Page 29 of Ruin

Or waiting in our own clubhouse to trap us.

Our guys had been through here last night, of course, and nothing had happened, but we’d gotten word to them not to stay—the place was a sure trap—and they’d scattered to the homes of friends and family to hide until I called them again.

In theory, the clubhouse was still empty, just waiting for us to come home.

The reality, I feared, was something much worse. The cops were definitely looking for us—we’d seen them out cruising on the way here, and they weren’t being subtle about searching the sidewalks for familiar faces. And at the end of the day, the clubhouse was the most logical place to look.

I didn’t know what sort of deal Devil had worked out with them, but it must have been a good one because they were like dogs with a bone. Focused and single-minded to the point of being sloppy. I just hoped they were sloppy enough to have left a bad guard here at the clubhouse.

Or maybe no guard at all. Maybe they realized that I’d know this was a trap and had assumed I’d never come around.

If that was true, it would be our first piece of good luck in days.

“I don’t see a damn thing,” Brock hissed from behind me.

“Me either, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there,” I replied. “And I’m not going to take a chance.”

A soft snort behind me. “That’s funny because you’ve been taking plenty of other chances. Long as it doesn’t include risking your own neck.”

The statement was quiet, barely above a breath, but I heard it loud and clear in the darkness and clenched my jaw, fighting to keep from responding. Brock had been impossible to live with since he found out about Tinker. True, Tink was his brother, and he was absolutely allowed the space and time to grieve, but it had been one snarky, confrontational statement after another.

And honestly, I was starting to get tired of it.

I understood that he was upset, and I understood that he was directing most of that emotion my way. I didn’t even blame him for that. But I’d never been one to take disrespect lightly, and he was walking a very fine line at this point.

This also wasn’t the time to bring it up. I was in the midst of a commando mission to get a note into our very own clubhouse. A fight in the alley wasn’t on the list of things to do.

Besides, I’d rather talk it out with Brock than fight him. The man had to weigh twice as much as I did.

“Do you want to get arrested?” I asked instead. “Because the last time I checked, the only way we’re going to make any of this better is by staying out of jail rather than throwing ourselves in there.”

No answer.

Good.

We moved forward, me in the lead, Brock in the middle, and Remy behind him, and I thought once again that Brock wasn’t the best man for a sneaking-around sort of job. He was too big to hide and too heavy to tread softly. He’d never been what you might call subtle.

But he was the best muscle I had even when the gang was all together, and now that we were scattered across the city, he was one of the only men I had at hand. So he’d have to do, attitude or no.

We got to the corner of the building that bordered ours, and I stopped, eyes scanning the darkness ahead of me and looking for anything out of place. The clubhouse looked the same as it always had, though. The parking lot behind the shop where we kept old, unused motorcycles that either didn’t run anymore or were so beat up that we were just cannibalizing them for parts in the main shop. The small space that ran between the clubhouse and the garage, and where too many of my guys liked to go to smoke. The clubhouse itself, dark now, and the back door leading into it.

No sign of movement. No sign of anyone hiding or guarding the place.

My fingers itched to get inside and get the footage from the cameras we had on the place, but that was going to have to wait until we were more secure. Right now, I was only here to put a note on the door letting any of my guys who came around know where we were.

Sure, it was going to look weird to any cops who happened by. But I was guessing they had more important things on their mind than a piece of paper with a letter B on the front door. Like how much money they were getting from Devil.

I was going to kill him.

But not right now.

“Looks like the coast is clear,” I breathed. “You guys see anything?”

“Not a damned thing,” Remy breathed.

“Same,” Brock noted.

That was good enough for me.