“Either way, someone’s targeting the college girls. Best we put a couple guys at each of the main bars and clubs for a while and keep our eyes peeled. If we find the fucker, we take him out,” King, my Vice President, spoke up. “If someone sees him roofie another chick, we follow him out. We’ll work in pairs. One makes sure the girl is safe, and the other takes out the trash swiftly.”
Most of my men nodded in agreement, liking King’s plan. My arms crossed in front of me as I sat back against the leather backing of the chair, my head snapping to my left with the sound of Nixon’s voice. “There're more bars and clubs than there are us, King. How are we working the logistics?”
I turned back to my right where King sat and waited for his response. It wasn’t unlike me to sit quietly and listen intently while the club worked through details on what needed to be done. I had overall say, and if I wasn’t on board with a proposal, it didn’t happen. It was important for me to listen toeverythingthat was laid out—to scrutinize each and every detail to determine if ultimately my men would be safe.
After the Sinners agreed with Pops to appoint me as the new club prez, I gave them my word that I’d hold the club to the same standards he did. To keep my men safe and in line. I hadn’t been the VP when the club voted me in. King had held that title for years, but had no interest in being fully in charge. Instead, they’d gone out on a limb and given me their trust. Traditionally speaking, I was all wrong for the position. Hadn’t been in the club long enough, was too young, too new. But still, they’d chosen to vote me in as their prez.
I wouldn’t mess that up.
“We’ll rotate. Hit as many as we can. Visit the more popular ones over the dive bars—go where the women go. See what we see. I have a hunch it won’t take us too long to find this prick.” King’s eyes met mine, and I nodded once with approval. He turned back to the room, addressing the group. “Is this vote unanimous or someone want to challenge it?”
Not a single member challenged the vote.
Pushing up from the chair, I stood and placed my palms down on the smooth wood table, leaning forward. Slowly, I met the eyes of every member of the Sinners Warlord before I concluded. “Let’s find this fucker and put him in the ground.”
CHAPTERSIX
Social media offered me no entertainment as I laid upside down on one of my best friends' beige microfiber couch. My legs curved up the back and draped over the top, while my torso laid on the seat cushions, and my head hung off the edge. My wavy brown hair puddled on the carpet, the blood rushing to my head as I bounced my feet without a care in the world.
Tossing my phone onto the floor, I groaned and dramatically flung my arm over my eyes. “Ugh. I’m so bored, Noah,” I whined, and I heard him scoff from where he sat on the floor beside me.
“Should have gone to Elle’s instead then,” he quipped without looking up from the file he was poring over.
Noah was one of my best friends, and a lieutenant for the Ridgewood Police Department, who was currently balls deep in a case. Paperwork strewn all over his dark cherry wood coffee table, his focus ninety percent on his work, ten percent on me.
I loved Noah like a brother—which really was quite a shame because he sure was pretty to look at—but unless his girlfriend walked into the room I knew his sole priority today would be his job, and I’d be hanging in silent company while I was here. The only thing that could shift his attention was the girl who he’d worked so hard to get to commit to him.
“You knock Lily up yet?” I asked innocently, swinging my legs off the back of the couch to sit up like a normal human. The blood rush to my head was fun for a second, but I had no interest in dealing with a headache for the rest of the day.
My question garnered a glance from Noah, and he blew out a shaky breath. Tucking his hands behind his head, he let the weight of it balance in his crossed palms. “No. No luck yet.”
“It’ll happen,” I told him lightly as I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
Noah turned his head and gave me a pointed look, hurt shining through his eyes. “It’s been months, Rosie, and it hasn’t happened yet. We made appointments with our primary doctors to get started with all the tests, and labs, and shit to figure out why we’re not getting pregnant.”
I was at a loss for words, feeling very awkward because I didn’t have an answer for him. Any words I said would never be the right ones, but falling silent also wasn’t the right approach. This wasn’t a topic I was well versed in, and I honestly wasn’t educated in the process of dealing with infertility, or how to navigate the topic appropriately with someone who was living with it.
So instead, I stayed true to myself and did what I knew would bring one of my favorite people a little comfort.
I threw my arms around him and smashed a big, wet kiss on the side of his face. My lips connected with the spot just above his beard and I held him there obnoxiously hard, making sure to hum a big smoochy sound effect as I did. When I finally released his face, I told him, “You got this.”
It probably wasn’t the right thing to say in hindsight, but he knew what I meant.
Noah glared at me and wiped the spot on his cheek I had kissed, suppressing his smile as he did.
“What are you working on?” I asked, wanting to get his mind off of our current topic. He rarely talked to me about his cases, but I figured it was worth a shot. The worst he could do was deflect.
As he pursed his lips in thought, I knew he was debating whether he should tell me or not. I was a nosey bitch, but when it came to his work, I respected there were things I couldn’t pry out of him. I still didn’t know what he did when he went undercover almost a year ago, and it drove me absolutely batty.
“I can’t really say much,” he told me hesitantly. “But it has to do with the Sinners. How much longer are you stuck with them above Andromeda? I really hate that you are in such close proximity to them all the time.”
“Oh, give me a break. The Sinners are harmless. Buncha modern day Robin Hoods walking old ladies across the road and shit.”
Noah scoffed, obviously not agreeing. Lifting two manila folders from the stack to his left, he shook them in his hand. “Yeah, okay. These files say otherwise.”
I waved my hand in his general direction, brushing it off. “Yeah, yeah. So maybe they’re a little rougher, but they’re harmless as far as I’m concerned. I’m upstairs like four nights a week in Sly’s room. They know better than to fuck with me—not only because I’m with Sly all the time—but because they better be respectful if they want to stay living above my bar.”
“They’re not as innocent as you think they are, Rosie. Something’s definitely going on behind the scenes with them. There are things I can’t talk about, but you promised me you’d be careful when it came to them, remember?”
