“What’s wrong?” Maisie asked.
“We’ve got a tail.”
“Bloody hell,” she bit out. “What do you want me to do?”
“Call Flea and see who’s close. I’m going to give them a little wild goose chase.”
While Maisie called my Sergeant, I turned toward Battle Ground, leading the car away from the compound. It continued to follow me, which wasn’t good. Maisie gave Flea all of the car’s information, including color, make, plates, and a basic description of the driver… at least what she could get without turning around to look. We didn’t want to spook the asshole, but I was pretty sure he knew he’d been made.
When I pulled down the dirt road leading to one of our grow houses, I passed a van hidden on my left and a dark sedan hidden on my right. I hit the button to open the gates in front of me and the second I was through, the car (stupidly) followed, as did my brothers.
The gates closed behind us, and I slid my gun out of my holster, sliding out of my truck. “Hunker down, Sunshine. Donotget out until I come for you,” I ordered.
“If you get shot, I will maim you,” she said,as she slid to the floorboard.
“Noted.” I slammed the truck door and made my way to the car.
Train already had the driver out and down on the ground. The kid was young, and he was wearing a Spiders’ Prospect cut that was at least two sizes too big for him with no name badge on it.
“Jesus, he’s a child.” I sighed, sliding my gun back into my holster. I stood over him. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Fuck you,” he spat out, and Train shoved his boot harder into his back. It’s not like he could go anywhere. Train had his hands and feet zip-tied, and then he’d hogtied him for double protection.
“Your name’s fuck you?” I narrowed my eyes. “What is that, French?”
Booker held the driver’s phone up to his face to unlock it and grinned. “Well, lookie here. Such a wealth of information.”
“You picked the wrong club, little man,” Train spat out, training his gun at his head.
“I thinkyoupicked the wrong club, mother fucker.”
I had to give it to him, he had fight.
“Big words for such a tiny little boy,” Booker hissed.
“What do you want us to do with him, Prez?” Rooster asked. “I vote we get rid of him.”
“Don’t you dare hurt that boy,” Maisie hissedas she rushed toward us.
“I told you to stay in the truck,” I growled.
“Let him up, Train,” Maisie ordered, and Train looked at me not sure what to do.
I scowled at my wife, and my tone was one of irritation as I bit out, “Maisie.”
She scowled right back. “Connor.”
With a reluctant grunt, I gave Train a nod and he helped the kid up off the ground, keeping his beefy hand wrapped around his arm.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked.
“None of your fuckin’ business.”
“Wrong answer,” Train growled, squeezing his arm, eliciting a quiet squeal from the boy.
“Be gentle, love,” Maisie said, stepping closer to him.
I took her arm gently and pulled her back. “I swear to Christ, woman, stop moving.”
