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CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
RIFF
The patched-over clubhouse comes into view, and I look around at the grounds. It’s completely fucking open and vulnerable. No wonder this other club has targeted them. They’re goddamn sitting ducks.
I don’t like this at all. How is this club this open? How do they have no coverage? There aren’t any trees or anything around to keep another club from just walking up the back of the property and jumping the fence. It’s beyond poor planning at this point and just ludicrous.
Pulling up to the gate, Frogger talks to the guard and then jerks his chin toward him. The gate slowly opens, and we guide our bikes inside and down the wide fucking open path toward the wide fucking open building.
Jesus Christ, it’s a wonder this club hasn’t already been bombed and taken over completely. No wonder they were in trouble and we were able to offer a patch-over. They were probably gagging for it, at the thought for protection alone.
As soon as we’re in front of the building, I kick my stand down and climb off of my bike. Looking around a bit more, I shake my head a couple of times. Reaching into my pocket, I take out my cell and send a text to Ironfist.
MADE IT. HOW’S MY OLD LADY?
IRONFIST: SHE’S IN YOUR ROOM. SOMETHING ISN’T RIGHT THERE, BROTHER.
Fuck. I know it isn’t, but I’m not about to tell him that.
PREGNANT. WHO KNOWS.
IRONFIST: GET YOUR SHIT DONE AND COME HOME. I DON’T SPEAK WOMAN.
I snort just as the door to the clubhouse opens. Three men march out of the building. They’re all wearing different expressions on their faces, but they don’t say anything right away. Every expression they have may be different, except it’s clear that they are all three concerned underneath it all.
“Welcome,” one of the men says. “We suffered a devastating blow last night. Our president’s daughter was kidnapped. No ransom set yet, but we know it’s them.”
My brows rise in surprise. I didn’t expect this at all. Clearing my throat, I take a few steps toward them. I introduce myself, Frogger, Bans, and Bryce. They all three jerk their chins in greeting and tell us their names.
“This is Slots, Pins, and I’m Uno.”
“Nice to meet you,” I offer.
Bans takes a step forward. “You the VP?” he asks, jerking his chin toward Uno. I know that he’s the VP, his cut declares it so, but I let Bans ask anyway.
Uno nods his head, his eyes flicking between us and landing on Bans. “I am,” he says.
“You take care of that list that Prez sent over?”
Uno’s eyes open wide, his attention shifts to his feet. He dips his chin then he lifts it again and his gaze lands on Bans again. I was told that there was confirmation that they were all taken care of, so I’m curious to see what this guy’s answer is.
“All but one.”
“Then we can’t help you,” Bans says.
“It’s his fucking son-in-law,” Uno growls. “The daughter was kidnapped. Now we’re going to kill her old man?”
Bans nods his head once. “Yes, you are,” he says. “Right fucking now, in front of us,” I say.
The three men are quiet. They don’t say anything immediately, then Slots turns and walks back into the clubhouse. I don’t follow him, none of us do. He could be going to get a bunch of guns to bring back and kill all three of us.
But I doubt that he will.
He has far too much riding on this. They need us too badly. Not only is the president’s daughter in fucking trouble, the rest of the women and children in his club will be next. One by one, they will all be picked off.
They know it too.
So, when they return, it’s not with weapons, it’s with the man himself.
