My mouth made an O shape as I recalled the poor biker who kept trying to tell me that.

Lynx’s hand finally loosened on my neck as he exhaled. “Okay, Torque, Justice did right. But why did she assume this had anything to do with us? What Stallion has possibly been poisoned?”

“Lynx,” Torque spoke as if shocked he didn’t know. “Brother, the Stallion is the one from the Kansas penitentiary. Ted and Ed are dead.”

His hand gripped my neck again, tightly. He must have known what was coming next.

I took a step toward the door, only remembering Lynx’s hold as I stumbled back toward him. “Please, Lynx. What if they know where she is?”

“Somebody fucking talk to me,” demanded the Steel Stallions leader.

“Three sets of eyes,” confirmed Vice as he lifted his phone to his ear. “They got three of ours on their way to her.”

Just then, Lynx said, “Torque, Eagle is callin’ through,” then I heard, “Brother… Yeah… Okay. Solid. Thank you.” He shook my neck. “Safe and sound in bed.”

My head fell forward. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Lynx released me while going on to speak into his phone, “That’s what I’m trying to decide now.” He asked Dagger, “Stay or go?”