OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(119)

“You’re going to catch them yourself?” Dante asked, astonished that I wasn’t sending a group of guys downstairs to wait.



“Of course I am. I want to be the first one to set eyes on our little thief. And if they don’t work for anyone, I’m going to offer them a job working for us,” I told him.



While he stared at me with his jaw on the floor, I got up and walked out of the room.





Chapter 2




Sasha



The Hell’s Overlords MC was headquartered in an old building they’d bought and converted into their HQ and clubhouse. At one point, the building had housed either another warehouse or some type of manufacturing plant. Unlike so many other buildings in the old industrial section of town, the Overlords had renovated the building.



The three-story brick structure was clean and well-lit. New windows had been placed in the arches in the brick façade. The garage doors in the old delivery bays were new as well. There was a flag out front with the Hell’s Overlords’ back patch on it. It was the Grim Reaper riding an old motorcycle. The blade of his scythe arching overhead with Hell’s written in what was supposed to be blood. Underneath the reaper and his bike was a frayed banner with Overlords burned into it.



Even at night, there were lights on inside. The Overlords never slept. I figured they had a use for each floor of the building, but I wasn’t sure what to expect once I got inside. Working for Fang, I wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with other local bosses. No one really liked Fang, and since I’d probably stolen from everyone, no one wanted to talk.



So I had to resort to what I did best. I had to wing it.



The key to my success was avoiding the light and staying in the shadows. As far as I was concerned, I was a shadow. I dressed all in black. I wore shoes with smooth soles that didn’t leave prints. I wore gloves and a ski mask at all times. Even my backpack was black. One thing I didn’t carry was a weapon. I didn’t want to give myself the option of getting caught and fighting my way out.



I cased the joint first. I had to know where the entrances were, where the light fell around the building, and where the cameras and other security features were, among other things. I watched members come and go all night, starting with what looked like a meeting. A bunch of guys rode up on their motorcycles, riding into the building through the bay doors, which were then closed to hide and protect the bikes.



I waited until they left a little while later. Then, I approached to get closer to the building. A few guys came and went all throughout the night. I figured there was still someone inside to act as security, along with whoever was keeping the lights on upstairs.



There were cameras outside on the corners of the building, but after looking them over again and again, I realized there were no cameras facing the rear of the building. I moved to the rear door and found it unlocked. As I opened it, I checked to see if there were any wires or sensors, anything. The door was completely unguarded and unwatched.



This must be where deals are made or where certain guests are accepted, I thought as I quietly stepped into the building. It still seemed odd to me that a door like that wouldn’t be locked.



Regardless, I was in.



The ground floor was open from wall to wall. There were thick columns that looked like they were supporting the upper floors, but there were no inside walls. A few bikes were parked on the concrete pad just behind the bay doors, so I could count and guess how many people were at HQ overnight.



I crept around the room, looking for stairs or a door that would lead me downstairs. There were pool tables, dart boards, and TVs in the room. There was a bar along the opposite wall, and it looked well stocked. It was late enough that there was no one downstairs when I entered. I didn’t see any internal security measures either. They probably felt like they were their own security, I figured.



I eventually made my way around the room and found an open stairwell next to the bar. I walked carefully, trying to keep the hardwood floor from creaking beneath my footsteps. I crept down the concrete stairs, my padded feet not making a sound, until I reached a large sliding door set back in the wall.



My heart raced with adrenaline. My pulse echoed in my ears, and it felt loud enough to give me away. I put my hand on the handle to pull the door open and waited to listen for anyone who might have been waiting behind it. All I could hear was my breath. I waited for my breathing and my pulse to calm down before doing anything else.



I slid the door back, slowly at first, trying to be quiet, but the door could not be quiet as it slid into the wall.



“Fuck it,” I said under my breath, and shoved the door the rest of the way open.