Instead, he picked up.
“Ronan,” he said.
“Sorry to bother you so late.”
“I’m up. What’s goin’ on?”
“Got some intel for you on Blair Sanchuk. Turns out he’s a hangaround with the Sinners MC.”
Silence.
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” he said.
“Really wish I was.” I filled him in on everything Naveen had just told me, finishing up with, “Our contact in VPD says he’s known to them, but they’ve got nothing on him.”
“So what’s your reading on it?” he asked me.
“Hard to say. He has no record, but that doesn’t mean much. Could be he keeps a low profile. Low-level dealer, and maybe a user, given the meth pipe I found in Summer’s yard.”
“You found a pipe in Summer’s yard?”
“Yup. Smashed on the ground under her balcony, the one he climbed.”
“He ditched it. So the cops wouldn’t find it on him.”
“I’d put money on it. And low-level scumbag or not, the fact that he tried to break into Summer’s house makes him a threat any way you look at it.”
“You need to get that restraining order sorted and keep him the fuck away from her,” Jude said. “Keep him the fuck out of our universe. The second you see him around, you let me know. I don’t like bein’ across the goddamn globe when shit like this goes down, but I won’t be back in town ’til Christmas. Until then, whatever you need, you call Brody. Call in more guys. Whatever. You’ve got carte fuckin’ blanche to do whatever you need. Just keep her safe.”
“You got it. I’ll call you with anything more.”
“Good.” He hung up.
I didn’t bother asking him if he’d be calling this into the Kings, or if he’d be updating me.
I’d known Jude Grayson for years, professionally, and one thing I’d learned: if he wanted me to know the answers to such questions, he’d tell me.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, to no one.
I got up, went over to the window again and looked out over the city as I dialed Maddox.
“Yup,” he said when he picked up. I could hear faint drilling sounds in the background.
“It’s Ronan. Please tell me you knew that.”
“Got you on speed dial, boss,” he said, with more sarcasm than I needed.
“Good. How’s it going over there?”
“It’s goin’ fine. Got the locks changed. Be a couple more hours gettin’ the alarm in.”
“Okay.”
How’s Summer?
I wanted to ask, but that would just be… weird. I’d been gone for half an hour. Clearly, everything was fine. She was probably still in the shower or something.
“See you in bit,” I said, and hung up.
Then I paced some more.
Naveen was right. I needed to work out or something. I was agitated and had nowhere to put this dark, unsettled energy.
I was fucking pissed, actually.
Jude’s team should’ve seen this coming sooner, before it fucked with their universe. Flynn should’ve known after that night at the club. Something.
But the fact was, Flynn wasn’t working for Summer. And it’s not like Summer had told anyone that anything was wrong or that this guy was harassing her.
Maybe she never would’ve voluntarily told them, until he crossed some major line like he did and she was forced to reach out for help.
Clearly, she didn’t want to ask for help. She didn’t want to admit any vulnerability, or change the way she lived.
She didn’t want the party to have to end.
I sat down at my desk and tried to focus. I had a lot of shit to delegate to others so I could clear my plate enough to focus on Summer’s round-the-clock security detail, plus managing the Players’ security, and putting a plan in place, within budget, until Brody and Jude brought in someone to take over.
At that point, I’d be back to my regularly scheduled programming.
When things were wrapped up enough for me to feel satisfied, and confident that I could leave the office and potentially not walk back through the door for a few weeks—or however long this assignment took—I went to my safe and opened it. I got out my handgun and put it in a duffel bag, along with a few boxes of ammunition. I’d take it to my place and store it there, for now.
My apartment was closer to Summer’s place than the office was.
And with all this talk of motorcycle clubs and drug dealers… it wouldn’t hurt to know my weapon was a little more accessible.
Chapter Ten
Ronan
I was just leaving my office when I heard the roar of motorcycles outside. I glanced out the window to the back alley below… and swore under my breath.
I locked up, set the alarm, and headed downstairs to the parking lot, where a couple of Harleys were rolling in.
I recognized the guy on the lead bike. His build, the attitude that emanated off him as thick as the smell of exhaust, and that blond hair in a short ponytail poking out from under his helmet…
They roared right past me, then stopped and backed into a couple of spots in the otherwise empty lot, right next to my car. They shut off the bikes and took off their helmets, and the blond smoothed back his hair like he was fucking James Dean. Just double the size and triple the asshole.
Piper Grayson. Jude’s older brother.
Vice President of the West Coast Kings motorcycle club.
They got off the bikes and sauntered toward me. I stood where I was, the duffel bag with my gun slung over my shoulder.
I had no idea if they were carrying. They weren’t openly wearing their club colors, but the Kings didn’t usually wear them in broad daylight in the city. Piper wore his leather Kings cut underneath a hoodie, and his club brother wore his under a black bomber jacket.
Piper took off his sunglasses as they approached me.
“Ronan,” he said. “Been a while.”
“It has.”
For whatever reason, he smirked. “This is Blazer.”
I looked at the guy who stood just behind him and off to the side, watching me. Blazer. Sounded like a biker’s road name,
