His eyes fix on me the moment Gears, the Road Captain closes the door behind him. “These fuckers are in our city,” he grates out, clear irritation in his tone.
“I know.”
“We’re too exposed.” He sighs grabbing his lighter and flicks the lid lighting it. I watch as he closes the lid and then repeats the actions several more times.
“Brother?” I query.
“I know you’ve only just got here, and you’re still getting the lay of the land, but I need you to do your thing.”
I snort out a laugh. My thing as he likes to call it, is just the fact that I’m good at reading people. I can usually tell from prettyearly on what type of person someone is going to be. But I need more than what I’ve had to get a decent enough read.
“I need more than a couple of drunken encounters to be able to give you the answers you need brother.”
“How much more?”
“You want me to help you change the entire dynamics of the club, you want me to help you put the right people on the committee. I need more. And I need a clear head when I do it.” I shake my head. “Give me the list of people you want me to focus on, I’ll make sure to spend time with them over the next week. I’ll have you a few names by the time the funeral rolls around.”
He gives me a relieved smile and slaps me on the back as we both head out in the main room. I knew I was I was going to be checking out the brothers, but I didn’t think I was going to have to be checking out so many in such a short space of time.
These next few days are going to be fucking intense.
Chapter
Eighteen
It’s only been a little over a week since I was in Newcastle, but I find my thoughts drifting back to the night I spent with Wrath more times than I’d like to admit. I’ve had a total of three boyfriends in my life and only slept with two of them, but that night I spent with him is one I’ll never forget. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but that night was only the second time I’ve had an orgasm.
My body tingles with desire every time that I think about it.
“So what time is the deadline for us to have the images across for approval for the morning edition?”
My face flushes with embarrassment, when I realise the new guy, Andrew is still sat beside me as I edit the photos we took outside the courtroom this afternoon.
It was the trial of a local guy Peter Nelson a twenty-three-year-old scumbag who likes to break into the homes of the elderly, where he terrorises them for hours, pushing them to hand over anything that may be of any value.
He assaults them, telling them he’ll be back if they tell anyone before leaving them too afraid to even call anyone to ask for help. He thought they would all be too scared to say anything, but his last victim had fought so hard that he had ended up inhospital. And once he came forward naming Peter, another six victims came forward, all giving similar statements.
And when some of their neighbours came forward claiming to have seen Peter leaving the victims houses at the time of the incidents, everyone thought it would be an easy win. Only it wasn’t.
Turns out Peter knows some pretty rich people, who are believed to have the right kind of influence over the right kind of people. There was uproar in the courtroom when the judge ruled that the victims had been coerced into giving the statements and they all exhibited some signs of possible dementia and Alzheimer’s, with that he ruled that Peter was innocent, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I save the last few edits I’ve made and then turn to Andrew. “Ok, so you need to decide which of these images you’re going to send over for approval. You need to send in four options. The images belong to the paper, so always apply the newspapers watermark before sending it over, one they agree and approve an image they’ll remove the watermark at their end before sending it print.”
He watches me with intent, his eyes flicking between me and the screen. I smile and place my hand on his arm. “Breathe Andrew. We still have two weeks left before I leave. We’ll go over all of your notes before I officially hand over to you and if I think you’ve missed anything then I’ll make sure to write it down for you. Now, the only thing you need to worry about right now, is which four images you want to send across.”
He looks at the screen then swallows the lump he has in his throat before looking back over to me. “How do I decide? What if I pick the wrong image?”
I pull up ten images on the screen, all the ones that he took.
“These are your images; you can’t go wrong. Pick the ones that capture the subject clearly. The image they choose will bethe one they believe best fits the article. Don’t over think it, these are your images. You choose to take those shots at those particular moments. We still have thirty minutes before we have to submit. I’m gonna go pack up my things while you mull them over, when you’ve decided, attach them to the email and hit send.” I shake my head when I see a sliver a fear in his eyes. “Andrew, trust yourself.” I knock on the table twice then stand and head back over to my desk to clear away my equipment, giving him the space, he needs to make his choice.
Almost an hour later and the main floor is almost clear of staff. All pieces have been approved and only the editors remain to check the final print. As this was Andrew’s first official piece a few of us are heading over to the pub to celebrate.
I’m the last out the door, my head practically in my bag checking that I have my phone and house keys, when the sound of my name, has me coming to a dead stop. I look up unable to hide the surprise on my face, standing not four feet in front of me is Knuckles and Brick from the Soulless Knights. My eyes instinctively look around to see who else is with them.
“He’s not with us, Flex,” Knuckles calls out.
I school my features as I feel a wave of disappointment wash over me.
