Page 14 of Twister’s Salvation (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Madison, WI #1)

Twister

The smell of fresh paint and sawdust clung to the air like proof of progress.

It felt good, real good, to see the place coming together. Brick by brick, piece by piece, we were claiming Madison. Quietly. Steadily. And so far, we hadn’t had any pushback. That should’ve been my first clue. Peace never lasted.

The knock on the door was sharp. Three firm raps. Not the kind of knock that said neighbor with a pie or Amazon delivery. It was official.

I raised a brow at Swift and headed toward the front door.

I pulled the door open and found exactly what I expected.

A man in a stiff blue windbreaker stood with a clipboard clutched in one hand and the city emblem on his chest. Behind him were two cops, one tall and bored-looking, the other already sizing me up like he wanted to write a report about it.

“Can I help you?”

I asked, voice flat.

“Morning,”

the windbreaker guy said.

“I’m Harold Denton with the Madison Department of Licensing and Inspection. I’m here about the work being done on this property.”

“It’s a renovation,”

I replied.

“Nothing outside the law.”

He clicked his pen and scribbled something on the clipboard.

“You filed for a basic occupancy permit, but what we’re seeing here qualifies as commercial development. Extensive structural changes, new electrical, plumbing—we’ve got reports of major modifications.”

“You’ve got reports? From who?”

He didn’t answer that. Just flipped a page.

“You don’t have the right permits, and without those, all work must be suspended effective immediately.”

I didn’t move.

“You showing up with cops is how you do business around here?”

The taller cop shrugged.

“Standard protocol when revoking site activity with suspected code violations.”

Bullshit.

“You hear that, Swift?”

I called over my shoulder.

“We’re suspected of... what was it again, Denton?”

“Code violations.”

Swift walked up beside me and wiped his hands on a rag.

“That’s funny. We’re pretty damn good at following rules when we want to.”

“And right now, we are,”

Hodge said, appearing behind us like a fucking shadow. He stood there, arms crossed, face unreadable. Exuded that don’t fuck with me energy like a damn cologne.

Denton cleared his throat. He wasn’t totally rattled, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable either.

“I’m not here to debate,”

he said.

“Just here to inform. If any work continues before the permit situation is resolved, there will be citations, fines, and possibly criminal charges for willful violation of municipal law.”

“What part of the work is the issue?”

I asked.

“We didn’t move the bones of this place. Just cleaned it up and made it usable.”

“The city received complaints—”

“From who?”

Swift interrupted, voice sharper now.

Denton glanced at his clipboard.

“That’s not public information.”

“That’s a convenient answer,”

I muttered.

“Regardless,”

Denton continued, trying to keep the upper hand, “as of now, you are ordered to cease all construction activity until further notice. I’ll leave a formal notice taped to the door. You’ll find all the appeal procedures there.”

He turned, motioned for one of the cops to follow, and walked back toward the cruiser parked half on the curb.

“So that’s it?”

I asked the other officer who lingered.

“We just sit on our hands and wait?”

The cop gave a shrug.

“You got the appeal process. Or you can hire a local contractor who knows the hoops. That’s what most folks do.”

Yeah. Most folks who weren’t being deliberately targeted.

The bored-looking cop taped the notice on the door and then made his way to the cruiser.

The cruiser rolled off a second later.

The silence that fell after the car disappeared wasn’t peaceful. It was pissed-off quiet.

“Well,”

Swift muttered, “wasn’t that a steaming pile of horseshit.”

“You think it was Frank and Nick?”

Wheels asked, coming around the corner with his nail gun still slung at his side.

“I don’t think. I know,”

I said.

“They’re the only ones who don’t seem to like us setting roots here.”

Hodge rubbed the back of his neck.

“And they’re doing it smart. Not coming at us themselves. Making it look like it’s coming from the city.”

Rev scoffed. “Cowards.”

“This isn’t over,”

I said.

“We’re not halting shit. We just have to be smart. Real smart.”

“We hiding the tools then, Prez?”

Swift asked.

“Or we gearing up for a different kind of build?”

I looked at each of them. One by one. Saints. My crew. My brothers.

We came to Madison to take the city, not rent a corner of it.

“We’ll play it calm for now,”

I said.

“Make a few calls. Find out what kind of inspector Denton really is.”

“And if he’s dirty?”

“Then we do what we do best,”

I said, voice dropping low.

“Expose the rot and burn it out.”

We didn’t get chased off.

Not by red tape, not by pencil pushers, and sure as hell not by a couple of bike shop pricks who didn’t have the balls to face us head-on.

The war had officially started.

And they had no idea who they just fucked with.