CHAPTER EIGHT ZOINKS, DICKWAD
CHAPTER EIGHT
ZOINKS, DICKWAD
RHYS
Ihad a lot of shit to do.
With Rye closed for the week instead of just the usual Sunday and Monday, I could do all the crap I never had time for. I could touch-up the paint. Reorganize behind the bar. Completely redo the inventory system to make it smoother.
Hell, I could just get caught up on all the paperwork without getting interrupted by a million disasters.
I didn’t do any of that.
As some Court of Mayhem brothers worked in and out of the building, I sat at my desk and stared at the damn open door.
Waiting.
No.
Anticipating.
The pretty detective had messaged that morning to ask what time she should come in since we hadn’t set anything specific. I had no doubt she would be there right exactly at one, but that didn’t stop me from going alert at every noise.
It was a helluva lot of distraction for a very temporary situation.
She would likely hang out for a week or so before seeing there was no Scooby-Doo mystery to solve.
She could reassure whoever that there was nothing more to the random act of potential violence, and that would be it.
She would move on, and I could get back to dealing with the chaos of being a bar owner.
Chaos that involved flaky staff, late deliveries, and drunken fights…
Not flying bullets.
Or uptight detectives in boxy suits.
Running my palm down my face, I let out a frustrated groan before pushing my chair away from the work I hadn’t put a dent in. I stood and headed out to the main room. Could say it was to check on the progress, but even I knew that was bullshit.
I lifted my chin at Haze as he stood near the stage in the corner. I didn’t recognize the prospect working alongside him, but that was what happened when I had no free time for rides or parties at the clubhouse.
Meeting Glitch in the center of the room, I asked, “How’s it going?”
He looked up from the tablet in his hold, his jaw clenched like he was considering throwing the thing across the room. His tone and forced smile were loaded with sarcasm. “Livin’ the fuckin’ dream.”
I tilted my head. “That bad? ’Cause the last guy who ran the software updates was a know-it-all dickwad.”
He flipped me off since he was that know-it-all dickwad—a name I stood by.
The motorcycle club had their hands in a lot of pots—or their bikes on a lot of roads. Their real skill was helping the vulnerable escape shitty situations. But to keep that funded and possible—not to mention pay their own bills—they worked together to run a security company.
MayCo was in-demand, and a big part of that was Glitch’s tech know-how. If he was frustrated, it must’ve been bad.
I was about to ask for details when he put his finger to his mouth, jerked his chin toward the front door, and started walking in that direction. I followed, wondering if there was something he didn’t want the other two brothers to overhear.
He was close with Haze.
Hell, everyone was close with Haze. He was a likable kid.
It could’ve been the prospect he was being cautious around.
If that was the case, he wouldn’t be a prospect by the end of the day. Brothers needed to be able to trust each other with their lives and the lives of the people they helped.
My assumption was only half right. Glitch was being cagey, but not because of either man. He stopped us near the entryway and explained, “They’re still sweeping over there, but we’re clear here.”
Neither man held a broom, but that wasn’t what he meant. It was routine for them to sweep for bugs for their high-profile clients and themselves. Their clubhouse. Their houses. Cars. Bikes. Everything.
A certain fake-ass cunt’s betrayal made the group paranoid.
Usually, it was a step they skipped with me since my business was firmly on the lawful side of shit, but a drive-by called for increased vigilance.
“They find anything?” I asked.
“Not yet. And I’m still on the first damn camera.” He tapped the screen before turning it to face me.
The angle showed the other side of the door we stood next to, and it looked fine to me. I opened my mouth to ask what the issue was when someone walked by.
Kind of.
Because the footage only showed halting steps before whoever disappeared.
“Either they’re buffering…” I started.
“Or the cameras are slow as shit.”
“Better ways to honor yourself in your work than by making everything glitch, Glitch.”
He shot me a glare. “How long has the quality been like this?”
“No clue. Don’t check it.”
His head went back, and he looked offended that his handiwork went unused.
“When shit happens, there’s no need to run the footage. I’m always here. That means I’m always around to see it live.”
