“We’re clean,” Ox says, moving into the hall and passing Blade as he walks in.
Green eyes flashing, Blade scans the room. “Get ahold of Poet and Edge.” His voice is eerily calm.
“Edge is almost here. He has Dolly with him.” Axel lights a cigarette.
Blade walks over to the bar for a bottle of Jack. “I know none of us want to deal with a party, but the Feds and LAPD are watching. Burbank PD is sitting this one out, which buys us time.”
I straighten, not trusting myself to speak. There’s too much adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream. A knock prompts us to look at the monitors. Edge and Ox wait patiently at the door.
“Poet texted a few seconds ago. He’ll be here when he can. Charlie’s having bad morning sickness, and they’re waiting for her mom to show up to watch Zack.” Axel tosses his burner on the table and opens the door.
Blade cracks the seal to the bottle. “We’ll fill him in. Ox, get Frosty and Rip.”
My eyes go to Axel’s. Bringing in Rip is big. This means he’s getting ready to be promoted. It’s a smart move, especially if Poet needs to take care of Charlie.
“You want me to call Jett and Roddy?” Edge pulls out his phone.
“No. Not yet.”
Edge lights up a cigarette and grabs a handful of bacon. “Dolly’s here. She’s got decorations and shit.”
Blade sits at the head of the table and takes a swig, then hands me the bottle.
“Edge, this is gonna get bloody, brother. You’ve got a baby on the way. If you need to take a step back—”
Edge glares at Blade and me. “You fuckin’ kidding me?”
Blade holds up his hands. “I’m being honest. There’s no shame if you want to sit this one out.”
Someone knocks on the door and Edge walks to it. “We ain’t going down. And if I need to step back, you’ll know it,” he sneers.
“Anyone else? This is the last time I’m asking.”
The room is silent. Frosty walks in carrying his laptop, followed by Rip.
“What’s wrong?” He looks around the room confused. “This is it. Lodestar came through.” He sets down his stuff, opening his laptop as a picture of a thin woman with pale skin, blue eyes, and long black hair stares back at us on the TV.
“Jesus.” Rip stares at the screen.
“Her name is Daniella Petrov. She’s the rat.”
“Goddamn it.” Blade’s chair falls backward as he stands to look out the window.
Axel scrubs his hands up and down his face. I stay quiet, because all I can see is that day, when we opened the back of that truck. There must have been thirty of them, beaten, filthy, and terrified.
“She was one of the girls in the truck.” It’s not a question, ’cause I know it deep inside. We all do.
“She was. Apparently, she thought it was a modeling contract. She was fourteen.” Frosty looks at me. “Now, here’s the deal with her. Her dad died by suicide six months ago, and the mother and sister are missing.”
Frosty types on his computer. “This is the police report she made. She basically told them that her family was being terrorized by the Volkov mafia and they sent her away. Now she’s being protected by the Feds, she’s ID’d Ryder as the only killer, and they’ve sealed the records of the names of the women on the truck. Lodestar had to dig deep to get this.” A report showing all the names of the victims in the truck appears on the TV.
“There’s her name and age.”
“I knew it.” Edge stares at the screen.
“Where are they holding her?” I look at Frosty, who rolls over in his chair to grab a Red Bull from the minifridge.
“Northridge, 18860 Napa Street. We need to get this done fast. I think the Feds are gonna arrest you and move on to the club.”
“Eve and Antoinette are here.” Rip looks over his shoulder at us. I glance at the monitor. Tons of bikes are parked outside, and music is already thumping through the wall.
“Ryder, I want you to let me and Axel take care of this.” Blade turns to look at me.
“You know I can’t do that.” I smile.
“I know you, I know your code, and that concerns me. My main priority is this club. This is my family.”
I walk over to him. “I already told you, it’s done.” My eyes lock on his.
“You’re my enforcer and my brother.” He crosses his arms. “Axel and I will come with you. We’ll take out the pigs who are guarding the rat.”
“It looks like a minimum of two at all times. They’re not taking chances. They have sensors on the doors and windows,” Frosty says as he brings up a picture of the house. It’s a typical house, nothing special, beige and with a large yard that doesn’t have much grass left.