"Told you he was skittish," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "That was definitely the kid I've been feeding. Been leaving food out for him for weeks now."
"And you didn't think to mention that we had a stray shifter camping on our property?" Butch's tone wasn't accusatory so much as tired. We'd been through this conversation before.
I shrugged. "Didn't seem worth bothering you about. Kid was just hungry."
Bear, still filling the doorway like a human mountain, grunted. "Not just hungry. Smart enough to catch that asshole trying to hack our system. Brave enough to take him down, too."
I nodded toward the window. "Speaking of which, what are we doing with our gift-wrapped thief?"
Butch's expression hardened. "Bear, take him to the basement. Get what information you can. I want to know who sent him and what exactly he was after."
Bear's smile wasn't pleasant. "With pleasure, boss." He turned and lumbered back down the hall, his heavy footsteps fading as he descended the stairs.
The basement wasn't a place anyone wanted to visit uninvited. We weren't monsters, but we weren't saints either.The club had enemies, and sometimes gathering intelligence required methods that wouldn't win us any humanitarian awards.
Butch walked around his desk and picked up the broken motorcycle statue that Liam had left there. It was a custom piece that Gearhead had made for him last Christmas—a silver replica of his first bike. The front wheel now lay detached beside it.
"Kid tried to pay for breaking it," I said, pointing to the sad little pile of coins and the half-eaten lollipop still sitting on the desk. "That's everything he had."
Butch's face softened slightly. "Jesus." He set the statue down carefully. "You thinking what I'm thinking about this timing?"
"You mean how someone tries to hack our system right when we're all supposed to be out on a run?" I asked. "Yeah, seems a bit convenient."
"Too convenient." Butch reached for the USB device I'd placed on his desk—the one Liam had taken from the intruder. "Someone's watching us. Knew our schedule. If it weren't for your stray lynx, they might have gotten whatever they were after."
I hadn't considered that angle. "You think someone's targeting us specifically?"
"Feels like it. First the issue Fang and his bastard kid, then that thing with Percy and that fox skulk, then the trouble with the Dough Boys last month, now this." He sighed heavily, the weight of leadership evident in the new lines around his eyes. "I want security doubled. No one goes anywhere alone for the next few days, not even to take a piss."
"You got it," I agreed. The club came first—always had, always would. We were family, and family protected each other.
Butch picked up the lollipop, turning it thoughtfully between his fingers. "This Liam kid. You said he's been around for months?"
"Since summer, I think. Started noticing food missing from the dumpster, then figured it was easier to just leave stuff out for him. Less mess that way." I didn't mention how watching the skinny kid devour the food I left had become something of a private ritual for me—how I'd started noticing his preferences, leaving more of what disappeared completely and less of what he seemed to avoid.
"And he just happened to be in the right place at the right time to stop our break-in?"
I considered this. "He seems to watch the place. Probably has for a while."
"Think he's connected to whoever sent our friend outside?"
That hadn't occurred to me. "Doesn't seem likely. Why catch the guy if they're working together?"
Butch nodded, seemingly satisfied with that logic. "See if you can learn more about him. If he's in a situation like Bug's, I'd like to help him."
The mention of Bug reminded me of how far the former street kid had come since Bear had found him. From living in alleys and abandoned buildings to being the Sergeant-at-Arms's mate and a valued member of our strange family.
Maybe Liam could find something similar here.
"Might be tough," I admitted. "Kid doesn't talk much. Wrote his name down, but that's about it. Seems almost mute."
"But he understands everything," Butch noted. "I saw his eyes. Nothing wrong with his intelligence."
"No," I agreed. "Nothing wrong there at all. Just scared, I think. And used to being alone."
Butch returned to his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. "Well, whatever his story, he did us a solid today. Make sure he gets whatever he wants if he comes back around."
"Already planned on it."
