I open the door to my room and step inside as I hear the sounds change on the other end of the call, telling me they’ve entered the hotel lobby.
“There they are,” I hear Ice say.
“I’ve got them,” Chrome replies.
The only sound on the other end is the ambient noise of the hotel lobby.
“Didn’t expect visitors from Adelaide,” Chrome says. Neutral. Not friendly. Not hostile. Just a fact. “Especially not in my city.”
Menace doesn’t rush his reply. I can hear movement on his end—boots, hands slapping together. “Chicago’s a big place. Easy to wander into if you’re crossing oceans.”
“Chicago’s my place,” Chrome says. “And you didn’t wander. You rode straight in with colors showing.”
A low chuckle. “Didn’t want there to be misunderstandings.”
Ice cuts in, his voice sharp in the background. “Showing up in another president’s territory without notice is one way to cause one.”
Chrome lifts a hand—I hear the faint rustle. “Easy.”
Menace exhales through his nose. “We’re not here for you, Chrome. Or your club.”
“Then you won’t mind explaining why you’re here,” Chrome replies.
Another pause. Longer this time. “We’re looking for a friend.”
That word lands wrong. My jaw tightens.
“A friend? If they’re a friend, why are they hiding?” Chrome asks.
“Not hiding. They just don’t know we’re here. This friend disappeared when we were otherwise engaged. They didn’t even say goodbye.”
Piston mutters something I can’t quite catch. Arson laughs once, short and humorless.
Chrome’s voice hardens a degree. “You’ve come a long way to get a simple goodbye. Seems like a phone call would have been enough.”
“Not in this case. This person owes us. They left the country after making a mess of things. They took something that belonged to us. We’re simply here to collect.”
Silence stretches. My pulse thumps loud enough that I’m sure they can hear it through the phone.
Chrome finally speaks. “Sounds like Bushranger business.”
“It was,” Menace agrees. “Until it crossed borders.”
“And now you’re standing in my backyard,” Chrome says. “Looking for someone who probably doesn’t want to be found. Maybe it would be better if you cut your losses and moved on.”
Menace’s tone sharpens. “That’s where we disagree.”
I hear another voice—Jinx, maybe—murmuring too low to make out. Hound clears his throat.
Chrome doesn’t rise to it. “You want permission to hunt in Chicago?”
“I want cooperation,” Menace says. “We don’t plan to bleed your streets. But we aren’t leaving without what we came for.”
“You’re saying someone at this hotel has something of yours?”
“They have a debt to pay,” Menace growls.
“What debt?” Ice asks.
