Most of us, we had no control before we could drive. Nothing we did was because we wanted to. It was because we had to. Because we were forced to.
All our choices, from where we could afford to live, to where we could eat, it was limited. But when we were on the back of a bike, we were just the opposite.
Free.
I knew why Cullen and Sean chose this life, but I also knew it was going to be their death. Eventually.
Sean’s just came a whole lot sooner than I ever thought it would.
I clutched Cullen tighter, feeling him against me, the cold wrapping around us in the form of wind as I pressed my cheek to his back.
I was going to do this. I was going to immerse myself in his world. I needed to. I needed the closure, the understanding. I needed to become part of the monster that scared me for so long.
My ass was numb under the rumble of the motorcycle, the vibration shaking my entire core. It had been a couple of hours now, and I was really starting to feel it. I wanted to off of there and stretch my legs, hell, I wanted to get off and run. What was I thinking, agreeing to talk to freaking heroin suppliers? It was crazy.
But it was the only thing I could think to do to help the club.
We had to be getting close now, so I tried to remember what Cullen told me.
Don’t talk unless someone asks you a question. Don’t flirt, but be polite. Don’t give away too much about your skills, but show you are confident.
It was a trap, and I was the bait. A toy.
I was there to turn the supplier’s head and I knew it. Hell, I was the one who agreed to it. I ran the numbers, more capable than even Snake’s accountant (who had no degree, and learned how to do figures in the back of a bar).
It was a way in. I wanted to know exactly what was going on at all times. If Cullen wouldn’t tell me, I would find out for myself. I was always the more stubborn one. Even Sean knew that. No one could keep me from getting what I wanted.
I found a way.
This MC shit. I hated it. Yeah, I was in now, but that didn’t mean I was okay with the shit that went on. After that last “incident” at the garage I was even more scared.
This shit turned my stomach, but my options were limited. Stay, turn a blind eye, and hope for the best, or stick my fucking nose in it and try to manipulate whatever outcome I could.
I was as good at manipulation as I was stubborn. It was what got me through college, what got me through life.
I needed to know exactly what kind of danger we were facing. Who the monster was that killed my brother, and what we planned to do about it.
We were all monsters, in the end. I wasn’t going to deny that.
Right now, the biggest monster I was facing was Snake. He was smart, accomplished, and a true gangster. Not the playboy types I saw on TV, but the real thing. I knew he was more dangerous than any other man in this life simply because of his age. No one gets to live to be in their sixties in a club like his, not unless he was faster than everyone else, and crueler.
That you are afraid of if you are smart, and if you are a genius, you stay the hell away from.
Guess I was just smart.
I didn’t want to disappoint him. Uncle Mick told me as much. So when we hopped off our bikes and started walking toward the broken down warehouse, I straightened my shoulders and kept my cool.
He wanted me there to run the numbers. Tempt the men. I was a fancy parlor trick and I knew it.
Men liked to see animals in cages, see them do tricks. Make no mistake, that was what I was, who I was, and exactly what I was capable of.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was the truth. I respected the truth.
“Remember what we talked about.” Cullen looked into my eyes, trying to get my full attention. “You stay. Stay near me. Don’t—”
“Talk unless I am asked. I got it.”
He frowned. I’d already broken that rule. I wouldn’t do it with anyone else, but for him… Well, I was never going to do exactly what he wanted.
“Remember. Stay focused.” He shifted, wrapping his arm around me.
Bones should’ve been here. Not just Cullen. It felt like we were more vulnerable without our prez, but he was back dealing with funeral arrangements.
This shit was real. Two funerals in a month, and none of them from natural causes. This was the shit I was getting into.
Part of me wanted to turn tail and run all the way back to Chicago, beg Aunt Megan to let me back in, and hide in my broom closet of a room for the next ten years.
Maybe then it would be safe to come out.
“Yo, looking for Strike.” Snake pounded on the rusted metal of the garage bay door.
It had to have been an old warehouse. Something like that. Because the sign on the door said “O’Grady Fruit and Vegetable Delivery.” The last few letters were faded, rust on the edges of the sign that barely hung on.