Page 28 of Colt

“How about that drink?” He gestured across the street. “There’s a bar there. What do you say? You with me?”

My shoulders slumped. “I guess I don’t gotta fuckin’ choice.”

Shepherd laughed, nodding toward the bar across the street. “I remember when you first came to Intelligence. Talked all nice and proper. Now you sound like a thug. You’ve been with that biker gang too long.”

“Ain’t a gang,” I retorted, starting for the bar. “We’re just a group of men who like to ride. The Demons are businessmen, not outlaws. You don’t got a clue about my club.”

Shepherd checked the road for cars before we headed across the street. “I know your club’s mainly on the right side of the law now, but it didn’t used to be. Bandit Stone was a fucking lunatic. It’s only been the last ten or so years that you’ve been legit. I wonder how legit, though, seeing as you’re hacking every law enforcement agency you can crack. You’ve left yourself wide open this time.”

My gut twisted.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’d been looking for the vehicle involved in the chase for the last twenty-four hours by dipping a toe into a few databases and testing the waters. I was positive I hadn’t left a trail. Maybe Shepherd was bluffing. Either way, I wasn’t about to admit shit.

“Don’t gotta clue what you’re talkin’ about. I’m in Colorado to help out a military veteran the club sponsors.” I opened the door to the bar, gesturing for Shepherd to go first. “Gotta do better if you’re tryin’ to pin your bullshit on me.” I nodded toward the counter. “Beers are on you.”

“You’re richer than the Queen of England,” Shepherd bandied back.

“I’d say considerably. But you dragged me here, asshole. The FB—fuckin’—I can pick up the tab.”

I made my way to a row of booths on the left wall, taking the seat farthest away from the bar. If this was gonna go the way I thought, I didn’t want anyone overhearing shit.

Sweat clung to my back, and I pulled my tee away, telling myself to calm the fuck down. A SWAT team would be knocking on my door if the intent was to take me in. So I wondered what this little meet-up was all about.

I sucked in a breath, trying to steady my heart rate.

Adrenaline served a purpose. I used it to focus on keeping my mind clear. If talking was all Shep wanted to do, I’d need to have my wits about me. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t snuck out of Freya’s place yesterday. I’d have done anything to be with her rather than sitting in a run-down bar, wondering if I was about to get busted.

The Feds had been actively trying to recruit me since the day I popped smoke. I’d been careful as all hell to cover my tracks; they’d already recruited a bud of mine against his will. They’d built an entire case against him and threatened the poor dude with life in prison unless he joined the ranks.

Needless to say, he chose the agency.

A bottle of Bud hit the table. “Assuming you still drink that,” Shepherd muttered, sitting opposite. He took his cell phone from his inside pocket and placed it on the table.

“You waitin’ for a call?” I enquired, taking a nonchalant swig of beer.

“Maybe.” He put his own bottle to his mouth, his calculating eyes never leaving mine.

I held his stare. I’d learned a long time ago to never show fear, especially to men like Shep. We’d been good buds back in the day. I’d even go so far as to say I liked him, but I liked my MC brothers more. My loyalties lay with my club, not the pigs.

“Do you remember that time I deciphered code incorrectly and nearly got an entire marine unit blown up in Iraq?” he asked, tone low.

I nodded, taking another swig of my beer. “Thank God you had me to save the day.”

“Yeah,” he concurred. “I couldn't have lived with myself if those men had died. It wasn’t about getting court-martialed or even demoted. Those men’s deaths would’ve been on my hands.”

“I think about that day a lot,” I said quietly. “The Iraqi Government had terrorist links. That code was designed to fool us. You shouldn’t take that shit on.”

“Not gonna take it on because I don’t need to.” Shep sat back in his seat, eyeing me carefully. “You did me a good turn back then, so I’m gonna do one for you now. The agency wants you, Colt. They’ve wanted you in since the day you left Intelligence. They won’t let it go, and because you’re tapping into our database, you’ve put yourself on their radar and given them leverage.”

Ice ran through my veins. I tightened my fingers around my beer to hide the telltale shake. “Go on.”

Shep shot me a sympathetic look. “You must’ve known it wouldn’t last forever, Colt. They’ve been waiting a long time to catch you out, looking for your weak spot. They’ve been digging and got info on your club. There was no way they’d let you go your entire life, wasting your talent in an MC. The second you joined the Speed Demons, your days were numbered. You’re too big a threat.”

My skin prickled. “What have they got on my club?”

“Robert Henderson the Fourth died of suicide just over a year ago. His father, the mayor, has friends in high places. He’s like a dog with a bone and won’t let his son’s death go. The local law enforcement is under pressure to open the case back up. It can go one of two ways. The FBI can either bury it, or they can come down and arrest all your club officers under the RICO Act. Several members were there at the time. They all gave evidence.”

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