Three
Women say we have trust issues. But here’s the thing, we put our most prized possession in a mouth full of teeth. If that doesn’t say trust, I don’t know what does.
—Weaver’s secret thoughts
Weaver
My phone rang, and I looked at it in my jeans pocket and contemplated not answering it.
The phone stopped ringing, then started right back up again.
“Fuckin’ answer it,” I heard my partner call out from the ground. “I’m going to take a piss!”
I sighed, pulled one glove off with my teeth, and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
Fuck, it was cold.
My fingers were so damn stiff that I could barely hit the answer button before placing it to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“Weaver,” Gentry said gruffly. “I need a favor.”
“Does it need to be right now?” I wondered.
Because I sure the fuck hoped not.
“No.” He hesitated. “But soon. Can you come by my place after you get off work?”
The fact that Gentry was asking this of me was making me nervous.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are you having issues with your power or something?”
I was a certified electrician as well as a lineman for the county co-op.
The only time people called me was when they needed their house rewired.
Well, that wasn’t fully true.
People called me all the time.
The club was a busy place, and there was always someone wanting to do something somewhere.
When I’d joined the Dixie Wardens MC, it’d been out of necessity.
Part of the new life Apollo had made up for me was that I was prospecting for a motorcycle club. According to the dossier I’d been handed upon arrival in Sawtooth, Montana, I’d graduated from the University of Wyoming. I’d become a lineman right out of college, and had become an electrician during my off hours for the hell of it.
The local motorcycle group—the Dixie Wardens MC—had vouched for us and given us a good cover story so we could assimilate easier.
There’d been seven total men that Apollo had broken out of prison, and it would’ve looked damned suspicious had all seven of us just shown up without a single ounce of backstory.
Apollo and the Dixie Wardens MC had given us that.
Staying in the club had been optional.
Every single one of us but Romeo had stayed in, and I’d just officially earned my patch only a month ago—but for real. It hadn’t been handed to us. We’d actually had to put in the work.
“Are you even listening to me right now?” Gentry sounded rough.
