Chapter Ninteen
Riley
“Who are you?”
I jump at the sudden voice, the bread slipping from my hands and hitting the floor.
“Sorry,” the man says with a smile, his tone apologetic. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s your name?”
I force a laugh, trying to shake off the surprise. “Riley. I haven’t been here long.”
“Riley?” He smiles again, his eyes thoughtful.
“Hayes,” I answer, pushing the unease down. “Would you like a sandwich?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Mayo?”
“Mustard.”
“It’s a bit warm for a hoodie,” I tease as I grab a new slice of bread.
“It’s a weakness,” he laughs. “I’m always sweating like a dog by the end of the day, but I find them comforting.”
He takes a seat, and I get to work making our lunch. The silence stretches between us, thick with something I can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s done anything to make me feel uneasy. I just feel... on edge. There are always new faces passing through these gates, and the club’s reach is a lot bigger than just this compound. So, it’s not really surprising that I’ve never met this man. He must be okay, or they wouldn’t have let him through the gate.
This isn’t the first time I’ve made one of the strangers a quick lunch, but it is the first time I haven’t felt completely safe doing it.
“I think I’ve heard your name on the news,” he says, breaking the silence. “Something about the Police Commissioner?”
I glance up, surprised. “You have?” I hadn’t realized I was newsworthy. Does Spike know?
“Yeah,” he continues, his voice calm. “Mr. Landry was talking about how his woman and child were attacked in their home some odd weeks back. I’m surprised to see you here, though. Does he know where you are?”
The unease tightens in my chest. Where is everyone? There’s usually a crowd of people coming in and out of the kitchen at all hours.
“He’s not happy about it,” I admit, keeping my voice steady. “But he knows we’re here. Spike’s protecting us. Chuck’s not what he makes himself out to be.”
“Most of us aren’t,” he says with a knowing shrug. “You must be something special for Spike to move you inside the compound. Hmm. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. I’ll get out of your hair.”
He gets to the door, but I can’t help myself.
“Who are you?”
“See you around,” he says, his voice lighter, before slipping through the kitchen and heading for the front door.
I stand frozen, the quiet kitchen suddenly feeling very loud. As the door clicks behind him, I’m left staring at the empty space, my heart beating in my chest.
Something doesn’t feel right. My thoughts swirl, each one louder than the last, but I shake my head. I’m probably just overreacting. Walking to the door, I peek through the peephole, half expecting to see someone watching from the other side. But whoever he was is simply gone. The courtyard in front of the clubhouse is packed full of people, so he’s probably chatting with his buddies.
Taking a deep breath, I head back to the kitchen.
“Everything alright?”
Again, I startle at the sudden voice and laugh when I see that it’s just Tank.
“I think you men need to start wearing bells,” I tease. “How is it that someone so big can make little to no noise?”
“Survival, darlin’,” he smiles. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our lives aren’t always safe. You quickly learn small tricks in order to stay alive.”
“Like moving without making a sound?”
“Like moving without making a sound,” he nods.
“I guess that could come in handy,” I admit. “Want a sandwich?”
Tank grins, flashing a bit of a teasing glint in his eyes. “Serving another man food? You trying to make Spike jealous, darlin’?”
I chuckle, shaking my head as I grab the bread. “No, just trying to make sure you don’t starve while you’re wandering around. What do you want on it?”
“Mayo,” he says, already pulling a chair out to sit at the kitchen table. “And throw some extra meat on there. I’m a growing guy.”
“I don’t think it’s physically possible for you to grow anymore, Tank,” I laugh. “Your skin simply wouldn’t allow it.”
“You may be right about that,” he grins. “But it won’t stop me from trying.”
This time, the silence as I make the sandwich is comforting and peaceful.
“Tank, do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”
“With this crazy bunch?” he chuckles, accepting his food. “All the time. Why? What’s going on?”
“I feel paranoid,” I admit, nibbling at my own sandwich.
“That’s to be expected, Riley,” he says. “You’ve been through a lot. If you weren’t losing your mind at least a little, I’d be worried.”
“I suppose,” I sigh. “But I think it’s more than that.”
