“Well, then, this meeting is—”
“Lane,” Axle said. “Last night? That’s what we wanted to see.”
I gently let my right hand move away from the gavel.
“It was good shit, brother. Your shoulder will heal. You need to work on not being such a dumbass in shootouts. But we can get behind a President who puts himself in the line of fire.”
I let myself smile. I didn’t think it mattered that I was willing to show a little bit of emotion.
“Appreciate it,” I said, before going for the gavel once more and slamming it. “We’ll meet in two days to discuss ambush ideas.”
The various officers slowly rose. As usual, Patriot hung at the back, and we waited until the other four officers had walked out and shut the door behind them.
“Told you things would be fine,” Patriot said with a smile.
“It’s early,” I said with a shrug, a shrug I regretted as the pain went through my arm. “But I appreciate it. We’ll see how things go if shit hits the fan.”
“I mean, you’re not going to be perfect, man, but if you’re putting yourself there, you’re doing much better.”
I shrugged only my good shoulder and nodded.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Where did you go last night, by the way?”
“Brewskis,” I said.
“After a shootout? That’s ballsy,” Patriot said with an amused expression.
“Yeah, and where else am I going to get a drink late at night on a weekday in this town?”
He had no response to that. Maybe it was a bit ballsy, but I kind of liked living on edge as I had there.Though bring a friend next time. Or make sure Angela will be there.
“So, this ambush idea, you really think it’s going to work?”
I bit my lip. As badly as I wanted to tell Patriot I suspected one of the officers was a traitor, I could not rule him out. As painful and horrible as that was, until I really dug into the situation and unearthed the rat, I had to consider that any of the other five men could have been the rat for the Fallen Saints.
“I guess we’ll see,” I said. “I’ve been working the new girl in the DA’s office to put pressure on the Fallen Saints, but—”
“I thought she hated your guts?”
I smirked. I reached into my pocket, placed the napkin on my lap, and looked at the number there.
“Not as much as she used to,” I said. “In fact... ”
* * *
Just around sunset, with most of Los Angeles having gone back home for evening drinks and dinner, I sat back at Brewskis, waiting for the arrival of the woman I had texted shortly after Patriot left. No one in the club had any idea that I had even met her last night, let alone that I had texted her to come out tonight.
Let alone that she had agreed with a smiley face.
Granted, such a gesture might have been common for her to do. She seemed like a generally nice and happy person, albeit one with the same serious mission as me. She seemed like the kind of person who might have sent a lot of her texts with emojis. Heaven knows I didn’t—even with Shannon, I think I might have sent such an emoji twice in the entire time we dated.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if that text might have meant something.
In any case, when I saw Angela walk up, I reminded myself of why I had asked her to come. It was not to flirt with her. It was not to implicate myself. It was to give her more details about what I knew with the Saints and my brother in the hopes that she could apply some more pressure on them. Our ambush was going to work, but if we could put even more weight on her shoulders, that would be even better. I wanted them to suffocate from all angles, if possible.
I remained in my seat at the bar, and she sat right next to me. I couldn’t tell if she had wanted to hug me when she first walked up, but in any case, it was probably for the best that that not happen.
