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“I knew it,” Darkness said with smug satisfaction.
“You ain’t the fucking genius you seem to think you are. I hope you know that.”
Darkness’ voice sobered. “Ain’t no call to be gettin’ nasty with me, brother.”
Sighing, Ryder dropped down onto the sofa and dragged one hand over the side of his head. “Sorry, man. You’re right. What’s up? You must have called for a reason.”
“I just got a call. The night watchman says that new property we’ve got our eyes on got tagged tonight. Thinking about going out for a look and wondered if you want to join me.”
The house was shrouded in darkness, and Tiffany was off in dreamland and not likely to wake up till morning. Late morning. Which left Ryder with fuck-all to do. “Well, since I clearly don’t have anything interesting to do with my night, sure.”
Darkness laughed. It was an empty, soulless sound that sent a shiver up Ryder’s spine. “Meet you there, brother.”
Going to the laundry room, Ryder pulled some clothing from the basket and got dressed. As he pulled the zipper on his fly up, he frowned, realizing he was pulling on dirty clothing to keep from waking his lady. He didn’t know quite how he felt about that. His club brothers would definitely consider that being pussy-whipped.
But whatever, right? At least he had a woman, which was more than half those assholes could say for themselves.
Quietly leaving the house, Ryder climbed onto his bike and coasted down the driveway a bit until he was certain the noise of the engine wouldn’t wake Tiffany, then he hit the road, ending up at the site in a little under an hour. In the distance, he spotted Darkness sitting on his bike, talking to the night watchman. Ryder eased over to listen to their conversation.
“Well, what can you tell me, dipshit?”
“I-I did… didn’t see… see… see… no… nothing.”
The disgusted look on his president’s face told Ryder the man wasn’t coping with Dwaine’s speech impediment very well. Motioning him over, Ryder began asking yes and no questions to get the information they needed.
“It appears Dwaine did rounds each hour and was working the seven-to-seven night shift. On his ten-pm round, he noticed the graffiti, meaning the unit had been tagged somewhere between eight and nine,” he relayed. “Can we see the log entry for that period of time?”
“There ain… ain’t been no… nobody… but… m… me.”
Darkness climbed off his bike, impatience radiating off him. “Let’s go have a look.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Ryder said, uneasiness creeping through him. “You go have a look, and I’ll circle around, just in case.”
“Good call.”
Knowing that Darkness would give him a ten-minute head start to scope out the area, Ryder took off on foot. Pulling out his gun, he moved soundlessly through the brush surrounding the property. Thinking back to his childhood, Ryder felt as if he were eight years old again. His father used to take him out to the forest, and they would take turns stalking each other through the thicket with paintball guns. Even to this day, the sting of a well-placed paintball pellet brought back fond memories. The thrill of nailing his old man every now and then never got old.
Something about stalking at night really flipped all the right switches for Ryder. The low-light situation, the chilled air filling his lungs, and the slight mist his exhale created felt both familiar and right.
His ears perked up, as he heard a slight rustle of leaves off to his left. Moving silently in that direction, Ryder brought his weapon up when he heard someone click a bullet into a rifle. There was no other sound like it. A thrill surged through him as he realized that he was probably up against a sniper, maybe even a professional hitman.
Adrenaline pulsed through his system as Ryder put one sure foot in front of the other. He hadn’t gone more than a few feet when a glimmer in the moonlight caught his eye. Pulling a branch aside, he zeroed in on it and discovered it was the backside of a scope.
Smiling at the leather-clad female setting her sights on Darkness, he raised his weapon and squeezed off a shot to her shoulder. The arm holding the gun went limp, and he moved forward before she could turn around. Jerking her up and back by her hair, Ryder discovered she had several weapons hidden on her small body. Divesting her of the various assortments of handguns, knives, and her trusty snipper rifle, he perp walked her down to the warehouse.
The look on his friend’s face when he caught sight of the woman was nothing short of pure, blind fury. “Abigail Fucking Andrews. Long time, no see, bitch.”
“Darwin Fucking Dawson, as I live and breathe.”
Ryder did a double take between the two of them as they shot daggers at each other. Tossing the sniper rifle to Darkness, he stated flatly, “Bitch had you in her sights when I rolled up on her.”
The woman fell onto one knee. Glancing down, Ryder realized she had one finger pressed into the bullet wound and her hand smashing down around it. “Forgot to mention, I winged her.”
Darkness stalked up to her, crunching gravel under his boots. Squatting down, he looked her in the face. “Let me get this straight. You were going to shoot my ass?”
“I got no choice,” she claimed, her voice strained. “The devil’s comin’, babe. Either you’re taken out, or my world goes to shit.”
The older biker’s upper lip curved into a snarl. “You still run with Seven Devils? That ain’t so smart. I’m surprised you’re still walking and talking, bitch.”
