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I think we were all waiting for the penny to drop, to be hit with something so hard that it would knock us off our feet. It wasn’t unusual to have danger surround the clubhouse, but it also hadn’t been this crazy for a long time. Not where you were constantly checking over your shoulder expecting someone to be standing there ready to blow your damn head off. We were on edge, and it was wearing us down, quickly.
I shook my head. “Sorry man, I’m trying you know. But there’s a lot of shit to go through, and I’m just one guy. These places I’m trying to get into, they have secure servers. The moment I get inside, and they figure I’m there, I’m thrown straight back out on my ass and have to start all over again.”
He scrubbed at his face, finally turning his gaze to mine. “I appreciate the long hours you’re putting in. I know it’s not easy and could impact your probation.”
I cringed. “Club comes first, man. Don’t even worry about it.”
He was right! If I was caught digging into government records again, that was it—do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I was looking at a long stint in jail. I was still on probation for some shit I pulled years ago. I got caught with classified files on my computer that the government had twisted around, and made to look like they were there for the purposes of terrorist acts against the country.
That wasn’t the case.
Another chapter had asked me to look into a guy who was applying to prospect. Echo, the club president, had his suspicions about the guy’s history and was running on a hunch that he was an undercover agent working for the FBI. Turns out his hunch was directly on the money, and I hadn’t been able to cover my tracks fast enough. A rooky fucking move that I should never have let happen. But I also wasn’t to know that when the club hit the guy up about the information that I’d found, that he would fight back and in turn, the club had to take him out.
The whole club could have been brought down, ours and theirs.
But after taking a plea deal, where I admitted to acting alone, and the fact that I’d never had any contact with the agent, they put me away and dropped their investigation—or so they say.
I did three fucking years.
Not my first time away and probably wouldn’t be my last. But the catch was, that I had a ten-year probation, one where I’d sworn not to own a computer nor use my abilities again. The judge enforced it, saying that I was a risk to national security.
I was banned from ‘hacking.’
It was almost laughable that they thought they could somehow enforce that shit. The day I got out, I had bought an entirely new set up.
The club needed someone who could do shit that other people couldn’t. Who could find the most valuable information that these bastards thought they could hide, and use it to our advantage to protect ourselves.
So fuck the law, if it meant doing what was best for my club and my brothers. Jail time was worth it. It always makes me laugh when I think about how the boys chose my road name. Most of the boys in the club were pretty good with motors, bikes or cars. They’d grown up around them or were self-taught, it was part of the reason they fell in love with being a member of the club.
Me though, I was good with my hands in other ways. Give me a computer and my fingers would move over the keys faster than any normal person could keep up with. Give me a set of tools, and I couldn’t even fucking name them or what they were used for.
While I was prospecting, one of the members demanded I help him fix up an old bike. Being a good prospect, I simply agreed, thinking that it couldn’t be that complicated.
I was wrong.
The minute he asked me to grab him a wrench, I stood there, staring at the tool box for a good five minutes before he realized I had no idea what I was doing. Then he promptly laughed me out of the garage and told me to send him someone that did.
Unfortunately, the whole club found my mistake hilarious and from there on, the name had stuck.
“You want a drink, Wrench?” Ham asked from behind the bar, just as Sugar dashed past the doorway, her head thrown back in laughter.
I cleared my throat as I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have—”
An earth shattering explosion shook the building, stunning both Optimus and me for a second. The beer he held in his hand dropped to the floor with a sharp crash. I gripped hard to the bar, trying to steady myself as my mind sorted through the fuzz. It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like I was frozen there forever, unable to fight past the ringing in my ears. That was until Harlyn’s cries pierced through the air, and Blizzard rushed through the patio doors with the child over his shoulder and one arm sheltering Sugar.
“Get them to my room,” Op ordered as he rushed forward, checking them over quickly and pressing a light kiss to Sugar’s head.
I gritted my teeth, but there was no time for me to be jealous. “Wrench! Get armed. We need to check out what’s going on,” Op yelled over his shoulder.
My own eyes moved over Harlyn and Sugar’s bodies, noting no sign of injury, before I turned and leaped over the bar, Ham handing me an already loaded shotgun.
I palmed his shoulder. “Good work, kid.”
Brothers rushed down the staircase, taking three or more stairs at a time, already holding weapons, prepared for a war. Blizzard rushed the girls from the room as Neil shot through the open doors, breathing heavily with a limp Chelsea over his shoulder.
Optimus stepped in front of him, lifting her chin and cupping her face. Her eyes were open, but she was in a daze.
Another much smaller explosion had us all running for defensive positions, and had Optimus storming toward the front door like he was the fucking Terminator or something, snatching Leo’s rifle as he stomped past and raising it to his eye. One swift kick of his heavy boot had the door flinging open.
I moved forward in haste, wondering if I’d have time to pull him out of the way before a hail of bullets hit his body but nothing came. Instead, the crackle of a fire was the only noise to fill the air, and as I stepped outside behind my president, my eyes scanning the street and the lot for some kind of enemy. I could feel the intense heat that seemed to be radiating from the tree across the lot.
Where Chelsea’s car was meant to be.
And now all that remained was a charred shell, almost burnt beyond recognition.
Shit had just gotten serious.
