“They ‘all’ left? Did you know they were leaving?” Bull asks, turning to look at my brother, who just shrugs in response.
And that’s when I know something’s wrong. I hear my plate hitting the floor before I register dropping it and I’m nearly running down to the storage room outside our offices with Bull right behind me.
Hitting the code on the door, I nearly yank it off its hinges getting inside—even though I already know that the package we’ve been holding won’t be in the nook in the back.
“Those fucking cunts!” I bellow when my eyes confirm what I was expecting. Then I turn, picking through things on the shelves just in case someone simply moved the oxy we’re holding for the Ohio chapter. “Come on. Come on.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bull growls from behind me and I turn to see the calculating look in his eyes as he considers what to do. “Roads are shit right now. You call everyone up, includingourcops. They went South or West, I’m guessing California like they said because they weren’t exactly smart enough to lie about that part. The storms that have hit us, have continued on East, they’re not going to chance spinning off the road and getting busted with that package.”
“Bella…” I say the name of the Kitty Kat who walked in while I was focused on checking this room.
“I’ll handle that, you get everyone together and stock up three SUVs. Two heading out on both of the major roads until we get word about where they went, then the third one stands ready for backup.”
I nod my head and move past him to get on it.
Son of a bitch, who the fuck let them see the code to this room? Questions and lists of things to do are scrolling through my mind as I head to the office I share. Picking a burner out of a pile, I start dialing numbers from memory, relaying the same message to each person who picks up.
Be on the lookout and advise if anyone spots a car full of girls who look like they were up partying all night. More details to follow. Reward for anyone who spots them.
As always, I keep my phone calls brief and while that works well for the law enforcement types, the gas station attendants I’ve added to my network prefer a little chatter and coaxing; I just don’t have time for that today.
The only thing that bothers me is that Mills didn’t pick up and that man picks up his phone at all hours of the day, no matter where he is—including the shitter.
After a moment, I dial Joanie’s number; my stomach instantly tightening up when she doesn’t answer my call. I quickly debate trying to track down that preacher that Joanie introduced me to, but my phone rings, drawing me back to the club business at hand.
*
“Thanks, Prez,” I tell him, relieved that he’s taking the lye in my place. “I owe you one.”
Once my contacts came through, Frost, Thunder, and a couple of the guys quickly caught up to the Kitty Kats and recovered the package.
Separating the girls, taking their devices, and buying them all different bus tickets was the next part of the plan. It’ll be a few days before any of them will be able to replace their phones and they’ll have their own problems to sort out.
None of them knew each other before they arrived in Sturgis a few months back, so the fact that they’ll never hear from Alli again shouldn’t seem strange to any of them.
With Bull making the run tonight, I’m free to head to Kent and get a read on what’s happening.
Once my bag is packed, I’m nearly to the door when I see Carson strolling inside and shake my head in disgust. Legacy or not, his arrogance is going to come to a crashing halt when Bull cuts him loose.
“You’re a couple of days late,” I growl at him. “Might as well just turn your ass around.”
“I was busy,” he excuses himself with a shrug. “Figure I’d come for a drink.”
“Come back when you have a patch,” I reply, letting my bag fall to the floor beside me as I square up. I may not have Thunder’s size, but my brother taught me to fight and even with the inches that Carson has on me, I know I could take him.
Not that he’ll have the balls to try anything.
Freezing in his tracks, he looks around, undoubtedly looking for someone to invite him to join them for a drink, but the room has gone silent with all eyes on my face.
“You got a problem with me?”
“Drinking here is a privilege for prospects, not a right, especially when you can’t be bothered to show up when called,” I remind him, noticing several of the men around the room nodding their heads.
Carson balls up his fists and I can see the calculations in his eyes as clearly as words on a page, then a light seems to go on and he looks around the room. Clocking each man looking at him, he looks at them expectantly, waiting for any one of them to say something—which no one does. He finally understands the message that Bull hasn’t relayed to him yet.
The fact that his father was a King doesn’t automatically mean he will be.
Without another word, he turns and walks out. I shrug, more to myself than anyone watching, then grab my bag and head out to the parking lot.
