14. Brick
14
brICK
The ride home is mercifully quick. Rowan rides with Maddox again, her arms wrapped around his waist, head tilted back to catch the night air. I focus on the road ahead, trying to ignore the jealousy that’s been gnawing at me all night.
After dropping Rowan at her apartment—Maddox lingering longer than necessary at her door—we head to our place on the outskirts of town. The house is dark and quiet, which is just how I like it after a night of noise and crowds.
“Beer?” Maddox offers, heading for the kitchen.
“Pass.” I check my phone, noting three more missed calls from Teller. “Got some calls to return.”
“At this hour?” Maddox raises an eyebrow.
“Club business,” I say simply, and he nods, understanding immediately.
In my office, I close the door before returning Teller’s call. He answers on the first ring.
“Took you long enough,” he growls without preamble.
“Was at the races. What’s up?”
“Meeting’s moved to tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.”
“Something wrong?”
“Maybe.” He sighs. “Matthews from Cerberus will be calling in. Said it concerns you three directly.”
My blood cools. Cerberus doesn’t make social calls. “We’ll be there.”
“Good.” He hesitates. “Might want to leave the pretty baker at home for this one.”
The fact that he knows Rowan was with us tonight shouldn’t surprise me. Wolf Pike’s top MC president knows everything that happens in his territory. “Noted.”
After hanging up, I sit in silence for a long moment. Matthews reaching out directly is unusual. The organization that employed us for five years prefers to maintain distance once operatives are “retired.” For them to initiate contact means something serious is brewing.
I pull out my phone and send a message to our group chat:
Taking the morning off tomorrow. No early opening. Will explain later.
Maddox responds immediately: Everything good?
Things will make more sense in the morning, I reply.
I switch to my messages with Rowan, typing carefully: No early shift tomorrow. Diner opening delayed until noon. Take the morning off.
Her response comes quickly: Everything okay?
Just business matters. Nothing to worry about, I send back.
Then I add: Good riding tonight.
I stare at her reply—just a simple thumbs-up and Thanks— longer than I should before setting my phone aside.
Sleep proves elusive. I drift in and out of restless dreams—some featuring Rowan’s curves in those leather pants, others darker, filled with memories of operations best left buried. By the time morning breaks, I’ve given up on real rest.
I find my brothers already in the kitchen, Ryder making coffee while Maddox scrolls through his phone.
“So what’s this about?” Maddox asks without looking up. “Since when do we close on Saturday mornings?”
“Meeting at nine,” I announce, accepting the mug Ryder hands me. “Teller’s clubhouse. Cerberus will be calling in.”
That gets their attention. Maddox sets his phone down, all traces of his usual humor gone. “What do they want now?”
“Don’t know. But it concerns us specifically.”
“Thought we were done with them,” Ryder says quietly.
“So did I.” I take a deep drink of the too-hot coffee, welcoming the burn. “Be ready in thirty.”
The ride to Teller’s clubhouse takes us through the heart of Wolf Pike. Saturday morning brings families to the main street, shoppers filling the sidewalks. Normal people living normal lives with no idea of the darker currents running beneath their town’s peaceful surface.
Black Wolves headquarters is on the outskirts, in the opposite direction from our place. It’s a converted farmhouse, surrounded by outbuildings that serve various club purposes. The security is subtle but thorough. Cameras track our approach, and armed men watch from seemingly casual positions.
Clay meets us at the door, expression serious. “They’re waiting in the war room.”
The club’s inner sanctum hasn’t changed much since my brothers and I left town—there’s a large wooden table in the center, maps on the walls, and a tech setup that would make most government agencies jealous. Teller sits at the head, flanked by his oldest members. The empty chairs at his right hand are clearly meant for us.
“Kane brothers.” He nods as we enter. “Right on time.”
A large screen dominates the far wall, which is currently dark. As we take our seats, it flickers to life, revealing a face I haven’t seen in almost a year—Andrew Matthews, senior handler for Cerberus operations.
