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CHAPTER 5
ROGUE
“Have a good night, boss.”
Without looking, I lift my hand, silently bidding Tony goodnight. I’ve asked him repeatedly not to call me ‘boss’, but he just doesn’t listen. I’m at Purgatory, reconciling the books for the month, and the numbers aren’t adding up like they should. I double-check the formulas in the spreadsheet to make sure Waylon didn’t fuck with them like Possum, and when I see that he hasn’t, I become even more concerned.
I push up from the chair and stride out into the main area of the bar. Skye is just leaving, and Waylon is downing his nightly shot of Beam. Soul, Grim, and Malice are sitting in their usual booth, finishing up the pitcher of beer they ordered right before closing. Normally, the brothers like to end the night at the clubhouse, but every once in a while, they’ll come here to chill.
“Hey, Rogue,” Waylon greets after slamming the glass onto the bar. “I was just about to head out.”
“Before you go, I need you to come take a look at something.”
He follows me back into the office. “Everything okay?” he asks after I close the door behind him.
“Not really,” I admit. “This month’s books are off by almost a thousand bucks.”
“What?” Waylon rushes around the desk and looks over my shoulder as I sit and point at the computer. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s right here. You seriously haven’t?—”
“Aw, shit.”
I glance at him, and he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Explain,” I demand.
“That’s the exact amount that special ordered whiskey cost.” Waylon hangs his head. “I must’ve forgotten to add it to the month’s expenses.”
I scan the spreadsheet, and he’s right. There is no deduction for the liquor.
“Dammit,” I snap. “You can’t miss shit like this.”
“I’m sorry, Rogue. There’s no excuse. It won’t happen again.”
I heave a sigh. “Just… go.”
Waylon practically slinks out of the office. I finish up everything I need to do and then join my brothers.
“What crawled up your ass?” Grim asks, his movements purposeful.
When I don’t respond, Soul’s gaze snaps to mine, and he scowls. “Spit it out,” he orders.
“There was an error with the bar’s books.”
“Fifty bucks.” Grim smirks.
Rolling my eyes, I dramatically lift my hands. “You want me to pay myself a fine?”
“Them’s the rules,” Malice reminds me.
“What he said,” Grim signs.
“Fine.” I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet. After taking out a crisp fifty, I slide it across the table to Soul. “Here.”
He immediately slides the bill back to me. “Rogue, please put this fine into the club’s reserves fund when you get back to the clubhouse.” My president is trying so hard to hide the smirk on his face, but he’s always sucked at shit like that.
“Will do, Prez,” I mutter, shoving the money into my pocket.
“Thanks.” Soul tilts his head. “So, answer Grim’s question. What crawled up your ass?”
