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“They hurt your woman?”
Roman turned to the speaker. He was shorter than the others and much leaner. His black hair was long, and his dark eyes were a testament to his Asian heritage. There was something about him that caused the hairs on the back of Roman’s neck to stand up and take notice. This one will bear watching, he thought.
“Torque, right?” he questioned out loud. He didn’t offer his hand, sensing Torque wouldn’t reciprocate. But the other man offered him a respectful dip of his head in greeting. “Yes. They did,” he finally answered.
A blade appeared out of nowhere, flashing in the moonlight. Torque spun it expertly. “We going to butcher them?” he asked casually.
Roman tried his best not to let his frustration show. He wanted to butcher them. Badly. “Not today, unfortunately,” he admitted, telling himself to relax his clenched fists. “This is purely a fact-finding mission.”
“We can butcher them after they tell us what you want to know,” Torque was quick to point out.
“That would usually be my MO,” Roman said, appreciating the other man’s work ethic. “But not this time. I promised my woman.”
Torque grunted, looking disappointed, and his blade disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“You’ll have to forgive my brother. He has a thing with bad parents. We’ll follow your lead,” Midas assured Roman.
“Bad parents are fuckers,” Torque stated, spitting on the ground.
Roman nodded seriously. “Fuckers,” he agreed.
“So, what’s the plan?” Midas asked.
Roman answered simply. “Sneak in, tie them up, put the fear of God into them, get the information we need, get gone.”
“Fair enough. We can do that,” Midas stated, receiving nods and shrugs from his crew. “Before we go in, I just wanted to mention that we had a recent visit from a man claiming to work with you.”
Roman focused on Midas intently. He wasn’t a fan of people dropping his name. “Who? And why?”
Midas rocked back on his feet, hooking his thumbs on his belt loops. “Called himself Beltane. As for why, as the new owners of The Morgue he wanted to give us a heads-up about some dirty drugs in town. Said he’s the key supplier and some asshole was out there undercutting him and make bad product.”
Roman hadn’t personally spoken with Beltane since the drama at the warehouse. Abel had been the one following up on the dirty drugs and had assured Roman that Beltane was handling it. Angela had confirmed a drop in overdoses and rage-induced patients, so that was all he cared about.
“He seemed on the level, but I had my tech guy dig into him. No red flags popped up, so I didn’t bother you with it,” Midas explained. “We’ve come to an understanding regarding drugs on MC property, including the new night club. And we agreed to work with him to find the dude messing with the product.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Roman said, glad he didn’t have a new drama to deal with.
Midas shrugged heavy shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a magnanimous guy.”
Roman was about to respond when his cell vibrated. He looked at the caller ID, finding Angel’s name. He answered it within the next ring. “Angel? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Everything is quiet here,” she answered quickly. “I didn’t mean to worry you. And I know you’re probably trying to be all sneaky and stuff, but I just wanted...” She sighed. “I don’t know, to wish you luck. Or something.”
Roman smiled, picturing the cute frown he knew would be on her face. He could hear it in her voice. “Didn’t you already do that this morning? When you were on your knees in front of me in the shower?”
Angela gasped. “Roman! You better be alone.”
He looked around, finding everyone but Morrigan listening keenly. He didn’t care. In fact, he wanted them to know just who exactly she was fucking. “I am very much alone.”
Angela made a rude sound. “Liar. You’re lucky you’re cute, Mr. Romano.”
Roman chuckled, the tightness in his chest—that he hadn’t even been aware of—loosening. “I’ll take all the luck I can get,” he told her, turning serious. “But you don’t need to worry. I’m not going to need it.”
“You better not,” Angela said fiercely. “Be careful.”
“I will,” he vowed.
“I better let you go. I love you.” It was practically a whisper.
