“You ready?” Prospect asks as he sees me emerge from behind the emergency doors into the waiting room. Abigail is already standing there talking to him.
“Yup. Think we can stop at a drive-through on the way? I’m in need of some seriously greasy food, and fries are right up my alley.”
The guy smirks and nods before giving a chin lift to the rest of the brothers standing about. I don’t see Dad or Kooper, but I know my whereabouts will be reported to both.
Guess that’s a point in the club’s favor. You never have to go hunt down someone to tell them bye or anything. Someone is always there to do itfor you.
Chapter 5—Kooper
Three months later
Ieye the girl Flint brought up to the officer level. She ain’t much but a pile of mud. Another night of bullshitting around the club and another random issue coming about. This one’s a perimeter breach that turned into a mud-crusted woman who looks about three seconds away from trying to run down the stairs on one leg. I noticed her limping up the flight, refusing to take Flint’s offer of help. The idiot just smirked at her response, but I’m smart enough to know that piqued his interest. Piqued mine as well. A woman who comes into the wolves’ den with her head held high, even if she’s shaking like a leaf, ain’t the normal type. And Hounds don’t deal in normal anything.
If I were ever to have a woman longer than just a night, I’d take a strongheaded one. Even a bit crazy in the head. Need that in a woman who’s willing to stick it out around here. And to deal with me. I ain’t the easiest to get along with. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve never had a girlfriend. I fuck them and then leave. Or they do, and there ain’t no hard feelings about it. It’s just the way it’s always been. If I were to have one who stayed, I’d need her to be interesting for more than a night. You can usually figure out a person in one night. I’d need someone with a bit of a crazy personality to keep me guessingandinterested for more than a few hours if she plans to rope me into a relationship.
First it was Chains and his Mama Bear. Tonight, Bulldog claimed his Lady. Who’s going to go next is anyone’s guess. Maybe it’ll be me and this country bumpkin who just rolled onto our property. She’s intriguing for sure. But before I can even start thinking about getting her washed up, I hear the boss yelling from the other side of his office door.
“I fucking told you I would take care of that shit. Don’t you for one fucking second think I won’t skin your hide, girl.” I wait a beat, like all the other brothers up here, as we look at one another. Could be anyone he’s talking to on the phone. Anyone in the world. But it isn’t. We all know that. And I’m holding my breath for him not to call me in.
“Kooper! Get your ass in here.”
“Fuck,” I grumble, then sneer at my brothers when they snicker at me as I stomp by them. When I agreed to the babysitting gig, I didn’t expect this much of an issue. I have her place all wired. Not a peep of anyone looking into Ruby for any other reason than her being her: annoying as shit and not a mouth guard on her at all. If I wanted to spend money on her, I’d buy a muzzle. But it would be a waste, as the girl can’t take a hint to save her life.
“Close the fucking door,” the boss says, and I do what Ruby never does. I listen.
“What did the princess do now?” I drawl. Getting tired of all the issues I have to deal with. First, it was getting her and her roommate into a place that was safe enough for the boss to approve of. Had to pull a few strings to get it done right. Ruby still says it was her doing, that her super awesome negotiations got the price to something she and Nat could afford, even though I told her it wasn’t. It took me and somestrongerwords with the landlord to make it so the girlsweren’t getting ripped off. Ruby denies I did that, that the club was involved. Sure, fine, whatever. If she wants to pretend that she’s all big and bad and can do things in the world alone, I’ve got no issue with it. It’s just part of the job. Securing the assets. That’s all it is. Who gives a fuck about where the credit goes in her mind? I’ve got my own mind, too, and I know the truth.
Then it was the car. Hers was totaled according to the insurance company when she got run off the road a few months back. Getting her one that she approved of—again, a fucking nightmare. Boss had his own specifications as well. I did, too, but mine were for the job. It had to have certain safety features so if she was in a wreck again, police, EMS, and I would all be notified at once. She only cared about how many chargers and cupholders it had. And the color. Can’t forget the fucking color. Ruby red. Of fucking course. She calls it her signature color but only wears it on her lips and a bit in her hair. Otherwise, she’s in black leather or dark colors.
Hell, just last week, it was her goal in life to find a job. Can we say nightmare much? I’m all for her earning money and getting experiences, but not at the cost of my social life. If she has a job, I’ll have to be vetting people on the regular. Now, I only do it when each semester starts and I see who’s in her classes. A job has randoms coming in from all directions. No way can I do a scan of them in less time than it would be for them to take her out. I would have to be stationed closer, and I refuse to live on campus or be that far from the club. I could hire someone to watch her, and I might still, but not yet. I was able to convince Law to talk her out of it, claiming her need to study shouldn’t take a back seat to putting a few extra dollars in her wallet. It worked. Well, theyfought and shit, but it saved me from looking at a second place to rest my head at night.
“Her landlord keeps upcharging her, claiming damages inside the apartment. But that would mean he’s getting inside her place without her permission. You’ve got cameras in there. You see anyone coming in or out who shouldn’t be in there?”
“Other than the slew of boy toys?” I dangle that in front of him, and he closes his eyes and runs his hands down his face.
“Don’t want to hear that shit.”
I let him freak out a second longer before I shake my head. “Nah. No one but her and the roommate. I’ll take another look, though. What do you want me to do when I’m done wasting an hour of my time?”
He opens his eyes and levels me with a glare. “Take care of it.”
I nod once, and then I’m out the door. Back to more bullshit.
The brothers know the drill, and not a single one stands in my way as I walk to my bike. I don’t need to check the feed; I already know I’ll find nothing. Instead, I head to the problem itself. And in less than two hours, ’cause I’m pissed I have to do this at all, I’m banging down the door of the landlord.
Yeah, I know where he lives. Ran his background the second the girls wanted the place he put up for rent online. I keep notes on most things in a file I can access on my computer and phone, so pulling up his address was easier than switching lanes on a busy highway.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” The growling on the other side of the door might intimidate others. Hell, anyone but me or any Hound, really.
As the guy opens the door, I note that he looks the same as the last time we had a chat. Except that was at his “leasing office.” It was a damn coffee shop, but whatever gets the guy off. He played football in college, and luckily for him, he still has the bulk thirty years later. Too bad he never had the brains. The comb-over look isn’t working for him much, especially with the handful of hairs left to use to cover up his bald-ass head. The second his faded blue eyes catch a look at my face and then the patches on my vest, he pales, and I smile.
“Shit,” he says and then turns and runs, trying to slam the door in my face.
I keep it from shutting with my boot in the door, pissed at the small bit of pain it causes. My shitkickers are heavy-duty as shit and weigh a ton since they’re supposed to protect my toes and foot in general from an accident on the bike. Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel things when the instep gets smashed.
I slam the door open and absently note that I ripped a part of it off the hinges as I hunt down my prey. I don’t do the talking-taunting thing that most Hounds do when they go hunting. Why? You just tell your prey where you’re at with your voice. I prefer the silent, deadly approach.
The guy, Gerry Wallace, is truly an idiot. His home, unlike the girls’, is two stories. It’s a long floor plan with a straight shot from the front door to the back, but instead of going out, he heads up the stairs. I give chase and round thetop steps, moving to the left just in time to prevent getting shot.
