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CHAPTER SEVEN: CHROME

I hate watching Cicely walk away, but what choice do I have? Having her in my life isn’t possible. At least not until I smoke out the fucking rat. I sent her away because I couldn’t assure her safety inside the clubhouse. I thought she’d be safer in her apartment. But is she? Was someone watching her last night? If so, who? Also, who slashed her tires? And, why? Was it just a coincidence? Kids being kids? Or was the intention more malicious? Did someone want her without transportation? If he wanted to strand her somewhere without a car, there were better ways to disable her vehicle. The thought of her stranded on the side of the road fills me with dread.

My ringing phone distracts me from the thoughts of Cicely, alone and unprotected. Every fiber in my being calls for me to grab her and hide her in the clubhouse, but I can’t. Not until I know who attacked Mode. Bringing her to the clubhouse would put her in greater danger. I believe that.

Glancing at the display, I hit the answer button. “Dante. What’s up?”

“Needed to inform you that Byte won’t be there until tomorrow. We had a situation at Ranch’s place. Byte had to reschedule his flight for the morning.”

I tamp down my aggravation. I was hoping Byte would get here and get to work. I already had his first task: checking the cameras around Cicely’s place. Maybe even putting up some additional cameras. I am considering my options for tonight, and I know I’ll be watching Cicely’s place.

“Chrome, you there?” Dante asks, drawing me back to our conversation.

“Yeah. I’m here, just figuring out the logistics.”

“Did the Nomads make it?”

“Yeah. They made it. We checked Mode into the hospital since he was still unconscious. Cicely and Stitch felt he needed better medical care than what we could provide in the clubhouse. The Nomads are standing guard.”

“Good. Whoever attacked Mode might try to finish him to stop him from identifying them. Byte can take shifts while he’s there. He just needs his laptop.”

“That’s what I hoped. I was going to ask Byte when he got here. Figure he can search for Jordan and Fenhua while guarding Mode.”

“Fenhua’s in San Diego,” Dante says. “He knows Ghost is here.”

“Well, that’s one less person we need to worry about it.”

“I also called because Babe said something I wanted to pass along. He suggested looking into the prospects, specifically, the one you have working behind the bar.”

“Sammy? Babe suspects him? Why?”

“I don’t think he has a reason to suspect him, but he pointed out how much the prospects know our business, even if we don’t let them in on much. We treat the prospects like they’re furniture. We don’t pay them attention until we need something. But they’re always watching and waiting for us to give them a job. Fuck, they’re like that bitch Alexa listening in. Who the fuck knows how much she overhears?”

I snort at his comparison and realize he’s right. The prospects are always around but mostly ignored unless we’re barking orders or checking their work.

“Babe mentioned Sammy spends all his time behind the bar, just like our prospect, Laser. Laser knows where everyone is at all times. He sees people coming and going. He hears the members talking to each other, and he observes their interactions. We trust him because he served with Scar. Fuck, Kingsly managed the bar before Laser did and she is who I would go to if I were looking for someone. Just saying, you might want to keep an eye on Sammy. Dig a little deeper. You also might want to talk to him and see what he knows.”

“Fuck. I will. He may know something that he doesn’t realize is important. He sure as fuck knows who was in the clubhouse when Mode was attacked. Tell Babe thanks for the suggestion.”

“Tell him yourself when you call to apologize for suggesting he was a fucking snitch,” Dante says before ending the call.

Wincing at the anger in Dante’s tone, I enter Mode’s room. I know I fucked up by reacting to Scorch’s anger instead of calming his ass down. Scorch has a short fuse. I know this, but I still listened to him. Seeing as he’s my VP, though, what the fuck else could I do?

“What’s up?” Eagle asks as I enter the room.

“Just got off the phone with Dante. He said Byte won’t be flying in until tomorrow morning.”

