I closed the door behind me and didn’t bother flipping the lock. If someone wanted to barge in on me, then they’d have to crash through first. That shit alone would wake anyone up out of a dead sleep. That sticky door was practically my alarm system in the place. I shed my coat and tossed it onto the kitchen counter as I passed by, making my way to the bedroom.
I needed a shower, and I needed it quickly.
“There we go, come to Daddy,” I said with a grunt.
The second my hand fell to the doorknob of the bathroom, however, my cell phone rang out in the kitchen. I placed my forehead against the door as I listened to Fangs’s ringtone fill the caverns of my practically-empty apartment. I mean, I didn’t have anything I didn’t need. I had a bed, and a couch. A television that sat on a T.V. tray and an Xbox that sat on the floor beneath it. A man didn’t need much, especially me.
I grew up with nothing, so it wasn’t like I needed much to survive.
The phone stopped ringing and I sighed. I waited to make sure he wouldn't call back. If he left a voice message and stopped there, then it wasn’t important. But if he called back?
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned as my phone rang again.
I strode back toward my cut and dug out my phone, and the second I picked it up Fangs only said two words.
“Church. Now,” he commanded.
So, I hung up the phone without a word spoken on my end and picked up my leather cut.
“Guess the shower’s gonna have to wait,” I murmured.
I tried not to think too much about Aria and the way her boss spoke with her. I already didn’t like the asshole, but I sure as hell hoped I hadn’t gotten her fired. She was nosy as hell and sexy as fuck, but she didn’t deserve to lose her job simply because she was doing her damn job.
I tried to push it all out of my mind on the bike ride toward the clubhouse.
“All right,” Fangs said as I pushed through the front door, “now that we’re all here, we need to run down what happened today and what we know about this investigation that the cops have open on us right now.”
I closed the door behind me. “As far as I can tell, they’re breathing down our necks for drugs they supposedly found in the club somewhere.”
“Which was planted. You know it was planted,” Angel said.
Fangs nodded. “Of course, we fucking know it was planted. And we damn sure know by who.”
Viper growled. “Bullet.”
Fangs pointed at him. “Maybe not Bullet, in general. But this smells a lot like the Devil’s Rage. They’re targeting us again, but do we have any idea why?”
Reaper folded his arms across his chest. “I heard from a friend of a friend that one of their strip joints got raided about a month ago.”
I furrowed my brow. “Raided? For what?”
Reaper chuckled. “Drugs.”
Fangs rolled his eyes. “Fan-fucking-tastic. They probably think we called for the raid or somehow tipped them off.”
Viper nodded. “So, what’s our next move?”
His question hung in the air before I cleared my throat. “Well, our lawyer was able to get Fangs and myself out of jail as well as get all charges they were hoping to charge dropped. The lawyer claimed that the cops had no proof that the coke was ours. No fingerprints. No DNA of any sort. Just a bag of drugs they found chilling in one of our back booths.”
Angel peered over at me. “So, no charges at all?”
Fangs shook his head. “None right now, anyway. We all know how those assholes are. They won’t stop until something sticks.”
Reaper pointed at me. “Don’t forget about the billionaire’s thugs, though. The police aren’t our only worry right now.”
I groaned. “They’re demanding cash, of all things.”
Fangs nodded. “And they’re probably going to want the head of whoever killed their client on a fucking spike.”
