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“Glad you guys came by. That shit was extreme,” Tina said.
Ryder made for the door, but Tina stopped him with a hand on his arm. “If you ever want some company….” she whispered, letting her voice trail off.
Ryder studied her for a second, looking like he might accept the invitation he’d been offered a hundred times before. “No, thanks,” he whispered back.
Talon turned for the door, wondering what kind of woman it would take to bust Ryder out of his shell.
Funny, in a matter of weeks, he’d find out.
*************************
Gate
Gate watched Stash and Rooster drag Spider’s thug into theinterrogation room.
The Iron Dragons compound took up an old high school gym and parking lot. When Gate had taken over the gavel, they’d bought the property and remodeled a bit, so now the exterior was red brick, which had been pricey as shit, but looked badass industrial.
The place was so big that they’d also added a loft with some desks and filing cabinets, used by whomever needed office space at the time.
Gate’s office was a walled off corner of the loft. Black walls, no windows. Perfect.
The gym had been built so long ago that there was a bomb shelter underneath, reached by a trap door in what was now the kitchen. They’d converted the shelter into storage, with a space sectioned off to keep unexpected guests.
Like this bastard.
Stash and Rooster hauled his body into a metal chair, and Stash went to work with zip ties.
When Stash was finished, he yelled, “Done!” and raised his hands in the air like he’d just tied a calf in a rodeo.
Gate shook his head at the little kid bullshit Stash and Rooster found so hilarious.
“You get a name?” Gate asked.
“Nope,” Rooster answered. “Brick threw him from the second floor and then knocked him out.”
“Coolest shit ever. Can’t believe we missed it,” Stash added.
“Fucking video game,” Rooster said with a nod.
“We’ll write that into the next one,” Stash agreed.
Stash and Rooster were renowned in the gaming industry for developing the most cutting edge, realistic video games on the market, under false names and social media profiles so their groupies never had a clue.
Rooster wrote the story lines, Stash wrote the code, and they designed the graphics together. They were both freaky smart and weird as shit.
And they were fucking loaded.
They lived like teenagers in the compound, but they could buy and sell the whole club and everybody in it a thousand times over. And they didn’t give a shit.
Rumor was, they shared everything, including women.
Gate shook his head, “Guess Brick made a statement.”
“You gonna wait for him to get back?” Stash asked.
It was a good question.
Gate was the president of the club, but Brick had an affinity for making people talk.
