Here’s where I should probably ask some questions. Stuff like, what’s with the gun? Should I have a gun too? How sideways could this possibly go?
I kept my mouth shut.
“Vipers got no idea who you are.” Merlin patted my cheek with a grease-stained hand. “They’ll still be suspicious. Won’t like a stranger knocking on their door.”
“You look too young to be a cop,” Hudson added. “So they shouldn’t get too worked up about it.”
Whisper side-eyed the younger brother and Hudson shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
None of this boosted my confidence.
Ignoring his brothers, Ulfric continued explaining the plan. “Knock. Whoever answers, ask if you can use their phone to call a tow truck.”
“What if they offer to help?” I gestured toward Ulfric’s white pedo-van we’d driven to Ironworks in.
He snorted. “They ain’t gonna offer to change your tire.”
I was eager to end the conversation, do the job, and get back to Juliet. “They’ll probably say no, right? So, then what?”
“Get me a head count. How many bikers in the building? Let me know if they got women in there.”
Merlin snorted. “Who gives a fuck?”
“I do,” Ulfric growled, shooting a sharp look at his biker brother.
“Okay.” Head count. Make sure it’s just patch holders inside. I could handle that.
“Look for crates of coffee beans while you’re at it,” Merlin added.
Ulfric sneered. “That ain’t his concern.”
“Make our job easier,” Merlin grumbled.
“Once we get inside, we could use his help carrying the shit out. If we know exactly where to go, we can get gone quicker,” Whisper added.
“Guys, the whole conversation’s gonna last about fifteen seconds,” I said. “I won’t have time to get a count on bikers and do your grocery shopping.”
“Just let us know how many we gotta deal with.” Ulfric thumped his hand between my shoulder blades a few times. “And once we go inside, keep the van running. Ready?”
“As I’m gonna be.” I clenched my fists a few times and jumped up and down, much like I had before a fight at the Castle. The two situations felt oddly similar.
I left the four bikers leaning against the van and walked with purpose down the cracked, uneven sidewalk. A light spring breeze kicked up, swirling bits of trash along the curb. My gaze landed on a two-story garish red snake insignia painted on the side of the painted-white brick building. The clubhouse of the Vipers MC.
What a dump.
While it looked unappealing from the outside, they must’ve had something to hide. An eight-foot-high chain-link fence surrounded the parking lot attached to the building. Barbed wire and security cameras lined the top. Motorcycles and a few cars were tucked safely behind the barrier. Out of the corner of my eye, I studied the parking lot and estimated there were at least twelve bikes.
Fuck.
Jamming my hands farther into my pockets, I hunched my shoulders and continued to the front door. Painted the same shade of red as the aggressive snake on the side of the building, it was wide and covered with iron hardware. I gripped the rough metal bar of the door knocker and rapped a few times.
When that didn’t yield any results, I threw my fists against the hardwood planks.
Locks clicked on the other side and the door swung open.
A beefy biker a few inches taller and a lot of inches wider than me filled the space. His black leather cut was adorned with too many colorful patches for me to decipher. But I caught the Sergeant-at-Arms one and groaned.
He crossed his inked-up arms over his chest and glared without uttering a word.
Better make this story as convincing as possible or there’s a good chance this guy snaps me like a matchstick.
My heart thudded but I stuck to the script. “I’m so sorry to bother you, sir.” I gestured wildly toward the sidewalk. “My van broke down. Do you mind if I give my dad a call? No one else would answer their door.” I prayed like fuck he hadn’t used any of the cameras lining the fence recently or he’d catch me in my lie.
“We ain’t gotta phone. Get lost.”
Jesus, did this dude gargle with rocks instead of mouthwash in the morning?
“You sure?” I tried to peer inside. My gaze snagged on at least four other people in the room. “I swear I’ll be quick. I don’t need to come in. If you got a cell or—”
Slam.
I stumbled backward to avoid the door smashing into my nose. Well, at least they didn’t shoot me.
Crack! Splinters of wood flew past my face.
Fuck, they shot at me. They actually fucking shot at me!
Frozen in fear, I stood there for a second, my brain frantically flipping through my options. Which way to run? What path would lower the odds of getting a bullet in my ass to zero?
In a burst of speed, I darted across the street in a diagonal line from the Vipers’ clubhouse. By the time they’d be able to see me from one of the small, high windows, hopefully I’d be out of range. I didn’t hear any other shots, but I kept hauling ass.