I climb back on the bike with Crown, even as he’s cursing my name.
They all know that I’m not lying.
I don’t want four husbands who behave like Cat, who keep me locked up for my own good.
What I want, and how I feel, it has to matter or else I can’t stay here.
Crown shoves his own helmet on as Sin grits his teeth and storms back to his own bike, and then, with the violent snarl of all three engines, we continue on into town and toward the five men who were instrumental in carving my already fragile heart to pieces.
We don’t approach the police station directly, but I can see a row of bikes parked just outside of it. Beast, Cat, and whoever else is with them tonight must be inside the brick building already. The question now is: where the fuck are these guys? Men that even Grey seems wary of. Men that cannot still breathe if he wants to take up the Grey Wolfe throne.
We park several blocks away and then use a nearby hotel to gain access to the roof. The employees were wary as fuck until Crown slapped down a credit card and rented a room. We stopped in there first, using the balcony for a better view before heading up an employee staircase to the roof.
The night is darker than normal, the moon’s light diffused by ash and grit, but the city sparkles like it always does, a sea of flickering lights indicative of life and movement. I ignore it all, my gaze focused on the station.
After texting Beast, it seems that we were right: they’re still inside the building.
Pretty ballsy, right? For a one-percenter president to meet his FBI informant inside the police station?
I wonder if this is where Crown used to work? If he misses it. What Grey meant by ‘undercover cop’. I’ll need a moment alone with the vice president in order to get that information. Might even have to let him spank my ass before he’ll give anything that private or intimate up.
“Are we thinking that they’re going to snipe him from a rooftop or something?” I ask, but then I think about Queenie and Posey, how intimate their deaths were. Maybe not.
“I don’t know,” Crown snaps at me, clearly displeased at being here at all. He’s angry with me, and I haven’t heard the end of it just yet. He turns those moss-colored eyes down to mine, a frown traced over his perfect mouth. “I haven’t had time to research any of this. All I’m working with here is an unreliable tip from an untrustworthy brat.”
“Me or Grey?” I quip back, but Crown is not in the mood for my bullshit right now. He ignores the question.
“We should canvass all of the surrounding buildings,” Grainger adds with a deep frown. Ashbury isn’t a big city, but it’s large enough that it would take hours to do what he’s suggesting. Even then, we can’t search every floor of every surrounding building.
“Don’t you feel like a sniper is just too easy?” Sin asks, crossing his arms on the rooftop railing and looking down at the relatively small building where Cat and Beast are currently housed. The jail behind it is massive; it towers over fucking everything, and it’s hideous as shit.
I remember people in town protesting when it was built.
“Cat is always on the lookout for snipers,” Crown agrees as Grainger sighs.
“Yeah, but we have men crawling all over this city.” He gestures with an annoyed hand in the direction of the police station. “Anything but a surprise isn’t going to end well for their side. Either we have a bloodbath here and now, or else this has to be covert.”
I lean over the railing, letting the ashy wind tangle my ponytail up as I try to think my way through this. I’m not the only smart person in this group, obviously. The guys aren’t idiots, but they’re also stuck in their ways sometimes.
That’s when it hits me, in a slow, sickening sort of way.
“What if … the hit is going to happen inside the police station?” I ask, standing up and turning around. I put my arms back against the metal railing for support.
“It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely,” Crown says, but he doesn’t look convinced either way. He swipes a hand over his face. I know this was a lot to ask, for them to trust in this tip, to bring me down here in the first place when it could all be a trap.
“We’re clearly wasting our time up here,” Grainger growls, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Let’s at least try a few of the surrounding buildings; there isn’t much more we can do at this point.”
I stand up and follow the boys back down the staircase to the top floor. Nobody argues because we know Grainger’s right. That’s the best course of action.
