Page 190 of Colt

“It won’t be cheap,” I advised him, walking around the room, and touching the shiny new gavel and sound block, which had been placed on the table. “I’ll do the work for ya, but you’re lookin’ at about fifty grands worth of equipment to kit this place out. It’s so fuckin’ big you’ll be payin’ through the nose to get cameras everywhere.”

“I can do that,” he muttered. “All the scratch we earn goes back into the club for now. The men I’ve got are either workin’ a nine-to-five or livin’ off their military pensions. I feed and house ‘em for nothing until January. That’s when we start payin’ ‘em.”

My head reared back. “They’re workin’ for nothin’?”

“Right now, they get paid per job and I cover their room and board,” he advised me. “They’re good with it.” He motioned toward the table for me to sit.

“How’s business?” I asked, sliding into the chair next to his.

“Gettin’ there,” he said thoughtfully. “We’re gettin’ known in security circles. I gotta few buds who worked as bodyguards, so we’ve been lucky there. We’re openin’ a bar and a tattoo shop in the summer. My only issue is our government contract.”

My brow furrowed. “Tell me.”

“My contact at the FBI went cold. We were promised jobs that never materialized. Most of the men here were specialists in their field at whatever military branch they were in. We’ve got pilots, Marines, Rangers, Scouts. We’ve got weapons specialists and bomb disposal. They’re itchin’ to get out into the field, but we’re bein’ blocked somewhere along the way.”

I sat back in my chair, awareness dawning on me. “You want me to call my contact? Pull some strings?”

“No, Colt,” he muttered. “What I want is for you to be our handler at the FBI.”

I froze, lost for words as Hendrix continued. “When Dagger told me about your new job I got to thinkin’. Why don’t you patch into my chapter? Your computer skills are second to none. You’ve got contacts at the FBI. You know how things work, and more importantly, I trust you.”

I held up a hand to stop him. “Whoa, Drix. Back up a bit. We both know cops and MCs don’t mix. I had to leave Wyoming to become a Fed. Are you sayin’ you and your boys are good with it?”

Drix sat back in his chair, arm leisurely flung across the back. “One’a my boys is a cop, his dad was too, and his grandpa was CIA. I’ve got a guy whose dad was Secret Service, and I gotta retired detective. We’re all ex-military, Colt. We’re built differently from Wyoming. My club’s different. Jesus, we’ve even got an ex-vet trauma surgeon.” His expression softened. “I don’t care about you and Freya. In fact, I’d love her to come here with her skills. We’re growin’, Colt. All my officers are in place, except for one.” He grinned. “I need a tech man and there’s nobody better than you.”

“But I’ll be workin’,” I argued. “I’ll be a fuckin’ Fed. Don’t you get it?”

“It’s you who’s not getting’ it, brother,” Drix pointed out. “Go to your boss. You tell him you wanna be our handler. You’ll be our liaison to the powers that be in D.C. I want you to be the man who organizes us and helps us plan and strategize. In your downtime you’ll be here as my officer and my brother.”

I stared at him open-mouthed, not quite believing what I was hearing.

If I did this, I’d be a Demon again, but the difference was, I wouldn’t have to hide Freya.

Drix was giving me an opportunity to have everything I wanted. Interesting work, challenges, but also a link to the MC that I’d missed ever since I left Wyoming. I’d be based here, with the club, and still have access to all the information I’d need through my FBI work.

It was a dream come true.

But could I swing it?

“What do ya say, Colt,” Hendrix asked. “Are you in?”

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and clicked on Shepherd’s number, before putting it onto speaker and shooting Hendrix a knowing smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Freya ~ March 31st

A tear ran down my face as my finger trailed over the baby’s button nose and rosebud-pink lips. “She’s beautiful,” I whispered, heart squeezing with love for the new addition to the Speed Demons’ family. I tucked a finger under her tiny white hat. “And all that beautiful dark hair.”

Atlas let out a curse, pulling the baby away from me. “Did ya wash ya fuckin’ hands? Don’t want her gettin’ your germs.”

“Oh my God, Danny,” Sophie snapped. “Will you please let somebody else hold her?”

“No!” He huffed, looking at his wife like she was crazy. “She’s mine. I’m puttin’ her in one’a them baby carrier chest contraptions and she’s comin’ everywhere with me. I’ll feed her, change her ass, and put her in a popper outfit. All you need to do is squirt her milk into a bottle for me and rest up.”

I covered my smile with my hand.

Atlas had been an overprotective husband in the last few weeks of Sophie’s pregnancy, to the extent that he’d even carried her up and down the stairs in case she tripped, that was when he let her go up and down stairs. All that protectiveness had transferred to his daughter because he wouldn’t give her up.

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