Roman and I both stare at each other for a minute, both unsure what our next move should be. Suddenly the biker from earlier pops into my mind. “There was another biker I thought was watching me today,” I say to myself almost as much as Roman. “He was wearing a different cut than you do. He took off as soon as he saw me looking at him.”
Roman just lets out a tired sigh. “There are a lot of bikers that pass through town, Kayla. Are we all just potential threats to you?”
Without another word, I leave the room, careful not to touch him as I move past. Walking down the hallway to our bedroom, I can hear Roman’s soft curse behind me. But he doesn’t try to follow.
4
Chapter 4
Roman
The numbers swim before my eyes, blurring together after staring at the screen for so long. I rub my temples, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Something’s wrong with these books; Guzzler’s right. I can’t put my finger on exactly what, but money’s disappearing somewhere between our legitimate businesses and the club’s accounts. Not enough to notice at a glance, but too much to be clerical errors.
Guzzler had pulled me aside after church yesterday, his weathered face more serious than usual. The old man has been with the Devil’s Rejects since my father founded the club, managing our money with an attention to detail that borders on obsessive. If he says something’s wrong with the numbers, something’s definitely wrong.
“I don‘t like what I’m seeing, Viper,” he’d said in that gravelly voice of his, eyes darting around to make sure we weren’t overheard. “Been tracking this for three months now. Money’s leaking somewhere, but I can’t trace it.”
“Why come to me?” I’d asked. “Why not go straight to Atlas?”
Guzzler had just looked at me, his expression saying everything. “You know why.”
And I did. Atlas had been different these last few months. More erratic. Less interested in the day-to-day operations of the club. Everyone knew why. There was a maniac with a grudge trying to get to Naomi, and despite our best efforts, we still hadn’t been able to track him down. But lately, I’ve had the feeling there was something else eating at him, and whatever it was had him distracted. Either way, it’s not the best time to come to him with vague suspicions.
“Let me look into it,” I told Guzzler. “If we find something concrete, we’ll take it to him together.”
Now, staring at these numbers, I’m starting to see what Guzzler was talking about. It’s not just the garage. The strip club we own on the edge of town shows the same pattern: revenue that doesn’t match the reported customer numbers, expenses that seem inflated. Our gun shop, too. Small discrepancies, spread out over multiple businesses. Clever. If you weren’t looking for it specifically, you’d probably miss it.
But who would have access to all these books? The list is short. Atlas, obviously. Diesel, as sergeant at arms. Guzzler, who brought this to my attention. And—
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I whip around, ready to strike, only to find Naomi standing there, her red curls wild around her face, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Jumpy tonight, Viper?” she asks, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Jesus, Tech,” I say as I try to calm my racing heart. “Make some noise next time.”
She laughs, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Where’s the fun in that?” Her eyes drift to the computer screen. “So what’s got you so distracted?”
I hesitate, not sure how many people I want to share my suspicions with until I have concrete proof of something going on. The last thing I need is rumors spreading.
“Just looking at some of the books for Guzzler,” I say finally, deciding on a version of the truth. “He’s worried there might be some accounting errors.”
“If the numbers aren’t adding up, Guzzler should have taken that straight to my father.” Naomi says, leaning past me to look at my screen.
I can’t decide if she sounds concerned or if I’m just on edge from everything that’s been going on.
“I think he wasn’t sure if there actually was an error or if he was just missing something,” I shrug, watching her carefully. “No sense bothering Atlas if it turns out to be nothing.”
“Well, I‘m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, dropping into the chair next to mine, her knee brushing against my thigh as she settles in. “You always do.”
I turn back to the screen, uncomfortable with her proximity but not wanting to show it. Naomi has always been like this: invading personal space, pushing boundaries. It used to be easier to deal with when she was just Atlas’s kid. Now that she’s a full member, the dynamics have shifted in ways I’m still adjusting to.
Naomi is quiet for a few minutes, her eyes tracking my movements as I flip through spreadsheets. Then she leans back in her chair, letting her head drop back and closing her eyes.
“You ever think about the future of the club, Viper?” She asks suddenly without looking up. Her voice is casual, as if she were asking me about the weather.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs, sitting up again. “I mean, do you ever think that the Rejects could be… more?”