Page 38 of Rebel
“I’ve got everyone reporting back,” Nashville breaks the silence. “So far, no one has seen anything.”
“No bike?” He shakes his head. “Did he come in a cage? He had to have a way to get out of here so fast.”
“Possibly,” Nashville muses.
“Likely,” Blaze says, leaning back.
Nero looks over his shoulder at the screen, and I move around the table to see too. Blaze has access to the city cameras, and on the cusp of the area we have been patrolling each night, we see him.
It’s still hard to see the full patch because of the light, but he gets into a car and pulls out like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.
“Why is he in a car?” Nashville muses, almost to himself.
“Plate?” Nero asks.
“Already checked, it’s stolen.”
“Fuck,” he straightens up and looks at me. “Any idea what club this is?”
“I’m working on it.” Blaze dips his chin at me. “This drawing helps.”
“He didn’t even try to hide it,” I shake my head. What the fuck is this?
We all stand silent for a moment, I’m sure they’re all thinking the same thing I am. If Kinsley hadn’t seen that man outside and come to warn us, we’d never know an unidentified MC has shown up.
“It’s got to be Storm,” Nashville says.
I nearly give a sarcastic response, but he’s just thinking out loud as we all try to get our heads around what this could mean. It’s Nero who finally voices it.
“That bastard has joined another MC. And he’s brought them into our city.”
“Just when you think shit couldn’t get any worse,” Nashville blows out a heavy sigh.
His phone rings, and he checks the display, then silences it. It’s probably Charley. His face gets tense, but club business comes before everything. I’m glad he still has his priorities in place.
“Fuck.”
“What?” Nero turns back to Blaze, and I take a step closer to look at the screen.
“Things didn’t get worse,” Blaze sits back and looks up at Nero. “They went nuclear.”
Chapter Eleven
Kinsley
Colt asked Patrick to take Marisol home rather than her walking for the bus, as she usually does. He framed it that he didn’t want her to get soaked, but that’s not the real reason. We were all there when Rebel said to lock up early and wait until morning to find out what is going on.
“Will he tell you what’s going on?” I ask, looking out of the window.
Colton’s private living area is at the back of the church. There is a pretty garden at the back currently turning into a muddy mess. I sit on the window bench and look outside.
“No,” he says, setting a glass of wine down on the windowsill. He takes a sip of his own.
Usually, I would have quipped about him drinking alcohol, but we both need it.
“That’s bullsh… crap.”
“Epic save,” he takes a seat opposite me on the bench. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
