Captain #2
Captain stood and walked toward the large map mounted on the wall.
Colored pins marked the Grave Prowlers' businesses, known hangouts, and stretches of road they watched closely.
He tapped one finger against the Chesapeake Bay.
"A woman spends two hours watching our docks and runs the second she sees our prospects.
Now, she refuses to tell us why." He turned toward Ruin.
"That doesn't tell me she's our problem; it tells me that she is someone else’s problem. "
Silence settled over the table. Warden's voice echoed from the hallway before he appeared in the doorway. "Peak's talking to her now."
Captain nodded. "How's she acting?"
"Like she's not scared at all," Warden said.
Captain almost smiled. "Everybody's scared of something."
"Not her,” Warden grumbled.
Captain rubbed his jaw. "She's just hiding it better than most."
Warden crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I don't trust her."
"I wouldn't expect you to,” Captain said. Warden didn’t trust anyone. It was what made him a damn good Enforcer.
"I think we should cut her loose,” Warden admitted.
Captain raised an eyebrow. "That's surprisingly merciful coming from you."
"I'm not being merciful." Warden's expression hardened. "If she's lying, she'll lead whoever she's running from away from us."
"And if she's telling the truth?" Captain asked.
"Then somebody dangerous is already looking for her, and we’re already mixed up in her mess,” Warden said.
Captain looked at him. "Exactly."
Before either man could say another word, one of the prospects burst through the front door. "Prez!"
Captain turned. The kid was breathing hard and had trouble written all over his face. "What?"
"We got company." Every chair scraped across the floor. Captain walked outside without rushing because a president never hurried. The rest of the club followed.
The night air carried the scent of saltwater and rain as Captain stepped onto the porch.
Three motorcycles sat at the end of the gravel drive.
Their riders hadn't crossed onto club property—yet.
Each wore black kuttes with a patch Captain had never seen before.
A silver compass with crossed knives over it.
The words Black Tide MC were stitched across the top rocker.
Captain had been around long enough to know every club within a hundred miles, and he'd never heard of Black Tide.
"Visitors?" Ruin muttered.
"Or scouts,” Captain said as he watched the three bikers remove their helmets. None of them looked older than thirty-five. The one in the middle climbed off his bike first.
He spread his hands away from his body. "We're not here for trouble."
Captain remained on the porch. "Funny, but most people say hello first. But then again, most people don't stop outside my clubhouse after dark."
The biker's smile faded. "We're looking for a woman." He had a sick feeling that they were looking for the woman he had locked up in his warehouse.
Captain folded his arms across his chest. "Aren't we all?"
The man didn't appreciate the joke. "She has dark hair," Captain said nothing. "Green eyes, and her name is Jezebel.” He heard Warden quietly crack his knuckles as the spokesman continued. "She stole something that belongs to our boss."
Captain's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"
The biker hesitated just long enough to tell Captain the answer wasn't something he wanted repeated. "That’s our business."
Captain chuckled, low and dangerous. "I've been doing this a long damn time.
" He stepped off the porch and onto the gravel, stopping just inside the edge of Grave Prowler’s territory.
"You know what I think?" The biker didn't answer.
"I think if a woman managed to steal from your boss, then you boys ought to find yourselves a new place to work.” Captain smiled without humor.
Several Grave Prowlers laughed behind him, but the Black Tide riders didn't.
Their spokesman's jaw tightened. "If she's here, we want her back."
Captain's smile disappeared. "You don't get to tell me what I do on my property."
The rider took one slow step forward. "So that's a yes. She’s here."
"No, she’s not,” Captain said. Technically, she wasn’t there—she was at the warehouse about five miles down the road, but he wasn’t about to get into semantics with the asshole who was currently staring him down.
"Now, how about you get the hell off my road before this conversation ends with your brothers loading you into saddlebags." The air became painfully still, and neither side moved.
Finally, the spokesman nodded. "This isn't over."
Captain shrugged. "Didn’t expect it to be." The three riders climbed back onto their motorcycles. The engines roared to life before they turned around and disappeared into the darkness. Captain didn't move until their taillights vanished, and only then did he look toward Warden.
"Get two brothers on the gate,” he ordered.
Warden nodded. "Already on it."
Captain turned to Ruin. "Call Delaware. I need to talk to Boggs."
"You think their club is connected to all this?" Ruin asked.
"I think if a brand-new club just showed up asking for the woman sitting in my storage room, then whatever she knows is a hell of a lot bigger than she’ll ever admit. I’m betting that we’ll need the Delaware chapter involved in this mess."
He started toward his bike, and Ruin stopped him. “Where are you going, Cap?” he asked.
“Peak’s time is up. I’m going to talk to Jezebel and find out why our unwanted guest asked for me by name.” He mounted his bike and started it up, letting the roar of the engine soothe him the way that it always did. He was going to get some answers, one way or another.