Page 139 of Property of Bob

Nobody laughed. Nobody told me I was being paranoid.

Because we’d all had enough of this motherfucker to know better.

Skull moved to the window and looked outside. Piney headed for the door and checked the hallway.

Vin looked around the office like a camera might suddenly appear if he stared hard enough.

I stayed where I was. My eyes were on the piece of paper sitting in the fax tray. Whoever was doing this could’ve sent that fax an hour ago. Yesterday. Last week.

Instead, it came while we were in Ron’s office going through the shit he’d hidden.

Anchor walked toward the machine. He stopped in front of the tray and looked down. His entire body went still.

“What?” Skull asked.

Anchor didn’t answer.

I pushed myself out of the chair. “What does it say?”

Anchor stepped to the side.

There were five words printed in huge black letters across the middle of the page.

YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.

The office went completely fucking silent.

I stared at the words. Just a promise.

Post was the first to speak. “Well, that’s fucking comforting.”

“Shut up,” Anchor snapped. His eyes moved to Skull. “Call the clubhouse.”

My stomach dropped.

Ramona.

I already had my phone out. I hit her name and lifted it to my ear.

One ring.

Two. “Come on, doll,” I whispered. I had just got her, and I was not about to fucking lose her.

Three.

She answered, “Hey.”

Just hearing her voice loosened something in my chest. “Where are you?”

A pause. “Good morning to you too.”

“Ramona.”

Something in my voice must’ve registered because the teasing disappeared.

“I’m at the clubhouse.”

“Inside?”