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Before he could reply, Monroe jumped in. “This is what that asshole did. Fox drove me home from work and stayed for dinner. The asshole must have followed us from work. We’d just finished when the guy knocks on the front door and barges his way in when I open it. He looked so damn friendly when I checked who it was in the window. And he held up one of those—” She snapped her fingers as she searched for the word.
Fox volunteered the information when she couldn’t. “He had religious shit with him.”
“Yes!” Monroe explained. “That’s the only reason I opened the door at this time of night. I wanted to say thanks but fuck off. In a nice way, of course. I mean, those guys are only trying to help the world, right? But I’ve got no need for religion in my life.”
Hyde stood staring at Monroe in silence. I could never get a good read on him, but he appeared a little bewildered by her. Understandable, though, because she was always like a wild rush of energy every time I saw her. He’d never met her. Not that I knew of, so I guessed he was still getting his bearings with her.
Turning back to Fox, I said, “Okay, so why the fuck did he cut your face up like that?” Fox’s face was a nasty mess of cuts and blood. By the looks of the first aid box on the table, Monroe had been attempting to clean him up, but he was still a mess.
“I owe a guy for some coke.”
“And?” I said.
“And he sent the motherfucker around to collect.”
I frowned. “Monroe, I’m not sure how this is of interest to us.”
“Well,” she started, “the guy said that we should remember his boss’s name—Wesley Marx—because he was about to become the main supplier in Sydney. And that Storm didn’t know what was about to hit them.”
Wesley fucking Marx. The asshole who was using our supplier.
“Why would he mention us?” Hyde finally joined the conversation.
Monroe glanced at him. “I told him he should be more careful about who he threatens, because I have Storm on speed dial. That’s when he mentioned your club. He seemed pissed off that I even mentioned you.”
“Really?” I said. “Storm on speed dial?” I tried not to laugh. I had no idea where women came up with some shit.
She waved her hands in the air dismissively. “Well, I’ve got Nitro. By default. That counts, right?”
Hyde’s lips twitched in amusement. Fuck, I’d never seen that in my life. The only emotions I knew from him were anger or begrudging acceptance. “Yeah, sugar, that counts.”
Sugar?
Jesus.
Monroe hit him with a smile that could have blasted light to Antarctica. I watched in fascination as her entire body language switched from alert to soft. She’d come a long way since I’d met her when Nitro first took up with Tatum. Monroe had been wary with me at first. Trusting a biker, she told me, was like trusting a teenage boy with your virginity—you hoped for the best, but would most likely end up fucked over and wishing you’d not put your faith in them. And after all that, there she was looking at Hyde like he was the only other person in this room.
I took charge. “Okay, so if you’re okay and don’t need us, I’m gonna report this back to Nitro and then go finish what I was doing before he called.”
Monroe nodded her agreement. Staring at Hyde, she said, “Thanks for coming. I’ll let you boys know if we see that asshole again.”
As I was about to leave, something struck me. Turning back to Fox, I said, “This guy? You ever seen him before?”
Fox shook his head. “Nope.”
“You been buying off Marx for long?”
“I’ve never met Marx. The dude I buy from is a scrawny teenager I met when his brother came to get a tattoo.”
“So he works for Marx, too?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know how Marx is about to become so big in Sydney when he’s only ever been some two-bit operation.”
“Thanks for the info, man,” I said.
As we exited Monroe’s home, I said to Hyde, “Seems to me that someone is backing Marx. And we need to find out who that is.”
14