Tank raises an eyebrow, his expression turning serious for the first time. “More than what?”
I hesitate, unsure if I should say the words out loud. It feels like I’m starting to unravel, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to face what’s been weighing on me.
“I don’t know,” I say finally, setting the sandwich down. “Something’s just... off. There’s this feeling like there’s something waiting to explode. Like the calm before a storm.”
Tank chews thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving me. “You’re not wrong. There’s been a lot of weird energy around lately. The club’s been... quieter. It’s got everyone on edge. The shared anxiety is probably making you feel worse.”
“You’re probably right,” I say, laughing it off. “Just moments before you arrived in here I was having weird feelings about one of your brothers.”
“Did someone touch you?” he asks.
“No, nothing like that,” I admit. “I was just talking to him, and I told myself that something felt off. I just didn’t feel comfortable around him is all. You bikers sure can be scary.”
“Who was he?”
“I didn’t catch his name,” I answer. “He was someone new, though. I hadn’t seen him before. He was just as surprised to see me, though. He didn’t know who I was, so that’s why I knew he had to be from one of the other chapters of this club.”
“He was surprised to see you?” Tank asks, shoving his half-eaten sandwich away.
“Well, yeah,” I say, his tone causing that uneasy feeling to creep right back in. “Actually, he said he heard my name on the news a while back. I guess Chuck is telling everyone that I got attacked in his house. Idiot.”
“Riley, I need you to focus. Why was he in here?”
“You’re starting to scare me, Tank.”
“Baby girl, I need you to answer the question.”
“I don’t know,” I say, tossing my arms up. “I made him a sandwich, we talked for a few minutes, and he left. He didn’t act as if he shouldn’t be here.”
“What did he look like?”
“You’re not exactly helping my theory about me going crazy, big guy.”
“Riley.”
“Fudge. Fine. Uhm. A little under six feet. Red hair. Green eyes. Snarky, crooked smile. And he had his hair pulled back in a man bun.”
“Was he wearing a cut?”
“Cut?”
Tank points to his vest.
“No, he had on a gray hoodie.”
“Don’t move from this spot,” he says, turning and leaving.
Seconds later, he waltzes back in. “On second thought, come with me.”
I swallow hard, my stomach twisting with a mix of nerves and confusion. “What’s going on, Tank? You’re starting to freak me out here.”
Tank’s face is all business now, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something darker, more urgent. He steps closer, lowering his voice so it’s just for me. “That guy you described? He’s not from one of our chapters, Riley. And if he’s asking about you, that’s a problem.”
“Wait, what?” I step back, my heart rate picking up. “You mean... he’s not part of the club?”
“No, he’s not,” Tank says firmly, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for any sign of danger. “There is a strict rule. If you don’t live inside the compound, you don’t remove your cut while inside the walls. I know every person involved in this club, Riley. As VP, I’ve made it my job to know all of their faces. He isn’t one of us. I need you to trust me on this. Come on, let’s go.”
I nod hesitantly, the weight of his words sinking in. Every instinct tells me I should be more worried, but I follow him anyway, the knot in my stomach tightening. Something doesn’t feel right, and now I know it’s not just me. Tank’s never this serious unless something’s off.
As I follow him out of the kitchen, I glance over my shoulder toward the door, my mind racing with questions I can’t seem to answer.
Who was that guy? Why was he asking about me? And why the hell is Tank so determined to keep me close?
We pass half a dozen men on our way to wherever we’re going, and true to his word, every one of them wears their biker vests.
Eventually, we land in the war room. Spike looks up, his smile fading when he sees the look on my face.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks, handing Asher off to Crusher.
He stands but doesn’t move any closer.
Before I can get a word out, Tank lays the whole story on him.
“He could have been from one of the other Iron Shadows chapters,” I add quickly. “Yesterday, a few came over just to hang out, remember?”
“You said he didn’t recognize you?” Spike asks, not budging from his spot.
Why isn’t he rushing over here to pull me into his arms?
“No,” I answer honestly. “He asked who I was. He said he recognized my name from something Chuck said on the news.”
“But he didn’t know who you were?”
