"We took it out of his leg," Ransom says, pointing to the guy's bloody pants. He's got a hole in the upper thigh that fits what Trinity described.

I nod at Rock.

Ransom kicks the chair. "Sit up," he barks as he pushes the guy forward. "No ink. He ain't Viper."

Well, he's got ink. But not the back piece every patched-in Viper sports. Ransom texts a "before" photo to me and I send it to Trin.

Walking up to the guy, I kick his leg. "You touch my girl?"

"Didn't know" he trails off.

"Eduardo, right?" Ransom nods at me. "I know that's not true. You told her you recognized her from the fight a couple months back."

He's got no answer. He does piss himself. Geez. Here I've been so calm and mild-mannered.

Trin replies to me.

I'm pretty sure that's him.

"She's not one hundred percent," I tell Rock. My gaze shifts to Ransom. "She didn't stop to get a good look, with her being attacked and all."

He holds up his hands. "I understand. I'll wait outside if you want to question him."

Ransom steps out. I don't think for a second we're not being monitored.

Crouching down, I poke at Eduardo until he meets my eyes. "Someone put you up to it?"

He shakes his head then jerks it toward the door. "Mary."

"What?"

"Mary-ella."

I glance at Rock. "Who the fuck is that?"

"How would I know?"

"My girl's name is Trinity. The blonde. Why'd you go after her?"

He shakes and drools.

"He's fuckin' useless, Rock," Z mutters.

Rock settles his hand on my shoulder. "You good?"

"No. But there's not much more to be done here. There's no justice in killing a half-dead fucker who can't defend himself." I'm still not entirely sure this pathetic fuck had anything to do with Trinity's attack. I may be a thug, but even I won't cross certain lines.

He shakes his head. Before we make another move, Ransom and his sergeant-at-arms, Killa, pop back in the room.

Ransom raises his eyebrows at us.

"We're good." Good as we're going to be considering these assholes robbed me of the payback I'd been looking for.

He smiles as if this isn't a fucking disgusting, shitty situation and nods at Rock. "Can we talk business before you go?"

"Sure." Rock sounds neutral, but I know him well enough to know he'd rather do anything but.

He leads us upstairs. Rock steps into the living room and a girl who's eighteen if she's a fuckin' day takes one look at us, lets out a short scream, and runs into the kitchen.

"Finish it," Ransom says behind us. Few seconds later, there's a muffled shot from the basement.

At least that's one less body on my conscience. I'm still not convinced this wasn't some sort of initiation suggested by Ransom or one of his officers. I'll happily wipe each one of them off the face of the planet. Eduardo got the idea that shit was okay from somewhere.

"You can call your other guys in, Rock," Ransom suggests. Yeah, just what we need.

Ransom and Rock sit down together at the kitchen table. I take up the space behind Rock's back and keep my eye on the room. Killa stands behind Ransom and keeps his eyes on our crew.

I'm not insulted. I'm doing the same.

"I got customers who want some green, but I can't touch any in this area," Ransom starts off. He doesn't fuck around with small talk, something I know Rock appreciates.

"GSC won't sell to you?"

Ransom snorts. "Not without a hefty mark-up."

Rock glances over at Z, who took up the seat to Rock's left, before answering. "I'll be honest, we're tapped out right now. How much are you looking for and how often?"

Ransom names an absurd amount and Rock immediately shakes his head. "We can do maybe a quarter of that, but not for three to four months." Rock holds up his hand. "And that wouldn't change our agreement. No fuckin' meth in Empire."

Ransom shrugs. "There ain't much of a market for it anymore, anyway."

Normally I'd say that's good news. Except Ransom's lying through his teeth. The two meth labs he's got set up on either side of this building suggest business is booming.

"There's no decent clubs left in the area, you know," Ransom says. I guess we've moved on to his other topic of conversation. "I got two girls who'd like to work a Crystal Ball-"

"Open a club out here." Rock says, cutting that idea off.

"You know everyone crosses the bridge for that shit."

Rock shrugs. "Open one closer to Vermont."

"Got no juice for zoning."

"What do you want me to say? Last time your girls worked there, they were turning tricks. That shit doesn't go on in our club."

