Page 33 of Devil’s Snare

“No activity that I could tell. Place is dark. Dog was whining in the backyard. Neighbors complained, and animal control picked it up.”

“Caught that on the internet,” Cyber announced.

“Anything else on the internet?” G.D. growled.

“About Marshall? Just his name related to both homicide cases. The police are scrambling to lock it down.”

“And the club?”

“Nothing. Got that shit locked up tight.”

Satisfied, G.D. finally relaxed against the back of his chair.

“Cyber.” He shifted his gaze to me as I said his name. “Can you dig into Becka Carmichael’s death? See if there’s anything we’re missing. Why she was targeted. It’s not making any sense.”

“Agreed.” Ghost shook his head. “Something ain’t right.”

“I’ve already been looking into her socials. Marshall didn’t have much of an online footprint. He got out of the Corps and kept in contact with mostly Becka and a few other Marines he served with. But the girl has a bunch to sort through. Gonna take time.”

“Need your focus on this, Cyber. Might save our asses if we can point the law in another direction.”

Cyber scooped up his laptop and equipment. “If you need me, you know where I’ll be, Pres.”

G.D. sat forward, elbows resting on the table. “Everyone reports directly to me on this. If trouble is comin’, we need to be prepared.”

He ended church, and I rose from my seat, feeling antsy. Maybe it would sound paranoid to someone on the outside, but preparation kept our club safe and whole. We didn’t like surprises. Right now, we were in the dark about Marshall’s murder and how it might connect to Becka’s.

Until we had answers, we’d stay alert.

I RODE STRAIGHT TO Gwen’s apartment. Didn’t matter that it had only been two hours since I saw her. She was like a drug to me, and I needed another fix.

When I turned into her apartment complex, my headlights landed on the spot where her truck was parked, directly below her bedroom window. The lights were off, and that didn’t surprise me at nearly 3 a.m.

What did piss me off was the motherfucker who glanced my way, a crowbar in his hand as he tried to break into her vehicle. I sped toward him, scaring the shit outta the guy as he fell on his ass. I kicked down the stand and rushed off my bike, running toward him as he took off.

Of course, I chased him. He wasn’t getting away from me. I pulled my piece from the holster strapped to my chest and pointed it in his direction. “Stop right there, or I’ll shoot your fucking kneecaps.”

He stumbled over his feet and fell, landing hard on his left wrist as he howled and clutched it to his chest.

Karma, asshole.

“You chose the wrong fucking car.”

“Sh-shit,” he cursed. “Sorry, man. Won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t.” I pointed to my cut. “See this?”

His gaze swept over the front, and he frowned.

I turned sideways so the streetlight could show him what he obviously missed.

“Oh, fuck.” He paled. “Don’t worry. I’m outta here. Promise. Won’t touch that truck again, and I’ll let my boys know.”

“You do that.”

He got up and scrambled away from me, running his skinny ass as fast as he could. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to come back to the complex and break into Gwen’s truck a second time.

I holstered my gun and returned to my bike, noting the quiet neighborhood. Nobody noticed shit because they all slept in their beds. I preferred the night—fewer people. Less traffic.