“You didn’t check after you were shot at?”
“Cops took everything and said none of the angles caught it.”
“You would think they’d have let you know that the quality was right up there with a dial-up modem running the internet from a free AOL disc.”
“They probably assumed that was how it normally ran.”
“Insulted. I’m fuckin’ insulted.” Glitch ran his hand over his tattooed head. “The plan was to run some updates, maybe add a new camera or two to cover more of the block, and that should’ve been it. But now I need to troubleshoot before I attempt to add anything else.”
“Am I still on track to reopen Friday?”
Covering the lost wages for the week with nothing coming in meant I was hemorrhaging money.
I could do it for a stretch without feeling the pain, but anything longer than a few weeks was gonna make shit tough.
Especially if my employees were using that paid hiatus to line up new jobs that didn’t involve bullets and cops.
“Should be.” Glitch hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “This’ll likely mean getting into the walls to upgrade some wiring. That cool?”
“Can you make it faulty enough to torch the place but good enough to look like an accident to an arson investigator?”
“Yes,” he answered instantly. No smile. No joke. Nothing but the truth. Especially when he added, “But you’d be better off having Beck do it.”
Beck, who worked for our buddy Nox, specialized in fire. I would say it was his job, but it wasn’t work when he loved what he did.
And that crazy motherfucker really loved it.
“I’ll pass.” I gestured to the bar and shelving behind it. “If I let him loose with matches, this wouldn’t be the only wood going up.”
“Fuckin’ hell.” Glitch’s grimace returned to frustration as he gestured to the men across the room. “Wrap up this room.”
“Got it,” Haze called back.
“You quitting already?”
“I need more of my equipment to deal with this. Don’t go spilling your secret hopes and dreams in any of the other rooms since we haven’t confirmed no one is listening.”
“Course not. That’s what my diary is for.”
“Unicorn cover?”
“And a shit-ton of glitter.”
Glitch opened his mouth to say something, but movement on his screen caught his attention. Brows lowered, he muttered, “What the hell?”
My gut clenched, expecting the worst as I shifted to look over his shoulder.
That tension threatened to settle somewhere lower.
It didn’t matter that I could only see the bottom half of the woman standing near the curb with her body faced away. I recognized the rounded ass.
A rounded ass that began swaying in barely perceptible movements. Small circles. Hip shakes. Subtle bouncing.
Even as the footage skipped and stuttered, the movement was enough to have me fighting a hard-on for my new employee.
“Someone you know?” Glitch asked.
Mayhem was aware of the entire situation, including the undercover aspect. They caught a lot of whispers doing what they did, so being in the know would allow them to keep an ear out if shit was gonna go sideways.
“That’d be the detective,” I said.
“That’s her?” He shook his head. “I can think of a few brothers who’d like to turn themselves in for jaywalking.”
“You’re a taken man.”
He gave me a dopey, lovesick smile that said he knew that and was damn happy about it. “Didn’t say I was one of them.”
The impulsive order pushed from my mouth before I could control it—and that was exactly the fuckin’ problem. “Put the word out that she’s off-limits. Sooner she sees there’s nothing here, sooner she’s gone. I don’t want her finding a reason to stick around longer.”
“That the only reason?”
No.
“Yeah.”
He lifted his shoulder. “I’ll tell them. Can’t guarantee they’ll listen.”
I glanced down at the screen just as she did a small gyrating turn that moved her closer to the door. The video smoothed out long enough that we could see her mouth moving.
“What is she doing?” he asked.
“I think she’s singing. Or hyping herself up.”
Real question is whether it’s the case that has her intimidated…
Or me.
Glitch raised his focus from the screen to look at me. “This is gonna be fun.”
“It’s gonna be nothing,” I corrected.
“Why not? Seems like the perfect distraction since she’s just here temporarily.”
There was not a damn thing perfect about the kind of distraction she would be—if I let her.
I wouldn’t. She would just be something pretty in my space that I would ignore.
Easy.
Unless she kept shaking that thick ass.