Ransom's face doesn't change much, but he's clearly pissed. "First, that was under our old leadership. Second, you know damn well that shit goes on all the time."

"Any of our girls get caught, they get canned. I don't need Vice sticking their nose in our business. Same for drugs."

Ransom cocks his head like he thinks Rock's full of shit.

Z pipes up. "We just did extensive drug-testing and fired a bunch of people."

"My girls are clean. I'll send them for whatever tests you want."

Rock turns to Z. "We need any new girls?"

Z shrugs. "We can always use fresh talent."

"Your girls dancin' 'cause they want to or you forcing them to?" Rock's tone borders on disrespectful and Killa raises an eyebrow.

Don't even think about it, cocksucker.

Ransom doesn't seem to care one way or another. "Gabby's got a kid to support. Her ol' man's locked up." Club should be supportin' her and the kid if he's locked up over something he did for them, but whatever. No one asked for my opinion.

"Mariella just wants to save up for a BMW," Ransom says with a chuckle.

Mariella. None of us show it, but I know each one of us reacted to hearing the name.

"You sure you're okay with that, Rock?" Z asks when we're back on the road.

"No, I'm not fuckin' all right with it. I'm trying to keep the fuckin' peace, though. We keep callin' him a liar ain't helpful." Rock stops his rant long enough to glance at Z in the rear view. "You okay with it? You're the one who's gonna have to keep an eye on them." This is Rock's not-so-subtle way of telling Z he's not spending any more time at CB than he needs to.

"Yeah. Only giving them one or two afternoon shifts. I ain't bumping our regular girls to make room for these two."

Rock inclines his head my way. "You satisfied with how this went down?"

"No. Not at all. Something's off about the whole thing. The way he already had the guy beat half to death. The way he was all prepared to talk business after." I shake my head. "Feel like we got lured down here and bent over. Sure as fuck not happy about letting their girls in our club. You know if Loco gets wind of us selling our weed to Vipers, he'll go ballistic."

Rock sighs and grips the steering wheel tighter. "You're right on all counts. We need more bodies. Bull and Steer said they'd both stick around for the week and help out at CB, but I can't see Sway lettin' two of his officers hang here indefinitely."

"Call some nomads in. Iron Jim's had interest for a while now," I suggest. He's a scary fuck. Perfect to station down at CB.

"Yeah, okay."

Z's phone buzzes and he taps me on the shoulder. "Trin's patch won't be ready for two weeks."

I turn and face him. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Haven't I waited long enough?

"No. Patty had a heart attack. Her daughter came up to take over the shop, but she's backed up."

"Yeah, well why don't you take your pretty-boy face down there and charm her into moving your favorite brother to the top of her list?"

He screws his face into mock-disgust. "Have you seen Patty's daughter?"

"No."

"For you and Trin, I'll take the hit," he says, shaking his head.

"Thanks."

He gets another text and chuckles. "Hey, Bronze is renting a chair at Dirty's place for a bit."

Rock raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"That who tatted Hope's name on you?" I ask.

Rock lifts the corner of his mouth in a smirk. "Z just can't keep his mouth shut, can he?"

From the back, Z snickers.

"I think his feelings are just hurt, prez. He always thought you'd ink his name on you first."

Not at all insulted, Z laughs even harder.

"When's he gettin' into town?" I ask Z.

"Says he's already here. Looking to set up appointments this week if we know of anyone."

Perfect timing.

At least I heard from Wrath once, so I know he's okay.

Of course it was to identify my attacker. I'm still upset that I couldn't be one hundred percent sure.

"Are you okay?" Hope asks for the tenth time.

"Yeah," I answer because I know she's scared out of her mind. She checks her phone, probably upset she hasn't heard from Rock.

"He won't text you while they're handling this, Hope. He's probably got a burner on him."

She seems confused. Isn't she a lawyer? "If they ever got arrested, he wouldn't want the cops to make the connection to you so easily," I explain.

"Oh."

She looks like she's going to be sick.

I hold up the little flip phone in my hand. "Burner to burner," I explain.

"Oh," she says again.

A little later I get another text.

On our way home.

Thank God.

The guys are either weary or fired-up when they return. No one's covered in blood, so I take that as a positive sign. Rock squeezes my shoulder and nods at me before taking Hope upstairs.