Battle Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 3)

“Fuck,” I mutter when I realise she’s gone. I scrub a hand over my face, wondering what’s going on in her mind today.

“Everything okay here?” Axe asks, pulling up the chair across from me.

I eye him, taking in the lines on his face. “Yeah. You look like shit, though.”

He exhales a long breath. “I feel it, too.”

“That baby still keeping you awake at night?” Axe’s son Asher is six months old and Axe has told me previously that he’s a bad sleeper.

“Yeah, plus travelling here, there, and fucking everywhere. After this trip, I’m heading back to Sydney and refusing to leave for a good year.”

“How long are you in town for this time?”

“A week, hopefully less if I can swing it. Zane’s got me meeting some bigger clients who’ve just come on board.” He pauses. “How are things here with everything that’s going on?”

“Not good. I’m hoping you’ll be able to shed some light on shit.”

“I took the information Hunt gathered from that list of Albert’s and there’s only bad news. The messaging system this gang’s using to get in touch with their customers is untraceable. Nothing else they told you is of any value either. Also, we pulled surveillance footage to get a look at the plates on the car from last night, and they were blackened out. The only thing we could figure out was the make and model, and that information is useless unless you wanna sort through thousands of Mazdas in Victoria.”

Johnson was shot leaving the clubhouse last night. Whoever shot him was sending us a clear message by coming here to do it. They want us to back off. The last thing I’ll be doing. Someone wants to point a fucking gun at me and make a threat, they’re gonna have to pull the trigger to get me to stop.

“So we have nothing new to go on, then?”

“No.”

I sta

nd. “Thanks, brother.”

Axe frowns as he stands. “That sounds like a dismissal.”

I shake my head. “No, but I’ve gotta keep moving. I appreciate you looking into this for me.”

I walk him out and say my goodbyes when I spot Ransom in the clubhouse bar.

“Anything?” Ransom asks when I join him.

“No, but it’s helped me figure out what we need to do.”

“And that is?”

“It’s time to do whatever we need to do to get their delivery guys to talk.” It could take us days or longer to make this happen. We’ll need to watch the customers Zenith took from us and wait for them to receive a delivery, but if we can’t gain information any other way, this is our best bet.

“I’ll make it happen.”

I arrive home just after 8:00 p.m. that night. Later than I preferred, but it couldn’t be helped. Preparing the coke we received today for sale, finalising the run to deliver it, and taking care of other club business kept me busy.

“Hey,” Birdie greets me when I walk into the kitchen where she’s loading the dishwasher.

I run my eyes over her as I rest my hip against the kitchen counter. Folding my arms, I ask, “How was your day?”

She stops what she’s doing for a moment, studying me, before continuing with the dishwasher. “The massage I had was heaven. I just came home after that and watched TV all afternoon. It was a quiet day.”

Birdie isn’t a woman who spends hours watching television. However, IVF has forced her to give up most of her exercise so I figure TV is a good option. Still, I struggle with this change. Hell, I’m fucking struggling with most of this shit.

She closes the dishwasher and looks at me. “Your dinner is in the oven. Do you want it now or after your shower?”

“I’ll get it. You go sit.” I don’t want her running after me; I want her resting.