"Make sure she’s seen," Razor reminded Hemlock as they hit the door. "We don’t need any questions later."
Razor watched from inside as Hemlock and Lottie rode off. Once they were gone he stepped out and climbed the steps.
His move was calculated, precise. He knew that in situations like this, perception was everything. If anyone questioned Lottie’s whereabouts, the clubhouse would be the perfect place to point to…loud, populated, and bustling with activity, a far cry from the scene of the crime. No one would even think to look for her anywhere else.
* * *
Hemlock had taken them through the downtown area where lots of people could notice the bike traveling in the area, careful not to make it look too obvious, just a casual ride like any other.
The moment they pulled into the clubhouse parking lot, he backed into an open spot near the front door and shut the bike down. He nodded for Lottie to climb off and felt her handon his shoulder as she slid off the bike with an air of casual indifference.
Climbing off the bike, Hemlock kept his face covered as he helped Lottie with her helmet. Glancing around he got the all clear from the prospects and pulled his helmet off.
Wrapping his arm around Lottie’s shoulders he looked down at her, making sure she was holding up. It was a façade and everyone knew there part. He could tell she was holding herself tight. The way she kept her head up and smile in place no one would ever know what had just happened back at her apartment. Hemlock smirked behind the mask. Lottie was heading straight for the front door of the clubhouse with all the grace of someone who belonged.
He saw her flash a confident smile as they passed the prospects…there was no hint of nervousness in the way she reached in to hug both men as if it was something she’d done a hundred times.
The prospects welcomed her like a sister, not that it was necessary. She had the sort of face people remembered, that would make it easy for people to recall her being there at the party.
Now, all Hemlock had to do was get her inside and hand her off to Sway and Vicious. Glancing around, he made a quick check of the parking lot before they stepped through the door.
Dropping his arm from Lottie’s shoulder, he pulled off his face covering, and stuffed it into his cut. Turning to face her, “You good?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yes. Now, what?”
“We go into the party and find Sway and Vicious.” He needed to pass her off so he could tend to other things. Things that required a bit more finesse. He needed to get with Sherlock to create the disappearance of Shannon. But for now, the alibi was already solid, the plan was in motion, and Lottie was well on her way to being above suspicion.
His phone rang, Hemlock answered hearing Razor’s voice, “Jobs done. All the moving parts on our part have been dealt with. How’s it look on your end?" Razor asked.
"All set," Hemlock responded. "She’s where she needs to be. I’m about to hand her off to Sway."
"Good. We’re almost done."
“Just finish up and get here,” Hemlock said and hung up so he could finish his job, then tonight would go off without a hitch. It had to.
Razor put his phone away as he watched as Truck backed the van into position.
Walking inside with Truck, Razor moved with a steady, practiced efficiency. The bloodstained rug lay there, a grim reminder of what had just happened. He crouched down beside it, his gloved hands pulling the fabric tight around the body. The stains were still fresh, the dark splotches soaking into the fibers. It didn’t matter, once it was wrapped, it would be far less likely to draw attention. Easier to move. Easier to dispose of.
He glanced over at Truck, and knelt down to help roll the rug up. They had to take it downstairs and put it in the van before they cleaned the room.
"Should’ve known this bitch was gonna go off the rails,” Razor muttered under his breath, his voice low but edged with annoyance.
Truck didn’t respond immediately. He knew how Razor felt about things going sideways, even if just a little. "Focus," Truck said finally, his voice sharp. "We get this wrapped, and then we finish the cleanup. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we’re back at the clubhouse.”
Razor grunted, securing the last fold of the rug around the body. Once it was tightly wrapped, it looked almost like any other discarded rug. His hands were steady, but his mind was racing, ticking off the next steps that needed to be handled.
"Alright, let’s move it," Truck said, his voice flat as he stood up. "It’ll take both of us to carry it down to the van.”
Razor nodded, and they picked up the heavy bundle and headed towards the steps. Outside felt strangely empty, quiet in the way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Like something was just waiting to go wrong.
As they reached the bottom of the steps, Truck climbed in, helping Razor carefully load the body into the cargo space, making sure they laid it on the tarp and covered it and bound it to avoid it coming unbound.
"That’s it," Truck said as they shut the van's doors. "Next stop, the home.”
"Yeah," Razor replied, pulling off the latex gloves and shoving them into a small trash bag they needed to burn. Wiping his hands on his pants, he moved back towards the steps. "Let’s finish upstairs, then we can get going." Turning from Truck, he headed back upstairs.
Chapter Forty-One
