Page 115 of The First Cut

“It’s to be expected. You have my number if things change. Sorry I had to meet you under such shitty circumstances.”

“Heavy lay the fucking crown,” he mumbles.

I yank the door open and turn when he calls my name, taking in his tired expression.

“Your old lady, is she doing okay now?”

I smile, a genuine one. “Yeah, she’s good. And every day, she’s better than the last.”

He nods at that, so I pull the door open and step out.

It’s quiet in the corridor, but I can hear music coming from the main part of the clubhouse. I head that way so I can track down Mud and Meek.

I find them sitting at the bar. Mud sees me enter and nudges Meek. Both of them head my way.

“Saw the others tear out of here, so I can only guess how well that conversation went,” Germ says, looking over his shoulder at the few remaining faces. They all look concerned and distracted.

“No easy way to tell them that their princess was taken for spare parts.” I turn and head outside with them flanking me.

“I was half expecting a lynch mob,” Meek admits.

“At the moment, Freya is their concern. They know the blame lies with Khan and Driller, but that doesn’t mean they won’t hold some ill will toward us in the future. It’s easier to have living targets to blame than dead ones.”

“Driller’s not dead yet,” Mud grunts.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Any idea how long it will take him to wake up?” Meek questions.

I shake my head as I climb onto my bike and slide my helmet on. “At the moment, it’s an if, not a when.”

“Who knows, maybe we’ll catch a lucky break and the fucker will have a heart attack or something,” Mud grunts.

“Oh, now you’re just turning me on.” I grin, pulling out my phone. “Fuck, it’s dead.”

Mud laughs. “You can borrow mine if you want.”

I check the time. It’s a little after one a.m. Not wanting to disturb Lola or the kids, I don’t call home. Instead, I call the club to make sure there haven’t been any issues.

When the phone behind the bar rings out, I sigh. Nobody will hear the damn thing over the music, so I don’t know why I even try.

I tap in Byte’s number and wait while it rings. I’m just about to hang up when he answers. “What’s up, Mud? Hannibal, okay?”

“I’m touched you care, Byte.”

He chuckles. “What can I say? You’ve grown on me like a fungus or something.”

“Smart ass. Anyway, my phone is dead, and I don’t want to stick around long enough to charge it. Any issues while I’ve been gone?”

“Nothing interesting to report if you don’t count two club girls getting in a catfight, Redox’s girl going into labor and one of the hangarounds going to the ER after getting his dick caught in his zipper.”

I wince. “No, I don’t count that at all, but I’m glad he did it while I was here. Like fuck did I want to have to deal with that.”

“Can’t say I blame you. How did it go up there?”

“It was brutal, but they handled it better than I would've. Most of the club has headed out with the intel we gave them to do their own recon.”

“Smart. We’d do the same.”