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“Jeez. In broad daylight?” the prospect asks.
“Yep.” Moore steps away from the counter to reach for the radio and speak into it. He goes back and forth with the voice on the other end several times.
“They don’t need you as backup?” Jordan remarks, apparently able to understand the static-filled conversation.
“Nope. Clayton PD is processing the scene of a possible attempted kidnapping gone wrong. A single gunshot victim taken to the hospital. The suspect took a slug but is still at large.”
“The shooting was in Clayton, and they’re still looking for the shooter?” Jordan asks.
“One of the shooters.”
“And the other shooter was a member of the Devil Hounds MC?”
“The Devil Hounds?” I exclaim before shutting my mouth when Moore’s eyes narrow at us.
Jesus. How did Jordan pick up all of that? I didn’t hear them say the MC’s name.
Oh, shit. What if it was Thane? Or one of his friends? Or Isaac Perry?
Oh, fuck, what if Barrett was involved? I’m pretty sure Isaac wants him dead.
“How do you figure the Devil Hounds are involved?” Moore sounds like he’s interrogating Jordan.
“Code purple is gang activity, right?” Jordan asks. “And the Devil Hounds are the only ones in Clayton who fit that bill.”
Moore looks from me to Jordan. “And there’s only one other gang nearby – the Savage Kings.”
“The Kings aren’t a gang,” Jordan responds without hesitation.
“Splitting hairs,” Moore replies. “Is there a beef between the Kings and the Hounds?”
“No, sir,” Jordan answers.
Moore looks to me.
“No, sir, no beef,” I lie.
“If a King is gonna show up at a hospital in town with a gunshot wound, I need to know. We can’t have any innocents getting caught in the middle of a gang feud.”
“We haven’t heard anything about any shooting, sir,” Jordan assures him.
I’m already unzipping my coveralls to get to my phone and check the group chat. I scroll through the most recent texts, but none of them include the words “gun” or “shot.”
“You’ll be in touch if you do hear anything?”
“Of course,” the kid tells the deputy. And even I don’t know if Jordan’s been honest with him or not.
“All right then. Y’all have a good one,” Moore says before he finally walks out.
As soon as the door shuts, Jordan turns to me. “Anything from Remy? Colt? Barrett?”
“I don’t think so.” I hand him my cell, and he scrolls through the messages.
“Nothing mentioned here.” He offers me the phone back. When I take it, he says, “RJ, what if it was Thane?”
That ache in my chest is back, throbbing even worse than before.
Pressing my fingers to it again, I tell him the truth. “I really hope it wasn’t Thane.”
