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He looks up as I approach.

“About time.”

“Miss me?”

“Like a rash.”

“Love you too, brother.”

His mouth twitches, but there's no real humor in it.

That tells me plenty.

“What's going on?”

“Grim wants you inside.”

“Yeah, Striker mentioned that.”

Vex pockets his phone.

“Then quit wasting time.”

I study him.

“You know something I don't?”

“Enough to know you need to hear it from Grim.”

Smart-ass.

He's spending too much time with Striker.

I push through the clubhouse doors.

The usual noise is there. Music playing somewhere in the back, brothers talking near the bar, somebody laughing loud enough to make himself heard across the room.

But Grim and Striker aren't among them.

Vex follows me down the hallway.

“They're waiting in Grim's office,” he says.

Now that's interesting.

“How bad?”

He meets my eyes.

“Bad enough prez didn't want it over the phone.”

I open the door.

Grim is sitting at his desk.

Striker stands beside him, a folder open in front of him.

Neither looks pleased.