Her mind wandered. Was the mysterious man or woman on the wrong side of the law like the men in this bar? A cop turned dirty? Who in their right mind dispensed justice outside of the law and sleep well at night? A lot of whys swirled in her mind until the music stopped for a couple of seconds between songs, and heavy boots thumped behind her. A man leaned on the bar by her elbow.
“I don’t know how I feel having a reporter in my favorite bar. Or having her ask questions she shouldn’t.”
Orla took another sip of beer before turning to her right. The president of the Storm Wayfarers wasn’t a muscle man as she’d imagined, but had more of a swimmer’s frame with his bleached blond mane and goatee. He reminded her of a musketeer. He had an amused twinkle in his eyes, but Orla wasn’t stupid. He might appear approachable, even normal but Damon Evans hadn’t become an MC president while being a nice guy.
“As a reporter, it’s kinda my job.”
The man pursed his lips and nodded. “I know your reputation, Ms. Karlsen. I do read everything that concerns my territory. Chicago is my home.”
“And mine too. So, you can guess why there are things I can tolerate, and others I will fight against.”
The smile was still there, but there was calculation in his eyes. Again, a man in his position had to possess the skills of a politician. “And you’d go so far as to threaten me?”
Now it was her turn to smile. “Me? A mere woman? How could I pose any kind of threat?”
He pulled her card, and placed it on the bar without a word and she took it.
“That is not a threat, Mr. Evans. It’s logic. You think I’m the only one trying to uncover who’ll be distributing this shit? You may be in it for the money, but my motivation is to prevent people from overdosing on it.”
Evans gestured the barman to pour him a shot and downed it as soon as it was placed before him. “You’re digging in a minefield. That... drug. I guess if you came to see me, you’ve heard the rumor we put our cards in the mix. What else do you know?”
“That you lost the bid.”
A corner of his mouth went up. “Yeah. Many groups were battling to get the upper hand. That’s not newsworthy.”
Orla angled her head. “Why do I get the feeling you were relieved to lose?”
The man leaned forward, so close she could smell the vodka on his breath. “You’re playing with fire, Ms. Karlsen, and I strongly suggest you leave and never come back.”
It wasn’t her style, and she pushed her luck by closing in and almost coming nose to nose with the man. “I won’t. I hoped you’d help, and I could’ve put in a good word for your group. You know, when the police take everybody down.”
They were now so close, Orla almost believed he would kiss her. Instead, he licked his lips and leaned back. “Let me think about it, Ms. Karlsen.”
She was about to press him for more when gunfire exploded outside. The crowd reacted as one. Shouts and screams surrounded her. Before she could say anything, Evans grabbed her and swung her over the bar.
As her bones rattled, training and experience took over. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this kind of situation. Half crawling, half crouching, she saw the barmen doing the same as he headed toward another door behind several cases of beers.
Her heart hammering and breathing hard, Orla stumbled out of the bar. Dots danced in front of her eyes when she exited into the chilled air.
Now on the opposite side of the building, as far away as possible from the attack on the front, she took a moment to breathe and try to get her wits back.
It was a struggle, but when her head finally cleared, she looked for an escape route and saw the barrel of a gun aimed at her face.Shit!
Chapter Four
There wasno time for hesitation as Sam jumped from the club’s roof and landed on the sidekick of the man pointing a gun at Orla’s head. He’d been tempted to break that fucker in two first, but the risk of him accidentally pulling the trigger had him switching targets.
There was a sickening crunch when Sam fell on him with his full weight, but he didn’t care. Scumbags like him weren’t much better than bugs. Leaving his victim to suffer, he twisted and landed a kick on the bigger man’s arm, snapping it in two and forcing him to drop his weapon with a yell of pain. Moving fast, he snapped his neck. As the inert body dropped to the ground, Sam turned back to the first man and made sure he’d never draw another breath.
The noise increased in the area, and it was only a question of time before what was happening up front would join them out back. He turned to Orla then.
The woman was on her feet, breathing hard and clearly shaken, but holding onto her determination like a buoy at sea. “I knew you existed and weren’t a figment of everyone’s imagination.”
In full gear, with a high-tech mask hiding his face and head, Sam knew she wouldn’t recognize him anywhere else. The suit was mostly a mix between futuristic soldier and a cat-burglar. Even his voice was protected with a modulator. “Go! It’s not safe to be here.”
But he should have known the reporter in her would be stronger than her self-preservation. Instead of fleeing, she took a step in his direction. “What are you doing here?”
Sam, go now. There are at least ten guys about to reach the corner.
