Moments later Vin stormed out of the office and headed after Lex, who by now was over Skate’s shoulder throwing a fucking fit.
“All right, all right, calm the fuck down, Lex!” he yelled, arguing with her over Skate’s shoulder. She was hanging upside down, her long auburn hair hanging down in soft waves, partially covering her furious face. “Babe, I don’t have time for this today!”
As if on cue, Cosmo—Vin and Lexi’s German shepherd—came running down the corridor, stopping in front of the Semi’s door and howling along to Ann-Marie’s screams.
The room froze and everyone stopped laughing and arguing as Cosmo and Ann-Marie chorused out a song together. Vin dragged a hand down his face and shook his head, and I looked over at Crank, trying to not split my sides as I held in my laughter.
Ann-Marie fell quiet and Cosmo stopped howling, standing up and wagging his tail. The door opened and Semi came out, a cigarette between his lips. He took two steps, ruffling the top of Cosmo’s head, oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded.
He took a couple more steps before looking up, seeing Lex over Skate’s shoulder and Vin staring furiously at him.
“Hey, Prez, everything okay?” he asked sheepishly.
Lex glared at him, her gaze flitting to Vin and back to Semi again.
“My office, now, Semi!” Vin bellowed, and stormed back to his office.
Semi followed him, passing the breakfast table and high-fiving Mason as he passed him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.
“He’s my fucking hero,” Mason laughed.
“He’s a fucking dead man if Sara finds out,” Crank replied.
~ 5 ~
That day, like most days in that town, was hot. The heat burned through my black leather vest like it was a sun magnet, and I could feel sweat trickling uncomfortably down my spine.
Semi was driving the truck, Crank was in the back of it with a shotgun in case shit went south, and Skate was riding about two miles ahead of us, ready to warn us of any trouble he spotted. I was hanging at the back about half a mile behind.
We were riding down I-94, heading for the Yellowstone River Inn, where we were meeting with our collector. We were on time, but that wasn’t good enough for any of us, since it was always best to be early so we had time to scope out the situation. Especially with ATF on our asses.
Twenty minutes later we pulled into the parking lot and Semi drove the truck around to the side of the building. The parking lot was busy—busier than I was expecting it to be. I slowed my bike and duckwalked it back into a space, pulling off my oven of a helmet and wiping the sweat away from my face. I kept the engine running as I hung my helmet and took a look around me.
“Thank fuck for that,” I muttered to myself, dragging my hair back from my face.
I looked over the low-level white building, checking every window for anything that didn’t look right. Despite the parking lot being full, the area was quiet. Too quiet for my liking. Something about the whole thing didn’t sit well with me, and I pulled out my cell to call Skate and let him know what I thought. He picked up on the first ring, like he’d had it in his hand, waiting for me to call.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not liking this,” I replied, my eyebrows pulling in. “Something feels off to me.”
“Yeah, something ain’t right,” he agreed, his voice distant.
“What do you wanna do? It’s your call, brother.”
“I’ll call Vin now, see how he wants to play it. It’s a lot of fucking cash to be walking away from if we’re wrong.”
“I hear you. But it’s a long fucking time to go down for if this is a play.”
“Yeah, agreed. Listen, Sketch, if shit goes bad, you get yourself back to the clubhouse.” Skate hung up without waiting for my reply, and I called Crank immediately, deciding he should know if something wasn’t right since he was stuck in the back of the damned truck. He took a little longer to answer, and each ring felt like another nail in the coffin.
My gaze moved from the building to the parked vehicles. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet everything seemed out of place. There was no noise, no screaming kids, no engines turning over, no women calling their husbands. Nothing but deathly silence filled the calm, hot afternoon air, like it was waiting for something, paused with bated breath for us to fall into the trap. As the seconds ticked by I was liking this shit less and less.
The throbbing in my chest wasn’t making me feel any better either. Always listened to my instincts, and that day was no different. Right then, my instincts were telling me to get us all the hell out of there.
Crank finally picked up. “What?”
“You fucking napping in there?” I snapped at him, and he chuckled. “Something smells bad, brother,” I said, and his chuckle died.
