Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I stare down at him. He clutches his backpack to his chest as if that can protect him.
“I hope this is his phone, or when I come back, I’m gonna put a bullet in your head. Then where will your mother be?”
“Jesus, Poet.” Ryder starts laughing, making Brodie look as though he might throw up. “Don’t sugarcoat it for the kid.”
“You have nothing to worry about. That’s my dad’s phone.”
“Good,” I say, nodding to Sydney as I pass. She winks. Her tray is loaded up with the beers and my water, which I snag.
“Poet,” she scolds. “I could have dropped the whole tray.”
“But you didn’t,” I call over my shoulder as I head straight for the office.
After I punch in the code, the door opens to our expensive monitoring equipment. Frosty sits at the main chair and watches the four flat screens. Our cameras pick up everything, even conversations.
“Let’s see it, Poet.” Frosty, swivels around. He’s the best hacker I know. I trust him, well, as much as I trust anyone. He’s another brother who has been in the club since birth.
“I hope this is what the kid says it is.”
I hand him the phone, looking at a camera that’s on Brodie. Ryder seems to be on his phone while Edge drinks. “I don’t want to have to kill him.”
Frosty starts chuckling as he sips a can of Coke.
“Let’s take a look.” He plugs it into his side monitor and starts downloading all the information. Numbers, which I’m positive are all gone by now, spin by like those on a slot machine.
“Hold on.” He reaches for his bag and pulls out a private keyboard. A couple of clicks and we hear a voice.
“Fuck.” I rub my hands up and down my face. Suddenly, I’m tired and we just began.
“Does it match?” I growl, my pulse pounding in my temples. The dark room glows with the lights of the screens.
“Yeah, man. Listen. This is Roach’s voice.”
He starts tapping on his computer. “Listen, this is him speaking at a funeral for one of the Satan’s Seeds.” The voice fills the dark room and I exhale. “I want a copy now, and this does not leave this room.”
He looks up at me like I’m crazy. “Of course. I can download all the texts.”
He pulls another wire out of a bag and plugs it in. “As far as all the deleted stuff, like deleted voice messages, emails, and texts, you need to give me a day or so.” His fingers remind me of a concert pianist as they glide over the keys. “It all depends on how old this phone is.”
“Just load up what you can for me now.”
He nods. “I got you, man.”
For a second, he stops to stare at the one TV that has a couple of drunk men fighting. The bouncers are Disciples prospects.
“Let me see your phone.”
I pull the burner out of my back pocket and hand it over as he plugs it into his computer.
“Everything that is on that phone is now in a file on your phone.”
“Just call when everything is ready.”
He swivels around to face me. “Poet?” His voice stops me.
“Yeah?”
“This is it, man. We’re gonna get these pieces of shit. I have a good feeling about this.” His usual calm, even slightly bored gaze comes alive as he stares at the numerous codes that come up as he types.
“Thanks, brother.”
Shutting the door behind me, I head back. I know in my gut that Satan’s Seeds is the club that blew up our lab. But they needed to have a rat. This is who needs to die, this is someone who had the location, the time. This person knew that all the head officers were going to be there.
As soon as I get to the table, I know something is wrong, and it has nothing to do with pale-faced Brodie who is nervously tapping his thumb on the table.
“Pay him,” I tell Edge.
“And, Brodie?”
He grabs the money wrapped in aluminum foil and barely glances at it as he tosses it into his backpack. “Yeah?” The color is returning to his face.
“Be careful, kid. Don’t trust anyone. I don’t need to tell you what they would do to you and your mother if they find that you’re talking to me.”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m at school. It’s my mom.”
He rubs his hand up and down his jeans almost as if he has a nervous tic. “At least she’s clueless.” His eyes fill with tears.
“She still thinks they’re her family even though all the pigs do is come over and fuck her and leave. Take them down. I’m counting on you guys.”
He moves around me to leave. I let him. He has his own demons to tackle.
“I hope he’s smart.” It takes one sloppy move to get yourself killed. The MCs don’t take kindly to traitors.