Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,60
a sharp pain across my forehead to my temples, waking me instantly. I’m even more awake after the walk to the room with the large table and photos we started this job on. It feels good to stretch my legs without worrying I’ll be seen.
The large room is even more brightly lit than the main one was. The table is completely covered by photos now, and Hawk and Cross are standing by the longer edge of it, studying the images. They look up as we enter.
At least fifty of the images are slightly fuzzy close-ups of men’s faces. A glance at them tells me they’re the guys I’ve been watching go about their business in the town for the past two days.
“We got your photos now we need your reports,” Cross says.
“How about you start, Ace,” he continues. “Did you see anyone you didn’t recognize as a Sinner?”
Ace shakes his head. “I saw all the ones I expected to see, but there were a few I’ve never seen before. I never got to meet the entire MC while I was with them. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help there. But I no one came or went through the main gate the whole time me and Eagle were watching it. We took turns sleeping to make sure. If they’re communicating with the outside, it’s by phone only.”
“And we saw no movement whatsoever on the hills around it. If anyone’s keeping watch over them, they’re as skilled at hiding as we are,” Eagle adds.
The rest of the pairs confirm this, as do me and Blaze. I spent a good amount of time scanning the surrounding area for other watchers, and I even spotted Eagle going for a piss a couple of times, but that’s not something I need to share right now.
“Almost no cars passed the road either,” Mac says. He and his partner were on the hill that had the best view of the road. “And there were no helicopters or anything like that flying over it.”
“I saw a guy on one of those glider things one afternoon, but I doubt the feds are using that method of surveillance,” Eagle says, earning a chuckle from a couple of the guys.
Cross asks each of us how many people we counted. It soon becomes apparent I’m the only one who actually counted them all with any type of accuracy.
“There’s sixty-two men, fifty women, fifteen of which are club whores and the rest wives or girlfriends. There are also twenty children, most of them young. The youngest is a baby,” I say.
Cross gives me an appreciative look. “How sure are you of these numbers?”
“I counted them so many times I can still see their faces when I close my eyes,” I say. “Stake-outs are boring.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. But that’s nothing new for me.
Blaze shoots me a warning look, but luckily Cross and Hawk both chuckle.
“Yeah, they are,” Cross says. “But I’m glad you made the most of your time on this one.”
“I can tell you where most of them live too. Like in which houses,” I add. “And their routines.”
I point at a photo of a guy in his early thirties that’s closest to me. “Like this one, for example, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with the redheaded club whore. He’s always watching her and accompanies her wherever she’s going when she leaves the bar. Which is this building.”
I point it out in one of the pictures.
“And this is the house where all the club girls live,” I point at a two-story house at one end of the main street. “About five of the guys spent every night in there with them. This one, that one, those two and the guy who has the hots for the redhead,” I conclude, pointing them out in the photos.
The room is very silent when I stop talking, so silent I can hear the echo of my words.
Cross is looking at me very intently. “Good work, Colt. That’s very detailed stake-out work.”
I shrug, not comfortable being the center of attention like this. Which I am. Everyone is staring at me like they’ve never seen me before.
“I have a good memory for faces,” I mutter.
“Clearly,” Hawk says with a grin. “Show me where the rest of them live.”
He’s holding a magic marker and steps aside so I can come to stand beside him and Cross to where the photos are visible right way up. The entire town