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“You reckon they’re going all the way back to Melbourne?” Zep reached for his sandwich.
“Nah, they must have holed up somewhere closer before coming at us.”
Zep agreed. “How many are you taking with you?”
“A dozen. Need to leave enough here to protect the property.”
“Brodie and Mick will want a piece of that action.” Dodge looked up from his sandwich. The look on his face suggested he wished he could be there as well.
“Connor’s keeping them posted.”
“And the cops?” Zep took a bite. The sandwich was fresh and hit the spot.
“Watched from a distance.”
The police were more than happy for The Devils and the Isobel’s to take each other out, particularly if there were no civilians in the cross-fire. “I imagine Ricochet will be paying you a visit.”
“They’ll be talking to Connor. They caught up with you yet?”
“Keeping their distance for now.” According to Scott, Ricochet was scrambling to catch up. They’d worked out that Isobel wanted to wipe The Devils out, but thought their efforts were concentrated on the North Coast. To be fair, Zep had thought the same thing. The boys in Sydney were on high alert, as were the cops. Not that was much to attack at the clubhouse. No one was living there, and the construction was off the radar for the moment.
“Keep me updated. And stay alive.”
Sonny grunted. “Wasn’t planning anything different.”
The call ended and Zep filled in the blanks for Dodge. They finished their food in silence, each lost in their own thoughts of vengeance.
“James Page.” A shadow loomed over the table. “Got a moment to have a chat?”
Zep lifted his eyes towards the voice. A detective in plain clothes grinned down at him, like they were old mates. He held a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Just lost my appetite.” Dodge pushed the chair back and got to his feet. He looked the cop up and down, his lip curled in a sneer, before walking away.
“Mind if I sit?” The cop sat without waiting for an answer.
Zep eyed him across the table. He looked like his mother still cut his hair. Zep stretched his shoulders, imagining himself leaning over and knocking that idiotic grin off his face.
“Detective Inspector Ian Reynolds, with Taskforce Ricochet.”
At least he wasn’t stupid enough to expect a handshake.
“I’d like to talk to you about the death of Nikos Kypianos.”
“What about it?”
“Do you know who killed him?”
The cop’s eyes were a freakishly light blue; made him look less human. “Should I?”
Reynolds chuckled. “Well, he went after your daughter, didn’t he?”
Zep wondered if Scott had told him that, or if the cops had worked it out for themselves.
Reynolds slurped his coffee, filling the silence.
“What about the explosion that occurred this morning at 37 Seafarers Way in Lennox Head?”
Zep waited.
