from overuse. He gladly exited first, taking the lead down the empty hallway in Caleb Paynne’s apartment building. They’d stopped by the clubhouse to discover the biker they wanted was MIA. One of his brothers had let them know—after he’d checked in with a higher authority—where Caleb was. Which had given Vex, the MC’s president, and Caleb, a heads-up that company was enroute.
They stopped—for the second time in a week—in front of apartment 4B and Vincente raised his fist to knock, listening to the sounds of someone moving around inside. When the lock clicked and the door swung wide, the coldly resigned expression that met them made V want to smirk. Biker had to work on his poker face.
“Paynne,” Stefano greeted.
The idiot looked them over as though trying to figure out why they’d come a-callin’. A round of hand clasps were exchanged.
“Gonna invite us in?” Vincente prodded.
With the perfect amount of hesitation, Paynne moved aside so they could enter the apartment where a flatscreen in the corner was showing a rerun of Vincente’s favorite FX series about a badass MC.
Stefano glanced around with the same distaste he’d shown the other day. “You should get yourself a garage. Come work for me—I’ll set you up.”
“He’s already set up.” The big, blond president of the Obsidian Devils MC walked out of the bathroom rubbing an oily substance into his grease-stained hands. Vex was wearing his cut, which was the norm. Vincente respected the guy, knowing exactly what the crazy street rat was capable of.
“Vex.” Stefano wasn’t happy to see the Pres. “You hanging with your subordinates now?”
Vex’s perfect set of pearly whites flashed, but the smile didn’t reach the guy’s baby blues. “A brother isn’t seen as a subordinate where I come from. Reaper.” He nodded Vincente’s way and received a clipped nod back.
Stefano dismissed him and turned to Paynne, who’d walked to the small kitchenette and now stood holding an already opened beer. The worn vest carefully laid out over the counter caught V’s eye. Upper rocker read Obsidian Devils, the lower, Manhattan. In the center was the ODMC’s fierce Grim Reaper wrapped in a black angel’s embrace. The MC and 1% patches were there, but so too was a new one. V. President was now affixed on the right breast, proud and visible.
Looked like Paynne wasn’t heading back to Seattle, he thought as Vex caught his eye and gave him a look before sauntering over to block Stefano’s view. “Heard through the grapevine you were missing some coin from one of your operations in Freeport.”
Perfect. Gabriel’s big bro started chirping about those who underestimate the family as Vincente sidled up to Paynne.
“Go with whatever he asks,” he said under his breath. “Answer him. No fucking around. He knows the deal, and she’s covered.”
“Is she? ’Cause I’ve been texting her and she hasn’t given me shit. Where the fuck is she, V?”
Damn, Mr. VP was shooting sparks.
“Furio got to her, but she’s okay. I’ll get the details and let you know.”
Vincente had already moved away when Stefano tired of his and Vex’s conversation. He sidestepped the biker and focused on Paynne. “Wanted to ask you about the woman I met here the other day.”
The biker put his beer down, jaw tight, and moved over to stand in front of the boss. “What were you doin’ in my place?”
“Doesn’t matter. I hear she hooked up with someone. Know anything about that?”
The resentment that flashed over the biker’s face was a little too real, but Vincente could do nothing except hope the guy pulled it together before he fucked them all.
“What makes you think I’m gonna talk to you about that girl?” Paynne growled, possessiveness positively dripping from his tone.
Stefano’s face hardened. “I thought I made it clear I was the one asking the questions. Vincente?”
As V figuratively dragged his feet over, his respect for the biker grew. Paynne turned to face him, his expression reading don’t-make-it-hurt-too-much.
Stefano turned away and took out his phone as he crossed to the window, giving the impression that he found the coming action a bore. “You get the arm taken care of?” he asked whoever had picked up on the other end on the line. Had to be Furio, since Alek had let V know one of the Berkman twins had injured the underboss before things had gone to shit. Never paid to relax your guard around guys like Furio.
Not wanting to drag the “punishment” out, V let loose a quick right jab that connected with Paynne’s