I turn my head and look at Bono who is daydreaming of all things. “Bono, wake your ass up. The man asked a question. How many men does this terrible man have with him?” I snarl because I know he’s more than likely worn out his own energy supply with that damn singing.
I listen to Bono and then repeat to Tracker and Finger. “Bono said between ten and fifteen. He has been collecting men as he has been traveling here. But the aim is to blow up this building.”
“Can you tell us anything else, Cilla?” Finger asks, showing concern at what I’ve been telling them.
I look at Bono again, and the shit is fast asleep standing up. “Bono, wake up.” But he doesn’t wake. He disappears, which means his energy has gone. “Sorry, but the shit has been an asshole all day singing about beer bottles on a wall and he’s worn himself out. His energy has zapped out, and he’s left. He’ll be back when he’s able.”
“Can you tell us anything else?” Tracker asks, and a shadow appears behind him.
Not now! Please, not now is what I’m thinking, but you know it. The shadow becomes a man. A tall man. I lean to the right and look past Tracker.
Tracker squints at me. Finger smirks as he asks, “Is there someone else there now, Cilla?”
“A very tall man. Actually, he looks a lot like you, Tracker,” I say as I lean a little more to get a good look. I listen to what he’s saying and give him a nod as he disappears. “He said to tell you, Eugene Burrows, knuckle down!” Now I’m not sure what it means, and Tracker looks at Finger then back to me, but he hassome shock on his face. “Who is Eugene?” I ask, carefully I might add.
Tracker does that man thing where they tug on their beard before answering my question. “Eugene Burrows is, or should I say was my great-great-grandfather. Throughout the generations of men in my family, they have always said toknuckle downwhen trouble’s coming. God-awful trouble, that is.”
“Oh. You believe me now?” I can’t help but ask.
“Yeah, I believe you, Cilla. Finger, give Cilla my digits, and she can contact either of us whenever she needs to. We owe you now, and we are more than happy to do anything we can for you in return.” Tracker stands and holds out his massive hand for a shake. I stand and pump his hand as firmly as I can, and I see the amusement in the crinkles that appear at the sides of his eyes.
I’m just going to let go when I hear. *Seven thousand bottles of beer on the wall*Goddamn he is back!
Chapter 5
FINGER
Six floors to check the club women have done what they were told to do. I’m sick of chasing their asses and I reckon Tracker had the better idea of demolishing this place and building a smaller clubhouse with all modern conveniences. I know we’ve spent a lot of cash making this place livable, but it’s a fucking warehouse. It’s cold, dusty and will never feel like home.
Opening and closing doors to rooms that are occupied I look into bathrooms and see they are clean, and I’m damn pleased because honestly, I am sick of chasing around after these women.
By the time I’m on the second floor, I’m sure the rooms I lock and class as vacant are going to stay that way. I’m pleased the brothers that went to the Satan’s Guardians MC settled in okay, and from whispers I heard are thinking of opening up a new chapter of the club. We’ll see, often gossip is just that, gossip, with no truth in it.
Walking into Tracker’s office thirty minutes later, I throw myself into a chair and give him a look that tells him I’m sick of all the shit going on.
“What’s up with you?” Tracker asks, and I know he’s taking the piss because he knows me better than most anyone at the club.
I sigh, sit up a little straighter in my seat and with the flattest sounding voice I can manage, “Report. All bathrooms are clean and the club women have for once done as they were told.”
“Do we have many rooms locked?” Tracker looks up from the laptop he has opened in front of him.
“Eight or nine. I locked them up tight. Save time for the women, and stop the men blundering in, making a mess and then fuckin’ off leaving it for someone else to clean.”
Tracker nods, and when the door opens, we both look to see Cap walking into the office. He places a mug of coffee in front of Tracker who gives him a nod of appreciation.
“The common room is a shithole again. Yvonne said she’s going on strike. I laughed, but you know she gave me a look that could have shriveled my balls, so I stopped laughing damn fast.” Cap takes a seat and looks at me before giving his attention to Tracker.
Tracker asks, “Where’s Rides?”
Rides is our Sergeant at Arms, and most people think he’s Road Captain because of his name. In fact, he got it as a prospect because when he was doing his time, he was riding a fucking Yamaha and not a Harley. The name stuck, but I tell you nobody can ride a bike no matter what make it is, better than Rides. I like to think the name suits him because of that at least these days.
I shake my head because I’ve no idea. I’ve not seen him all day. Cap shrugs so it appears he’s not seen him either.
Cap changes the subject since none of us know where Rides happens to be right now. “I think Phoenix, Winger, and Joker should step up the perimeter checks. They can pull in the prospects because we all know they need some experience on perimeter checks. If this threat from ZeBach sticks then we need to cover our asses.”
Tracker nods, “Yeah, organize that Cap. We’ll call church and cover what Cilla told us, but we need to watch some of the brothers. I’ve noticed absences from around here, and watch Snake. Something is going on with him.”
Cap’s phone buzzes and taking it out, he checks it before looking up with a grin on his face. “Seems our missing brother, Rides is at the diner and doing his best to have your lady, Cilla, tell him if anyone is following him around. He’s staying until she tells him something. Well, that’s what he’s telling me.”