Karma Police
WearriveatThePrecinct, and the twisting in my stomach intensifies. The car ride over here was eerily quiet, with the boys sharing looks I didn’t understand or like. For once, I was allowed the back seat to myself, and that in itself was strange. No Cruz making jokes or teasing me with feather-light touches that he knows drive me wild. I had way too much time to think, and that’s not good for anyone when the tension was so thick between them.
Cruz tugs me closer to his side as we walk through the bar, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist. The patrons watch me like hawks with their steely gazes. “I still can’t see why we couldn’t have left Daisy to have her massage at the day spa while we sorted this shit out. She shouldn’t be in this place.”
Jagger casts a stern look in our direction. “The only people I trust to watch over her are in this building. That’s why, genius,” he grumbles as he shoves open the door to his office. Even he seems crankier than usual.
We follow him in to find Asher standing behind another man, who is quickly typing away at Jagger’s computer. “What’s she doing here?” Asher says, his usual flirty welcome for me nowhere to be seen. His face also doesn’t hide his concern, and his voice is panicked.
“Nice to see you too, Ash,” I grumble, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. With all the tension in the air, I don’t want to be here any more than they want me here.
He moves toward me, a small smile breaking onto his lips as he takes my hand and pulls me into him for a quick kiss. “Always happy to see you, princess, just not ideal circumstances.”
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask, finding my voice, looking between them.
“What room is he in?” Jagger asks the guy behind the computer, ignoring my question.
The guy looks up, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Next door. Thought you all might want to hear what he has to say.” His assessing eyes lock with mine as he says the last part. He’s a nice-looking man, dark hair and kind eyes, and holds a very obvious family resemblance to the other Stryker brothers, and I have to assume since no one has introduced us yet, this is the fourth brother, their tech whiz Mal.
“Daisy can stay with you two while Cruz and I deal with him,” Jagger orders, almost shoving me into Asher’s arms and out of Cruz’s tight grip on me. It earns him a death glare from Cruz, but he doesn’targue with the boss’s orders. “Catch her up to speed, Mal,” he throws over his shoulder, then he’s out the door.
Cruz gives me a final glance before following him, and it’s a look of apology that sends a chill through me. The door closes with a click, and I stare up at Asher, wondering what in the world is going on. “Ash, I’m supposed to be face down on a massage table right about now, so there better be a good reason you lot have me in this place instead.”
“Saving your life good enough for you?” The man behind the computer shakes his head, his words a little bitter. “I can see why you lot call her princess,” he grumbles then casts his glance back at the screen in front of him, clicking around on the keyboard as he focuses in on the screen.
“Saving my life?” I whisper, trying not to let the way my heart is now racing show on my face. I’m sure he’s just being dramatic. Right?
He looks up at me again and crooks his finger, signaling for me to come and look at the computer. “I’m Mal, by the way, since my brothers are too rude to have thought to introduce us,” he mutters in Asher’s direction.
Asher runs an uncomfortable hand through his hair, tugging the ends. It’s then I notice the small damp splatters of something that looks a lot like blood on his crisp black button-up, and the damage on his knuckles like he’s been in some sort of fistfight. “Ha, yeah, Malachi is the fourth brother. Sorry, guys, had other shit on my mind. I forgot you haven’t met.”
“Hi,” I mutter, as I move around behind the computer, now too distracted for pleasantries. Asher is all messed up, and now that I look closer, so is his brother. What on earth have I walked into here today? Mal has four screens open on his computer. They all look like stills from video surveillance. “What am I looking at?” I snip back, not impressed by his attitude toward me.
“The man who was following you and Jagger last week.” He points to the screen. “Jagger had me track him down. I have been tailing him ever since. He wasn’t just some random. He knew what he was doing and has been constantly stalking you since.”
Goosebumps scatter their way over my arms. “What—how do you know?” I look closer at the computer screen and see a man with a distinct snake tattoo running up his arm. There is an image of him on his bike when he was tailing us, then another of him without his helmet on, talking on a payphone. “I don’t recognize him,” I whisper, wondering how some guy could have been following me around and I didn’t even see him.
“He’s a serpent,” Asher interjects, his voice dripping with venom.
I blink back at him. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Mal sighs heavily, as if he’s frustrated. “From a local gang. The Strykers and the Serpents have had beef for years. Mostly shit Enzo Moretti caused when he was still alive. We had it dealt with. They knew not to come into our town and cause shit, and that was working until a little more recently.”
I don’t like the sound of it, but I still don’t understand how they saved my life by bringing me here today to look at some surveillance. “Why is he following me?”
“I’ll let you listen to the call.” Mal types something into the computer, and it brings up an audio-type slider.
Asher squeezes my hand in his, his grip firm but comforting. “Maybe we should just give her the general idea. She doesn’t need to hear it word for word.”
Mal looks over his shoulder at his brother, his eyes narrowing, his face deadly serious in a way that makes him look like Jagger. “Boss wants her to hear it, so she hears it.” Mal presses play, and a voice fills the room.
“They fucking got away,” a man says, his voice rough like he’s been smoking his entire life; it also has a jumpy edge to it.
“Then find them. You have one more week to bring her home or our deal is off,” comes a voice that sends a shiver down my spine.
“My papa,” I gasp out loud, feeling instantly sick.
Asher grips my hand tighter. I can almost feel the way he’s looking at me with pity in his eyes.
