We’re halfway there when Stryker finally speaks.
“At my fight last night, got talking to one of the other fighters. He was pissed because he found out his opponent threw the match for some guy betting on the fight.”
“That’s fucked up,” I shake my head.
Not because I don’t believe him, but because throwing a fight is a bullshit move. Stryker takes it seriously and cheating doesn’t sit right with him. From the sound of it, the other guy didn’t appreciate it either, even though he won because of it.
“This what you need to talk to me about, you want to do something about the betting situation?”
“No, I’ve got that shit handled. It’s what he overheard about who wanted him to take the deal. And who came to him and made it.”
We come to a set of lights and Stryker slows to a stop.
“It took everything I had not to go find him and rip his head off. It’s not my place to make that choice without your say so.”
The clinic is across the intersection. Jesse’s car is sitting in the lot waiting for me to pick it up. He looks over toward the clinic too, I had to tell him the destination given he was driving.
This isn’t the place to hear what Stryker has to say. I need to hear it, regardless.
“Who?” I ask, my jaw clenched as I stare through the windshield.
“Chains.”
For half a second, I consider putting a fist through the glove compartment, but I reign myself in and don’t take my eyes off Jesse’s clinic.
“And the person he is working for?”
“Storm.”
For a man of so few words, everything he said is pretty fucking impactful. Storm is an ex-Disciple who was stripped of his patch. There is a whole lot of history there but he’s remained quiet this long, I figured there was no animosity.
Now it’s all starting to make sense. And I didn’t even need Ray Dutton to get me there.
“What do you want me to do?” Stryker asks. The light turns green.
“Pull into the lot,” I say, jaw tight. “You told anyone else?”
Stryker shakes his head as he turns into the lot as I asked.
“Keep it that way. For now.”
He nods, not happy, but he’ll do as he’s told. There are many reasons why this pisses him off and I’m glad to see he feels that way, and has brought this to me. His loyalty is to the patch, not blood.
“And my cousin?” He turns to me as he pulls the car to a stop. His eyes are flashing dangerously. It’s the way he looks right before he enters the ring. Like he’s ready to tear his opponent apart.
“I’ll figure that out.”
Stryker nods. He’s done with talking. Fuck. One of our own is working with an ex-member. And I’m not sure how deep it runs.
I get out of the car but keep the door open as I slip off my cut. Stryker’s eyes widen. That is more animated than he was during his confession his family member may be a rat. He watches me fold it and set it on the seat.
“Take that to my house, leave it with Jesse.”
Another head nod, his Adam apple bobs as he swallows. It should be funny, that me taking off my cut affects him so badly. But I see something else in the way he’s looking at me. Honor. That I’m trusting him with this. Stryker knows having a family member screw over the club could see his standing tarnished. Me doing this, gives him validation of his place.
It’s all so fucking messed up. I feel naked as hell without it as Stryker drives away to carry out my order. I fire a text to Jesse letting him know something is being dropped off, then look up at the clinic.
My eyes are immediately drawn to the woman standing by the entrance. She is sweeping her hair away from her neck, her face momentarily tipped towards the sunlight. No longer in her scrubs, she’s changed into a pair of tight, high-waisted jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt which is tucked in at the waist.
