Page 44 of Nun’s Prayer

“Nope, but the PTB’s are going to check.”

“Let them. I’d love to see them get a bug inside the clubhouse.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea who this is, Wylde; could be IA, could be higher, maybe the Feds. You know how they think. Take down one charter which leads to the next, and it soon becomes a domino effect.” Hatton scratched his chin.

“If they’re coming after Sapphire’s chapter, they better bring nukes, because they won’t get them any other way.”

“It doesn’t help that we can’t solve this damn case. It looks like we’re turning our backs on them and choosing to follow the crimes concerning innocents. Who the fuck cares if scumbags are having the shit kicked out of them? It appears as if we’re being picky over what we investigate.” Hatton murmured.

“They can always talk to the victims themselves. Christ, Capt., even the Gerrits don’t have a clue. That should tell you something. They’d have hit back by now after what happened to Jed.”

“Not unless it’s someone level or higher in the pecking order. They wouldn’t go against the Royal Harlots, Wylde, and you know that.” Hatton turned and caught my eye.

“If you want my badge, Capt., you can have it. But I won’t inform on my woman. I’ll set up as a PI and investigate cold cases, if it comes to it,” I replied.

“Keep that option open, brother, because it might come to that,” Hatton responded. That one comment revealed whose side he was on—mine.

Priest

I stared at the warehouse in front of me. Everything screamed trap. Brielle wasn’t here, but even so, I needed to eliminate the possibility. I checked my weapons, climbed out of the SUV, and locked it. On guard and alert, I surveyed the building’s perimeter. My senses tingled; I wasn’t alone, and this was a damn ambush.

It wasn’t the first time, but this told me something. Other people were aware Brielle was missing and were searching for her. That meant it became even more urgent to find her. If someone had Brielle, they controlled me. That was unacceptable.

Moving silently, I slid through an open window. Voices murmured, and I shook my head. Damn amateurs. But this felt wrong, too obvious. I searched for cameras or a clue. Nothing stood out, but there was something.

“He should have arrived by now,” a guy commented.

“We wait, Marco. She told us he’d come.”

Interesting. She who? These fools weren’t working for themselves; they were working for another person. Someone had discovered who I was and was stupid enough to try to kill me.

“He’s one of the Royal Bastards from Maine.”

“And? So what, Stew? That means he prances about in his leather shit. He ain’t nothing to worry about. He’ll probably cry for his daddy.”

They were in for a shock.

“Ya think so, West? Gotta say, she didn’t seem bothered about him.”

“He’s an old guy. What’s he going to bring to the mix?”

“Sal, yeah, we can take him.”

Fuckin’ idiots. I finally spotted a camera. This bitch wasn’t that dumb. If I let these brainless fools beat me, she’d have it on film. If I killed them, she had blackmail material. Shame I didn’t play by the same rules. I pulled a small black box and hit the first button. The pulse went out and fried every nearby electronic device. Then, for security, I pressed a jammer.

“Which one is Stew?” I demanded, strolling out.

Four guns aimed in my direction, and I smirked.

“I’m Stew, Grandpa. What ya gonna do about it?” a gaunt, yellow-skinned guy boasted.

The knife left my hand before anyone saw it appear and stabbed straight through his eye. Before he hit the floor, Stew was dead.

“Stew? Stew! You killed him,” West cried.

“I took offence to the comment about leather. Now, you’re here to kill me? Let’s get going.” I yanked out my gun and shot West. Sal and Marco finally seemed to realise the danger they were in and belatedly started moving. I hit Marco, spun him around, and my second bullet exploded brain matter everywhere.

Sal began screaming and firing wildly. I ducked behind a post and let the idiot empty his clip. He yelled in panic and tried to insert a new clip.