The sky is blue and cloudless, and there isn’t the usual rumble of motorcycles filling the air. It’s peaceful and strange. It shouldn’t be thisnicewith what is going on.
Across the street, the door to the church opens, and Patrick steps out carrying a large toolbox and uses his foot to keep the door open. Kinsley follows, holding a mixing bucket, the kind construction workers use.
I finish the cigarette but don’t move, watching as the two of them set things up, Patrick mixes some kind of filler and Kinsley uses a handheld power tool to sand the wall. They talk little as they work, but Patrick is the silent type.
Kinsley is very adept at wielding power tools, her hips move side to side as she works, the fitted combat-style pants nice and tight around her ass.
Someone steps up beside me, disturbing my peaceful perusal of a very sexy Kinsley at work. Nero looks over at the church.
“Repair work?” he asks.
“She’s an artist.”
“An artist doing construction work?”
“She’s prepping the wall.” I frown, wondering why I’m sharing this information, or even care. “Raven said she is painting a mural or some shit.”
“Who is she?”
“Related to the priest, a cousin I think. Raven vouched for her. She was in the bar last night, hanging out with those chicks Raven is always with.”
“Those chicks,” Nero smirks. “Was she the one who got all up in some guy’s face?”
“Do you evernotknow everything?” I take out another cigarette and put it in my mouth, but don’t light it. “Must be fucking exhausting.”
We’re not discussing my sister’s best friend. I was drunk, it happened once, not my fault she got attached and kept showing up. I still catch her staring sometimes.
“He was a prick. I handled it.”
Nero nods and drinks his coffee. We watch for a little longer, both enjoying the reprieve. Kinsley is so focused on what she is doing she doesn’t turn away from her task. I think if the roles were reversed, I’d feel the eyes on me, but I’m built different.
“We’ve got somewhere with Kivisto’s phone.”
That makes me stop looking at the hot, infuriating woman across the street.
“Everything went to plan. Lily distracted him and cloned his phone.”
“Anything?”
“Not yet, but any messages or calls come through, we’ll see them.”
“What about Wallen?” I ask.
“Ronin went down to Romney to keep an eye on him. He’s been watching Kivisto’s house. Nothing strange so far. The wife doesn’t leave, spends a lot of time in the garden reading and walking.”
“Walking in her own garden?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Nero looks troubled.
It sounds like someone who isn’t allowed to do their own thing. Fucking mafia guys think they own women once they marry them. Not our problem, and Nero should forget about her.
“Are you sure this is the right way to go? Stryker and Fury could get the little shit to talk.”
He gives me a look that says we’re not discussing that again.
“All we’ve done is grab people who’ve helped Storm and beat the shit out of them,” he relents. “What have we got for it? A lot of nothing or missed chances. And he keeps coming back at us.” His jaw is tight as he corrects himself. “At people associated with us.”
After a moment of silence, I address what no one else wants to. “How is Sheridan?”
