I drop down into the roller chair next to Cyber. “Something like that. How can I help?”
He smiles at me, his dimples showing. “Now that we have an address, we can search for the deed, and then we follow the money.”
I smile back, cracking my knuckles. “We follow the money.”
This is what I’m good at. This is where I can make a difference. I may not understand the complicated mess that is my relationship with Bane, but I understand code. I understand digital footprints and paper trails.
And right now, there’s a girl out there who needs my help.
Chapter Twelve
Bane
Cutting the motor, the engine tinks and ticks as I pull off my brain bucket and climb off.
The warehouse raid was a fucking bust. No Heather, no leads, no nothing but a fat waste of fucking time. The building was completely empty except for some old mattresses.
And now I’ve got to face Frankie. Christ. I’m not used to explaining myself to anyone.
“What’s eating you?” Tacoma asks, walking up beside me and lighting a cigarette.
I sigh, running a hand over my face. “How do you do it?”
His brow furrows. “Gonna have to be a little more specific, little brother.”
“How do you make Foxy understand that you can’t tell her club business?”
My brother takes a long toke off the Red in his hand, then exhales smoke through his nose. “She grew up in the life. Her Grandfather, her father, and her brother are all Saints. Not sure our situations are the same.”
I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. This is all so fucking complicated. Frankie isn’t like my Ma or Foxy. She doesn’t understand how shit works. She has to fucking trust me to do what’s best.
“You claiming her?” My brother cocks his head to the side, studying me carefully.
Grunting, I hold his stare. Frankie’s mine.
He nods in understanding, then asks, “You tell her about her father yet?”
My stomach drops. Fuck. That’s the last thing I want to think about. How the hell do I tell Frankie that the Sinners killed her old man at The Pretty Kitties, and we covered it up to protect our own asses? That we let her believe he ran off with his secretary because it kept people from asking questions?
“Not yet,” I finally answer.
“Bit of advice?”
I lift my head, waiting.
“The truth has a way of coming out, so you might want to tell her before she finds out some other way.”
“Yeah.” I don’t have a fucking clue how I’m going to have that conversation, but he’s right. It’s gonna come out eventually, and it’ll be a thousand times worse if she hears it from someone else.
Tacoma pats me on the shoulder. “Grab your woman. Let’s all go to Eagle’s Bar and blow off some steam.”
Maybe that’s a good idea. A few beers, some music, get Frankie out of her head for a while. “Yeah, alright.”
We head inside the clubhouse, but as I scan the room, I don’t see the troublemaker anywhere. My heart rate ticks up immediately.
“Where’s Frankie?” I ask, looking between Foxy and my mother, who are sitting at the bar.
They exchange a look. “We thought she was with you,” my mom says, her brow furrowed.
