A Leap in the Dark (Assassins of Youth MC Book 2) by Layla Wolfe Page A

are the same people who tried to ruin these kids. Now they’re doing it to them all over again. We’ve got to put a stop to this shit.”
    “How does this ‘writer’ know about Deloy’s school? Who’s feeding him this sort of information?”
    “We’re working on that, too, Oaklyn. Don’t worry. We’re not gonna just sit here and take this shit. This guy knows way too much for a guy no one in our backyard even talks to.”
    “I’ll say. I suspect that bartender.”
    Then a couple more men entered—the Stanford geologist Dust Bunny, the coffee shop owner Yosemite Sam—and it was time for them to enter their “chapel.” Gideon stood, asking me,
    “How’s Levon’s dog? He gonna pull through?”
    “Yes,” I spat, “no thanks to that corrupt building inspector. He’s Pratt’s puppet too. Poor Lazarus comes down here and this is the first shit that happens to him? Poor baby is still at Urgent Care on IV fluids.”
    “Yeah. Heard about that fucked-up mess. We would take care of that too, but that’s Levon’s battle to fight.” Gideon chuckled. “He’d probably get tweaked if we took care of it and sucked all the wind out of his sails.”
    “Yes,” I said skeptically. “I just hope he doesn’t get in trouble when he ‘takes care of it.’ All eyes are on him now.”
    “Don’t worry, sister. We’ve got it.”
    He knocked twice on the table with his knuckles and the men filed into their conference room. Folding the paper into my purse, I drifted over to where Dingo avidly surfed the net, Deloy looking over his shoulder.
    I murmured, “If it’s top secret stuff, I’d turn the computer around so our friendly neighborhood bartender can’t see what you’re doing.” As if he could hear me, Skippy Cavanaugh glared at me again. He had nothing better to do than to endlessly polish the bar.
    Dingo and Deloy glanced at Skippy. “Oh. I know. I trust that guy about as far as I can throw him,” said Dingo, but he rotated his computer a few inches anyway. I gasped when I saw what Dingo was looking at.
    “What the hell—”
    He held out a calming hand. “It’s all research, Oaklyn. I know, I know. It’s a horrible job but someone’s got to do it.”
    Deloy’s eyes were round with fear and awe. “It’s the darknet, Oaklyn.” He said “darknet” as though saying “chunky raccoon vomit.” “These are camboys who perform for set prices per minute.”
    “I can see ,” I said, hand to my chest like the judgmental prude Levon thought I was. Dingo was surfing fast, not settling on any one camboy, but the flashes I caught were certainly enough to tell me these poor boys were degraded. Mostly they just masturbated but a few had a horrifying array of dildos of all sizes and textures. They penetrated themselves lewdly, apparently capable of popping impossibly large items in the toaster. A couple suspended themselves from the ceiling, one hanging by piercings in his pectorals. “What are you hoping to find?”
    Dingo said, “We’ve narrowed down the geographical location to a hundred square miles.”
    Deloy said, “Dingo’s a frickin’ genius .” Mild swearing like that was new to Deloy, too. His entire world was expanding—a bit too far, I feared. Did he know about the insinuations in the article? Like any good parent, if he didn’t know about it, I would try to protect him as much as possible. “He can find anything on the interwebs.”
    Dingo whispered, so I had to lean down to hear. “I’ve found a few tags and indications that our mayor Pratt has been on here—doing what, I don’t know yet. But when I find out, we’re going to nail that mother to the floorboards.”
    “Dingo is getting his top rocker,” Deloy said with shining eyes.
    I shook my head vacantly. “What does that mean?”
    Deloy explained, “See this moon-shaped patch on his back—Avalanche, Utah? Well when he goes full patch he gets a top rocker that’ll say The Assassins of Youth. Then he gets to attend