Page 13 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Rogue

What in the world was she thinking? What was I?

“Did you know she was going to be at the Ivy?” Havoc sits down at a picnic table outside.

The cold weather discouraged most of the other people, but in full gear, we barely feel it, giving us the perfect spot to speak freely.

Choosing safety over convenience, I sit down with my back to the rest of the group. Overall, the Ivy doesn’t need all this vigilance. There’s never even been a stick up here. “No.”

“Then what was that?”

How should I know? But there was no way I was walking away from her without getting a real kiss.

“If you’re going to put her on the back of your bike, figure it out.”

Vandal and Cyclops walk up with our food.

“So did you get her name yet?” Vandal seems to have a death wish. “Because I want to invite her friends to the barbecue next month.”

“Her friends are way too old for you.” Cyclops opens up his sandwich.

“Leave it alone, Vandal.” Even hearing him talk about her makes me irritated.

“But that one with her today is HOT!” Vandal wiggles his eyebrows.

If I didn’t want to punch him, I’d probably remind him to be chill.

“I don’t mind a cougar.”

“These women are ladies.” Even if they do know how to let loose and have some fun.

“I’m not inviting them to an orgy. Just a picnic where all the old ladies will be. Give me some credit. Like the whole club wouldn’t benefit from those women coming. We need more old ladies around.”

Vandal is barely twenty-two. He’s not mature enough to find an old lady.

Havoc picks up his phone, and the conversation slows down, completely stopping when his body goes hard. “We’re on our way.”

Vandal and Cyclops shove two large bites in their faces as we all stand up.

“Rogue, I need to talk to you on the road.” Havoc tosses his food in the trash as he jogs to his bike. This isn’t good.

Will we be done in time to patrol tonight?

I slide in my custom-designed earplugs. They block most of the road noise because no one wants to be hard of hearing at fifty. Thankfully, I brought a helmet for communicating during the rounds.

We ride out together in formation. Doing it with people that you can trust not to kill you is one of my favorite things about riders.

Havoc sets an all-too-legal pace. That’s even worse of a sign. Not that we’re reckless, but what is the point in riding a bike like this, going thirty-five miles per hour? Going this slow means he wants to avoid all police attention.

“Leech and Bishop were doing their rounds when they found a drug deal going down. Things got hot.” Havoc doesn’t let the stress show up in his voice.

Which means that there was shooting involved.

“Our guys are fine. They’ll need a cleaning crew, but we need to check out the scene first.”

A cleaning crew! That means there is a body on the ground.

Every mile feels like we move slower and slower. Bodies on the ground with our brothers around is a risk we almost never take. Drop the body and leave it.

Right before we pull down an old road that’s more potholes than asphalt, Havoc says, “Vandal and Cyclops keep watch, but don’t be seen.”

They’re going to love hiding in the woods. Vandal brought his new bike too. That kid has more bikes than most of us have t-shirts.

Most of us have a collection, but his…

We roll down the street with more speed than we have since leaving Ivy Café.

They’re selling drugs right where the kids come out Friday night to party and drink.

It’s a smart place to do it, too. The cops never come down this street.

There’s a state park bathroom probably fifty feet from where they party.

You’re far enough from people that you can set off fireworks without anyone seeing them.

It’s wet enough here that they don’t start a forest fire.

If we ever get a dry spell…that’s not going to go well.

Leech and Bishop are leaning against their bikes, waiting for us.

“How many bodies?” Havoc asks as soon as his helmet is off.

“Three. There’s one behind the bathrooms. He tried to get the drop on Bishop.”

Like that would ever happen. After all those tours, they’d need to be professionals to get the drop on him.

One of these dead guys clearly isn’t anywhere near being a professional. The kid looks to be around Vandal’s age. Probably from around here. The other guy...he’s old to still be in the business. Really old.

Dealers that make it this long don’t take meets with small-timers like this kid. It doesn’t make sense.

“Fly and Carver are bringing cleaning equipment. We need to get all the information we can from them now. That includes every tattoo they might have.”

Maybe Vandal will switch jobs. “On it.”

The old guy—I shouldn’t call him old. He’s probably only a few years older than me—was stupid enough to put a woman’s face on his thigh along with a name. Too bad most of the name is gone. “This one looks important.”

