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Even now, as I finish off my third set with the weights, I notice a few whispering amongst themselves, casting glances at me and the other brothers in the gym. One of the guys, Skeeter, keeps sneering when he thinks I’m not looking. I’ve never trusted that piece of shit, so it doesn’t surprise me he’s in Fat Mike’s pocket.
Shaking my head, I do the last few reps when someone’s pager chimes. I lower the weights back onto the rack as Skeeter pulls his pager from his pocket and looks at the screen, grinning.
I can’t hear what he says to the guys around him as they begin to pack up their stuff, looking smug. As they walk past me, each one avoids making eye contact. Except Skeeter.
“Maverick,” he sneers, his yellow teeth flashing behind chapped lips.
“Skeeter,” I respond, nodding.
He scoffs, not stopping, I keep my eyes on them as they leave the room.
Blowing out a breath, I make eye contact with the four brothers in the gym, receiving a mixture of raised eyebrows and shrugs, before walking toward the bench to grab my towel and water bottle. The door abruptly flies open. I glance up sharply, half expecting Skeeter to come walking back in.
Instead, Smoke strides in. His grey eyes flash as he makes his way toward me. I down my water as he stops by the bench. His analytical gaze scans the room before landing back on me.
“I saw Skeeter and the ‘sheep’ heading out.” His glare deepens. “Heard Fat Mike was calling some sort of meeting.”
I narrow my eyes. “The fuck? Sothatwas the page.”
“What page?”
“Right before they left, Skeeter got a page. Made them head out pretty damn quick.”
Stuffing the end of my towel into my back pocket, I begin to head out, Smoke falling into step beside me. “How did you hear about his meeting?”
“Poot,” he says.
I nod, understanding. Besides being the gassiest man around, Poot is also a big mouth. The guy can’t keep a secret to save his soul.
“I’m surprised they told him.”
“Me, too. Honestly, he probably just overheard the guys talking and took that as being included in the conversation.”
“Probably,” I sigh, heading up the stairs toward my room. Everyone has a room in the clubhouse, even if you live somewhere else.
Unlocking the door, I walk in, Smoke following and closing the door. “So, do we know what this meeting is about?” I ask.
“No fucking idea. But judging by their giddy expressions, it can’t be anything good.” Smoke blows out a breath, spinning my desk chair around and sitting, crossing his arms over the back. “I’m worried, Maverick.”
“You’re not alone,” I respond, sitting on the edge of my bed.
Smoke nods as we both fall into a contemplative silence.
I am so tired of worrying over everything lately. It started slowly. Just a few mishaps. Cops showing up randomly. Bikes having issues on runs. I really hadn’t noticed anything at first, but it gradually began to add up until we all questioned everything. And I think we’ve all come to the same conclusion. Nothing over the past few years has been an accident. More like Fat Mike “cleaning house”.
“Have you seen Dog lately?” Smoke suddenly asks.
I snap my eyes to his, slowly shaking my head and frowning. “Shit. I haven’t seen him in days. Last time I did, he was pissed about something Fat Mike had said. I told him to just chill about it, lift weights if he needed to, but he told me he couldn’t let it go.
“Fuck, Smoke. What the hell is going on?” I growl.
“I don’t know, but he isn’t the first one to go missing.”
Nodding, I glance around the room. I really hoped the guys who had disappeared had just decided to leave the club life. The only other possibility made my chest tighten with rage.
“It can’t keep going like this, Maverick. Are we all going to eventually disappear?”
I know Smoke is right. Something needs to be done, and soon, but I’m just not sure what. Damn, days like this exhaust me.