“We can manage,” Eagle says. “We’ll rotate between the three of us. I can return to the clubhouse and get some rest before returning to relieve Padre. You can handle eight hours before getting relieved, right?” he asks Stone, who nods.

“Okay, we’re all set. Should we head back to the clubhouse? I want to talk to this Sammy kid before I get some shut-eye.”

I leave Mode’s room, and my eyes immediately search for Cicely. Not seeing her, I tamp down my disappointment and lead Eagle outside. The ride back to the clubhouse is uneventful. Once we arrive, I take Eagle inside and introduce him to Sammy. Scorch is at the bar with Trigger. His eyes narrow as he watches Eagle shoot the shit.

“Got a minute?” Scorch asks, following me down the hall to my office.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Why are the Nomads here?” he asks immediately after shutting the door.

“What do you mean? They’ve stayed here before.”

“Usually, we get more notice. Last I heard, the Nomads were in Philadelphia and heading to Boston. Why come back this way?”

“Dante wants them to help us locate Jordan,” I tell him, giving him the cover story we created. Not that they aren’t going to help us track that bastard down, but finding the rat is their priority.

“What about Fenhua? We should be looking for him. I have some payback to deliver,” Scorch says, slamming his fist into his palm.

“Fenhua skipped town,” I tell him. “Dante called to tell me he’s in San Diego looking for Ghost. They’ll keep an eye on him and likely scoop him up.”

Scorch looks disappointed, not that I can blame him. Fenhua attacked both him and his cousin. He wants to dole out some payback. But he recovers quickly and nods. “Guess Chaos gets to have some fun instead. That means we can focus on this Jordan asshole.”

“No luck finding him?”

“Without Mode? Fuck no. When’s Byte getting in? Thought he was coming today.”

“Tomorrow. They had some problems at Ranch’s place. Byte’s flying out tomorrow morning. Need to get two prospects to the airport with a bike for him.”

“I’ll handle it,” Scorch says, moving toward the door. “Hey, where’s Cicely? I haven’t seen her. Did she go back to work?”

“With Fenhua gone, she doesn’t need to stay here, and she has to work. She doesn’t need our protection any longer.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Scorch says, snagging my attention.

“Why?” I snap.

He shrugs. “Just saying. Her being here changed things. Remember growing up? Our moms never came to the club. It’s where our dads went to get away from the women. It’s a guys’ club. No girls allowed,” he says with a chuckle. “Well, except for the Kutte Bunnies.”

I shake my head at him. He’d always been a hound dog and loved the easy, no-strings-attached Kutte Bunnies over a relationship. I know, because that’s how I felt before I met Cicely. Having women on tap has been a significant appeal of club life since we were teenagers. Hell, both Scorch and I lost our virginity to the same Kutte Bunny. We shared more than one Bunny over the years. After a decade of hitting the easy, I had been the first to look outside the club for a warm body. Scorch had joined me on a few of those trips, but he’d often fall back on the Bunnies rather than try to pick up strange.

“One of these days you’ll meet someone who knocks you on your ass,” I tell him with a smirk.

He shakes his head. “Not fucking likely. Why the hell would I want to tie myself down to one woman? Fuck, you know what my mom was like. Why would I want deal with the shit my dad dealt with.”

I slowly nod as I remember the disaster that was the marriage of Scorch’s parents. His dad was an asshole, but his mother was the queen of bitches. She had a violent streak that she never tried to rein in. She hated her life and took it out on her husband and son. My mom and dad led separate lives but were happy enough when they got together. The same couldn’t be said for Scorch’s parents.

Scorch leaves while I struggle to balance the books. Paperwork is the worst part of the job, but it is necessary. I dig in my pocket for the bill to repair Cicely’s tires. The sky darkens outside, and I can’t help but worry about her all alone in her apartment. Who the fuck was watching her and why?

Unable to concentrate, I shove the book back in my drawer and grab my keys. I’m too fucking old to stand guard outside, but that’s what I’m going to do. I need to make sure Cicely is okay.