“Gentlemen.” His voice comes through crystal clear despite the distance. “Wish we were connecting under better circumstances.”
“Cut the pleasantries,” Teller growls. “What’s the situation?”
Matthews’s expression tightens. “We’ve got a problem. Specifically, the Kane brothers have a problem.”
I lean forward. “What kind of problem?”
“Cypher.” The name hangs in the air like a curse. “He’s put a bounty on your heads.”
My brothers and I exchange glances. Cypher—leader of the Vipers MC, one of the most ruthless drug suppliers on the West Coast. We dismantled one of his major cocaine distribution networks in northern California last year.
“How much?” Maddox asks, his voice deceptively casual.
“Two million. Each.” Matthews lets that sink in. “He’s still rebuilding after what you did to his operation. Lost him close to fifty million in product and infrastructure.”
“Seems like we did our job well,” I comment dryly. “What’s the concern? We’ve had bounties before.”
“Not like this.” Matthews leans closer to his camera. “He’s contracted some serious players. Ex-military. Cartel enforcers. He wants you alive, by the way. Says he wants to take his time.”
The implication hangs heavy. Cypher’s reputation for creative vengeance is well-documented.
“So what’s the play?” Teller asks, looking at me. “You want to relocate the boys temporarily?”
“Fuck that,” Maddox snaps. “We’re not running.”
“I agree,” I say. “We’re established here. This is our home. We’ll increase security, but we’re not leaving.” I lean forward, adding, “Let us go back and finish what we started. End Cypher and the Vipers for good.”
Matthews shakes his head firmly. “That’s not happening. This situation requires a delicate touch, not a frontal assault. Cerberus will handle Cypher.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Maddox demands. “Sit around waiting to be hunted?”
“Exactly that.” Matthews’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Keep your heads down. Maintain your normal routines. Act like you know nothing about this.”
“So we’re bait,” I say flatly.
Matthews sighs. “You’re assets we’d prefer not to lose. Let us handle this. That’s an order.”
“We don’t work for you anymore,” I remind him.
“No, but you’re still living because of us,” he counters. “Trust me when I say engaging Cypher directly right now would be a mistake.”
“What’s your stake in this?” Teller asks Matthews directly. “Why help at all?”
“Cypher’s organization has information we need,” Matthews admits. “We’ve been building a case against his entire network. You three stumbling in guns blazing would compromise years of work.”
“How thoughtful,” I say dryly.
“Plus,” Matthews continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “we invested a lot in you three. Be a shame to waste it.”
The meeting continues for another hour—logistics, intel, and potential approaches. By the time Matthews signs off, we have the beginnings of a plan, but nothing concrete. Teller orders everyone but us out of the room once the call ends.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says once we’re alone. “Black Wolves can provide protection. We take care of our own.”
“We appreciate that,” I tell him sincerely. “But this is our mess to clean up.”
“Besides,” Maddox adds, “we’re pretty good at what we do.”
Teller studies us for a long moment. “Tank would be proud of the men you’ve become.” He stands, signaling the end of the meeting. “Keep me updated. Any resources you need, they’re yours.”
Outside, the day has fully bloomed into Saturday brightness, at odds with the darkness we just discussed. My brothers are silent as we walk to our bikes, each processing what we’ve learned.
“We should warn Rowan,” Maddox says suddenly. “If these guys come for us, anyone close could be in danger.”
The thought of Rowan caught in the cross fire makes my stomach turn. “Not yet. No reason to scare her if we can handle this quietly.”
“She’s at the diner alone today,” Ryder points out.
“I’ll head over,” Maddox volunteers too quickly. “Make sure everything’s secure.”
“We’ll all go,” I decide. “Need to check the new security system anyway.”
My mind keeps replaying Matthews’s words as we drive to the diner. Cypher wants us alive. Wants to take his time. I’ve seen the aftermath of his “attention” before—what was left of operatives who crossed him.
I won’t let that happen to my brothers. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone associated with us get caught in the cross fire.
Especially not a certain baker with a gift for wheelies and a smile that’s somehow become essential to my peace of mind.