Havoc walks over to me. “Whoever that hyperrealism artist is, they’re a master at their craft.”

There’s one woman who knows all the masters in her field. “Should I send it to her?” Havoc will know exactly who I’m talking about. He has her work on his body as well.

“Like we want to involve a woman who’s married to a cop in this.”

But Rhys is the best. “She knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

Havoc raises an eyebrow at me.

“She was in a motorcycle club. She knows how the world works.”

“Was in the world. Now she’s married to a cop. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take at the moment.”

Havoc is probably right not to involve her. But I’m sure Rhys would know. Or at least be able to put us on the right path. “Almost everyone in the club has tattoos. We can start there.”

We move on to the one behind the bathrooms.

Like the old guy, he doesn’t have any identification on him.

Bishop hikes back. “We found the cars. The kid’s belongs to him.

The other looks to be stolen. The plates don’t match the registration we found inside it.

It appears to belong to a woman from Florida.

The car’s old, but too ugly to be considered vintage.

It’s also showroom pristine. Whoever this woman was, she took care of it and kept it in a garage. ”

“Did you dust for prints?” It’s part of the process, but it doesn’t hurt for me to double-check.

“Yeah, Leech has got them. You know how meticulous he is.”

Leech runs everything like it’s an operating room—well, except when he rides. That’s why he was interested in us in the first place. “Ditch the cars a few miles from here in opposite directions.”

“On it.” Bishop runs off.

“Those aren’t enough clues.” Havoc searches the body with me.

This guy weighs a ton, probably close to two-fifty, most of which is muscle, though he seems like he’s on his way to a potbelly. “It’s strange that they didn’t have any identification, even if it was fake.”

“Because if you look like an upstanding citizen, it’s easier to talk your way out of a ticket when you ‘forgot’ your wallet at home, than if it comes up fake.” Havoc pushes him up. “There it is. Tattoo left shoulder. He’s formerly military.”

That’s an identifying mark, which is the first easy lead we’ve gotten.

***

After burying the bodies, drugs, and all the items we found on them, with enough lime to take care of the job and covering the spots with makeshift fire pits and ash, we clear out, leaving no evidence we were ever there.

I need a ride to clear my mind. But that isn’t an option. We need to do our rounds.

“Something about this feels off. Very off,” Havoc says over our private line as we ride.

“Why would the old guy be there? It just doesn’t make sense. The other one could have been his bodyguard.” I lean into the curve, letting centrifugal force counteract gravity. That tiny rush never gets old.

“Why here? Silent Valley is a nice, quiet little town. There are dozens of towns closer to Urbium that would make them so much more money.”

“They could just be expanding their territory. It’s not like they can do business into Urbium easily.

Between the Vincenti Family, the Cataneo Family, and the Deathadders, most of the city is off limits.

There are small pockets where the three don’t patrol.

” It still boggles my mind that two mafia families are trying to stem the flow of drugs in their neighborhood.

Most mafia families have taken to selling them.

“We should take a closer look at the surrounding towns.”

“That’s been done.”

“No, I mean we should send in spies.” Ideally, they would be high school students, but… “What if we sent in Vandal, Ryot, and Plague? They’re all young enough to look like they’re in college.” Will they pass any classes? Probably not. They like to party too much. Which is exactly what we need.

“Can they keep up the act?” Havoc asks.

“What act? Vandal behaves like a teenager all the time.” I slow down as we approach a park. The sun reached the horizon just moments ago, which means the place should be empty. But there are two cars in the lot.

Time to take a closer look. I turn into the parking lot with Vandal behind me. There’s no one on the pickleball courts or the playground. There’s a path up to the lake. It wasn’t quite built for motorcycles, but that doesn’t stop us from heading down it.

On the other side of the lake are our two car owners. They’re currently making out on a bench, completely oblivious to the world.

Tonight is going to be a slow night. Which I can’t complain about after the work we had to do this afternoon.

And it started out so nice. Seeing Peaches…Kissing Peaches was a pleasant surprise. What is she doing in Silent Valley? This place is hardly a speck on any map.

She was with the drunk friend. Vandal isn’t wrong; the friend is pretty, but not half as intriguing as Peaches.

Will she be there again tomorrow?

I shouldn’t go find out.