one thing I know about you, it’s that.”
I sagged onto the couch. “What am I going to do?”
Nicole slid the deadbolt home with a click, then joined me on the couch. “Like I said. The right thing.”
I groaned. “Why does the right thing have to suck so much?”
“That’s the pain of being a grown-up. Or so my mom tells me.”
I grabbed my purse from the ground and dug through it for my cellphone. I knew what I had to do. Didn’t make it any easier, though.
“You gonna be okay?”
I looked up from my cellphone screen. Nicole stared back at me, her head tilted and her eyes full of sympathy.
I sighed. “I guess. As long as he stays away. I have little to no willpower apparently when it comes to that man.”
“You know, he didn’t strike me as a bad sort per se.”
“Nic, really? Bikers? Drugs? What exactly made you think he’s an okay guy?”
“Well, you didn’t get his side of the story. You kinda accused, then ran away. He didn’t look guilty to me.”
“That’s part of his charm. The enigma thing where you can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. And he didn’t exactly deny the charge, anyway.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No. Drugs are a deal-breaker. I’m done.” My fingers flew across the screen as I dialed my work extension. After a few rings, Seleste picked up. “Hey, Seleste. Can you do me a favor and get Jerry? Yeah, I’ll hold.”
Nicole stood up. “All I’m saying is I don’t think you’ve seen the last of him. He didn’t strike me as the quitting type.”
“Doesn’t matter—I am. Yes, I’m here, Jerry. I have to report something I saw in the parking garage…”
Chapter 9
Zag
J UNE 20
Zag left his bike one block over from the Mother Lode parking garage and walked over. But he knew what he’d find before he even got onto the right level. The squawk of police radios told the story for him. Cursing under his breath at Preacher’s stupidity, he stopped his ascent of the stairs one floor below and debated his options.
He didn’t need to be spotted by one of the pigs and scooped up as an accomplice to whatever the fuck Preacher had got himself into. But he needed to see for himself. Fuck it. Continuing up the stairs as quietly as possible, he crept to the edge of the stairwell and peered around the corner.
Two squad cars with the lights flashing pinned three bikes in their parking spots. Preacher sat in the back of one of the squad cars while the cops were patting down the other two guys. But once they turned around, Preacher’s betrayal shone like a neon light. There was no mistaking the Saddletramp logo in the blinking red and blue light. Goddammit! Or the white powder in plastic bags next to the bundles of cash on the hood.
Shaking his head, Zag quietly walked back down the steps. Only when he was clear of the stairwell did he take out his cellphone from his jacket pocket to make a call.
“Reb, we’ve got a problem.”
—
A few hours later, Zag waited with his back up against the wall outside of the True Brothers’ clubhouse. Deep in the industrial district of Reno, the clubhouse had been the go-to place for Zag all of his adult life. Between the meeting room, bar, and bedrooms, he’d racked up more hours here than any other place, ever. It was home. Plus the location made it the perfect area for impromptu bike shows and burnouts. Their neighbors couldn’t give a flying fuck, since the bikers usually didn’t have meetings during “business hours.”
Unlike today. Today’s emergency meeting hadn’t given most of the members much notice. Like his buddy Bumper. He’d been trying for hours to get Bumper on the phone to warn him about what was about to go down, but Bump hadn’t answered. He only hoped Bumper got the text about the unscheduled meeting and showed up tonight.
This shit was gonna suck hard.
Zag jerked his head in greeting as a few members filed past him and into the building. He could only wait a few more minutes before he
I sagged onto the couch. “What am I going to do?”
Nicole slid the deadbolt home with a click, then joined me on the couch. “Like I said. The right thing.”
I groaned. “Why does the right thing have to suck so much?”
“That’s the pain of being a grown-up. Or so my mom tells me.”
I grabbed my purse from the ground and dug through it for my cellphone. I knew what I had to do. Didn’t make it any easier, though.
“You gonna be okay?”
I looked up from my cellphone screen. Nicole stared back at me, her head tilted and her eyes full of sympathy.
I sighed. “I guess. As long as he stays away. I have little to no willpower apparently when it comes to that man.”
“You know, he didn’t strike me as a bad sort per se.”
“Nic, really? Bikers? Drugs? What exactly made you think he’s an okay guy?”
“Well, you didn’t get his side of the story. You kinda accused, then ran away. He didn’t look guilty to me.”
“That’s part of his charm. The enigma thing where you can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. And he didn’t exactly deny the charge, anyway.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No. Drugs are a deal-breaker. I’m done.” My fingers flew across the screen as I dialed my work extension. After a few rings, Seleste picked up. “Hey, Seleste. Can you do me a favor and get Jerry? Yeah, I’ll hold.”
Nicole stood up. “All I’m saying is I don’t think you’ve seen the last of him. He didn’t strike me as the quitting type.”
“Doesn’t matter—I am. Yes, I’m here, Jerry. I have to report something I saw in the parking garage…”
Chapter 9
Zag
J UNE 20
Zag left his bike one block over from the Mother Lode parking garage and walked over. But he knew what he’d find before he even got onto the right level. The squawk of police radios told the story for him. Cursing under his breath at Preacher’s stupidity, he stopped his ascent of the stairs one floor below and debated his options.
He didn’t need to be spotted by one of the pigs and scooped up as an accomplice to whatever the fuck Preacher had got himself into. But he needed to see for himself. Fuck it. Continuing up the stairs as quietly as possible, he crept to the edge of the stairwell and peered around the corner.
Two squad cars with the lights flashing pinned three bikes in their parking spots. Preacher sat in the back of one of the squad cars while the cops were patting down the other two guys. But once they turned around, Preacher’s betrayal shone like a neon light. There was no mistaking the Saddletramp logo in the blinking red and blue light. Goddammit! Or the white powder in plastic bags next to the bundles of cash on the hood.
Shaking his head, Zag quietly walked back down the steps. Only when he was clear of the stairwell did he take out his cellphone from his jacket pocket to make a call.
“Reb, we’ve got a problem.”
—
A few hours later, Zag waited with his back up against the wall outside of the True Brothers’ clubhouse. Deep in the industrial district of Reno, the clubhouse had been the go-to place for Zag all of his adult life. Between the meeting room, bar, and bedrooms, he’d racked up more hours here than any other place, ever. It was home. Plus the location made it the perfect area for impromptu bike shows and burnouts. Their neighbors couldn’t give a flying fuck, since the bikers usually didn’t have meetings during “business hours.”
Unlike today. Today’s emergency meeting hadn’t given most of the members much notice. Like his buddy Bumper. He’d been trying for hours to get Bumper on the phone to warn him about what was about to go down, but Bump hadn’t answered. He only hoped Bumper got the text about the unscheduled meeting and showed up tonight.
This shit was gonna suck hard.
Zag jerked his head in greeting as a few members filed past him and into the building. He could only wait a few more minutes before he
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