Shafted(Devil's Blaze MC 4)(80)
“Yeah, I think you’re growing on me, boy. I do believe you are,” the old man says, slapping me on the back. This time I roll my eyes, but Breezy just curls into my chest with a happy sigh.
“Boss! We got a problem!” Tubby says coming in. Tubs is a prospect that has been with the Saints for a while. At least that’s what the old man says. He said he always meant to patch him in, just never got a chance to—which is code for didn’t care enough to worry about it. He’s working his ass off, and I got a good feeling about the kid. He’s probably going to be one of the first men I patch in. He needs some work, especially in the weight room. He’s not exactly fit, which is how he got the road name Tubs, because his stomach didn’t leave much room between him and the bars on his bike. But, the kid definitely has promise.
“What the fuck is going on now? I swear I can’t see a minute of peace around here,” Pops growls.
“He’s talking to me, old man. I’m the boss here now, you keep forgetting that for some reason.”
His eyes narrow like a beady crow on me. “Maybe I could remember it better if you didn’t have a glass jaw.”
“Fuck you,” I grumble, wishing I hadn’t let him think he was winning for as long as I did. I have a feeling he’s going to ride my ass about that fist fight until one of us draws our last breaths. “What’s up, Tubs?” I ask, ignoring Pops, especially when Bree is kissing my neck lightly and holding me close. There’s much better things to think about.
“You told us to replace the fence on the private side, that we use as our secondary entrance.”
“Yeah, I want the steel enforced that is up to code with the electric ran across the top. We need that shit done before Torch starts installing the cameras for me.”
“We found a dead body there. Looked like it had been dumped fresh.”
“Motherfucker.” I bang my fist on the table.
He wipes his hands on his pants. “What do you want us to do?”
I sigh inwardly. “Let me ride down with you to see if I know who it is, then we’ll decide.”
“I’ll go with you,” Pops pipes up, and I figure I’ll let him. If this body has some significance, he would know.
“Bree—”
“Go honey. I’ll be fine. Just be safe,” she says standing up. I give her a quick, heated kiss and we head out.
I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come as President of the Saints.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Jax
“Pops! It’s Roxy!” one of the older men shouts before we’re even out of the SUV. His words bring a chill over my whole body. I’m out of the car and over to the body in no time, but the old man beats me. He hits the ground and pulls her head into his lap. That’s the only answer I need to assure me that this is Roxanne. Fucking hell, what does this mean? How the hell do I tell Bree, this will crush her.
I lean down to inspect the body, but it doesn’t take a doctor or coroner to discover what killed Roxanne. She’s got a hole through the back of her head that screams close range shot. Since she’s in the woods, close to the compound, I know she’s been sent as a message. What I don’t fucking know is what that message is.
“I want whoever did this found, and I want them fucking brought down!” Pops growls out, holding Roxanne, even knowing there’s nothing that could be done for her now.
“Let’s canvas the area, spread out boys. I don’t care if you just see a cigarette butt. I want to see it. We need to know who the fuck did this, anything might help.”
We spend the next forty minutes going over the place with a fine tooth comb. A few things were out of place, most notably a lighter. It was just one of those cheap disposable ones you buy when you’re waiting in the aisle at the checkout lane when the line doesn’t seem to be moving. It’s there staring at you, so you just grab it. It’s plain and bright Kelly-green. It could have been dropped by one of Pop’s men before I even come along. Hell, it could have been dropped while the men have been working on the fences. Something about it though is bothering me. I can’t even say it looks familiar, because it’s just a fucking lighter. Still, something in the back of my brain tells me I’m missing something.
I’m palming the lighter in my hand while the boys load up their trucks with the tools they’ve been using to reinforce the fences with. I’m palming it while Pops insists on carrying Roxanne to the back of a truck and covering her up in a blanket. I’m turning that damn lighter over again and again in my hand, trying to will my brain to sift through my memory and find out exactly why this damn thing is bothering me.