Page 23 of Petty's Crime

Me: What?

Red: Roller will update you once you get there

Me: Is this urgent?

Red: Urgent and fucking important.

Shit.

What the fuck’s happened? My first thoughts are about RoseLyn. Not that I have any particular interest in her, but she’s my mark and I’m supposed to be keeping her safe. With the club’s expansion of its security business, if we lose a client who we’re protecting, I can’t see a glowing recommendation coming our way.

I’m still frowning down at my phone as I tell Britney, “Hey, I’ve got to go out.”

“What?”

Engrossed in my thoughts about what could have happened and hoping I’m not going to arrive to find RoseLyn injured or dead, I’m distracted and not giving her my full attention.

“It’s work. Sorry, Brit, but I’ve got to leave now.” I pat my pocket to make sure I’ve got the key to the SUV and start to walk to the door where my cut is hanging. My arm is yanked back and my face suddenly stings with a resounding slap.

“You told me you have tonight off,” she shouts at me. “You’re going to that bitch instead?”

I’ve told her about my work, that I’ll be out five evenings a week. I explained all about the job I was doing. Ruefully, I rub my cheek. “What the fuck, Brit?”

“That’s right. You walk away when we’ve not even gotten settled. You go back to the woman you replaced me with. Drop everything when she texts, why don’t you?”

I hold out my hands palms up, trying to keep calm. “First, it wasn’t her who texted me. It was my fuckin’ prez. I can’t ignore him. I’ve got to go. And I’ve no time to argue with you.”

Her eyes blaze. “I don’t care who texted you. It could have been the president of the United States, but you’ve got shit to do here. I need you.”

For fuck’s sake.“I can’t do this now, Brit. I’ve got to go.” I complete the few steps it takes to cross the small apartment and grab my cut off the hook. “I’ll see you later.” Without waiting for a response, I open the door, close it, then wince as I hear something thud against the wood.

Taking a second I can’t really spare, I rest my face in my hands. Then after taking a deep breath, straighten my back, and take the stairs at a run to get down to the SUV, wishing like fuck it was my bike.

Trying to push Britney out of my mind, I try to concentrate on what could have happened to RoseLyn instead. I might not like the woman I’m paid to protect, but in this moment, I care about her more than I do my wife I just left.

Having been anticipating the worst, I’m relieved when I pull up outside RoseLyn’s house to find no red and blue flashing lights. I do, however, see a fuckload of bikes and realise I wasn’t the only one called in. Despite the hot sun beating down, for some reason, my brothers are wearing full leathers and gloves.

RoseLyn’s rental is parked on the drive and as I park alongside, I see the woman herself sitting in the front seat, engine running and windows shut tight.

Wondering what the fuck’s going on and preferring to hear it from a brother rather than being forced into conversation with her, I get out and wave my hand as I see Roller step out of the house.

Like the others, he’s wearing a full-face helmet with the visor firmly down, and is carrying a sack held away from his body.

Still no clearer on what’s going on, I watch as he goes to a truck and throws the sack into it. I intercept him before he returns to the house.

“What the fuck, Brother?”

Acknowledging my presence, Roller removes his helmet and shakes his hair out. I notice he’s looking decidedly pale. “You okay?” My concern is genuine.

He shakes his head, then inclines it toward the truck. Mystified, I follow him over. There are half a dozen firmly tied sacks which for the moment make me no wiser until I realise they’re moving, and there’s an odd rattling sound coming from them.

Once my brain computes what the noise might be, I automatically leap back. “What the fuck?” I repeat and waggle an unsteady hand toward the live cargo. “Are those snakes?”

“Someone put them through the vent in her house,” Roller says tersely. “I don’t like them, but she’s fuckin’ terrified, Petty.”

Snakes?

He stares pointedly at me. “Saul knows she has a phobia.”

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