“Spike, there are at least a hundred people in your club,” I snap, my voice rising. “If he came from another chapter, he wouldn’t know who I am.”
“Foster, call the other three chapters,” Spike orders.
The big man nods, pulling out his phone. A few moments later, three separate screens light up on the big monitor mounted on the wall.
“Prez,” multiple voices call out.
“Brothers,” Spike greets. “Yell for those nearest to you to come into view.”
It takes seconds for dozens of men to appear on screen.
“Quick question,” Spike says. “Who is this?”
He glances at me, and Tank steps out of frame.
“Hey, it’s the first lady.”
“It’s Riley.”
“My old lady can’t wait to meet you.”
“We need to plan a visit.”
“That’ll be all, brothers. Thanks.”
The screens go blank, and Spike turns back to me, his face deadly serious.
“Every single member of my club knows who the fuck you are, baby,” he says. “They know your name. They know your face. They even know your voice. Every. Single. Member.”
He takes a deep breath, then finally walks over, pulling me into his arms like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
“So, who the fuck was inside my compound and near my woman?”
“I’m checking gate security,” Foster says, sitting at a desk full of computers. “Looks like we had two visitors about half an hour ago.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” Spike snaps, his voice razor-sharp. “Who was on gate duty?”
“Mike,” Foster answers.
Spike’s expression darkens. “Bring him to me. Now.”
“I thought Mike was in the clear?” Skip asks, his gaze darting between them. “What the hell is going on, Spike?”
Spike doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns to Max. “Once you get gate security in place, go find my sister. Make sure she’s secure.” His grip tightens on my arm as he guides me down into his chair. “Take my boy with you. If shit goes down, I don’t want him anywhere near it.”
The room shifts into motion around me. Men bark orders. Phones ring. The hum of tension is thick, suffocating. My pulse pounds in my ears as I struggle to keep up with what’s happening.
Then the door swings open.
“What’s up?” Mike asks as he steps inside, his expression relaxed.
Spike’s grip on the back of my chair tightens until I hear the frame groan under his fingers. “Did you let someone through the gates half an hour ago?”
Mike nods. “Yeah. Why?”
“You know no one gets in without an officer’s approval,” Spike growls.
“I had approval,” Mike says, frowning. “Your cousin came by with a friend. Said he needed to talk to you about something. I called it in before opening the gate.”
A murmur ripples through the room.
“Billy is blacklisted,” Spike says, his voice eerily calm. The kind of calm that comes before an explosion. “No one would approve his entrance unless I said otherwise.”
Mike stiffens. “I’m sorry, Prez, but I followed protocol. You can check the camera inside the box. I called it in.”
“To who?” Spike demands.
Mike hesitates. “Max.”
Silence slams into the room like a freight train.
“He’s approved plenty of entrances before,” Mike adds quickly. “It’s never been an issue.”
“He knew Billy was blacklisted,” Tank says, his voice low, deadly.
“He also knew everything about that last run,” Bones adds. “A team was waiting to take us out when we arrived at the buyer’s location. This can’t be a coincidence, Spike.”
The air turns ice-cold.
“Where is he now?” Spike asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mike shifts uncomfortably. “He stayed at the gate when he sent me here.”
A sudden, crushing realization slams into me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath.
“Spike,” I whisper, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
He turns to me, eyes burning with barely restrained rage.
“Max has Asher.”
For a moment, the room is frozen. No one breathes. No one moves. Then Spike explodes.
“Find him!” he roars, sending a chair flying across the room.
Men scatter like a well-oiled machine, weapons drawn, barking orders into radios. My stomach twists, nausea clawing up my throat.
“Riley, stay here,” Spike orders, but I’m already moving.
“Like hell, I will!” I snap, shoving past him. “That’s my son, Spike!”
His hands clamp down on my arms, but I fight against him, desperation overriding reason. “I swear, if you waste time trying to keep me locked in here instead of finding my baby, I will never forgive you.”
His jaw clenches. A storm rages behind his eyes, but after a beat, he jerks his head. “Stay at my side. You don’t leave my sight.”
I nod frantically, and just like that, we’re moving.
“Mike, watch her fucking back.”
“On it, Prez,” he says, his voice heavy.
The clubhouse is in chaos and my mind is a blur, panic pressing in on all sides as I chase after Spike.
A sickening dread coils in my stomach as I look around, searching for any sign of Asher. My hands are trembling, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
Then, a crackle comes through the radio.
“Gate’s wide open,” comes a voice. “No one is here.”
My knees nearly buckle, but Spike is already moving.
“Get eyes on every camera between here and the highway!” Spike shouts. “Find that fucking traitor.”
Foster jogs up, his expression grim. “Security feed shows Max leaving with two others. They didn’t have your boy.”
“What’s going on, Spike?”
Abby steps out of her house, cradling Asher against her chest.
As the realization slams into me, my knees buckle, and I collapse under the weight of it all.
Spike takes Asher from Abby, holding him close for a brief moment before kneeling and placing him in my arms.
“Is Max okay?” Abby asks, her brows drawing together. “He dropped the baby off not long ago. Said he was in a hurry.”
Spike’s jaw tightens. “What else did he say?”
“Something about needing to sort something out. He seemed tense but didn’t explain. What’s going on?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Spike says, helping me to my feet. Then, turning to Crusher, he barks out, “Inform the security team that if they see Max, shoot to injure, not to kill.”
“Got it.” Crusher nods and strides off.
“Mike, send everyone else home,” Spike continues. “Unless they live here, work security, or are an officer, I want them gone until further notice.”
“On it,” Mike nods.
Spike’s gaze sharpens. “Any idea where Max would go?”
“Iron and Ink,” Bones answers. “He spends a lot of time there, even when the shop’s closed.”
I swallow hard and turn to Foster. “Mr. Foster, did that man leave with Max?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
Foster gives me a small, knowing smile. “Just Foster.”
I manage a weak nod. “Foster… did Billy leave with him?”
His expression darkens. “Yeah, honey. He’s gone.”
A heavy sigh slips past my lips as I lean into Spike’s warmth.
“I’m taking my girls inside,” Spike says, wrapping an arm tightly around me and ushering Abby closer. “Everyone else, meet me by the gate.” His voice hardens as he issues his final orders. “Foster, Skip…you’re staying here, protecting my family. There are guards around the perimeter and snipers in place. Mike, you’re on gate duty until I get back. No one gets in without my personal approval. Understood?”
“Yes, Prez,” Mike says. “I’ll clear everyone out now.”
As they disperse, the tension thickens, an unspoken understanding settling over us all.
Max betrayed us.
And whatever comes next… it won’t end well for him.
Foster studies his phone, his expression unreadable. “What was Max’s main job in the club?”
“He was in charge of all things regarding prospects,” Tank answers. “Why?”
Foster’s eyes darken as he swipes across his screen. “Because Skip’s laptop was accessed late last night, and three transactions were deleted from his transcript records. And since Skip was with me, helping move shit into my new place during those timestamps, I know it wasn’t him.”
Skip stiffens. “Say what? I keep those transcripts off all servers. They can only be accessed through my personal computer. How the hell did you even gain access?”
Foster raises an eyebrow, and without hesitation, Skip turns and sprints toward one of the houses.
Spike’s grip tightens around my waist as he rubs my back in slow, steady circles. “What did Max delete?”
Foster exhales sharply. “I won’t know for sure until I get into Skip’s system, but I’m guessing it was records from your last three runs. Skip left himself notes about contacting the dealers and upping the price due to increased risk.”
Skip storms back over, his face flushed with fury, shoving the laptop into Foster’s hands. “That two-timing, son-of-a-bitch, dead motherfucker,” Skip growls. “Find out if he did anything else. He erased my records on three weapons scrubbings and changed the name of the Fentanyl buyer. He’s covering his tracks. There’s no doubt in my mind that he and Billy have been working together.”
Spike’s expression darkens, his voice dropping to something lethal. “Billy was pissed when I told him he couldn’t sell that shit here.”
Foster’s fingers fly across the keyboard. “Then I’d say we just found his motive.”
Max didn’t just betray the club. He sold us out.