“Grip, stay here and stay alert. No fucking around on your phone.”

“Got it, Prez.”

My phone buzzes with a text from Steer. Nothing.

I answer: On our way.

I’d taken a look at an aerial map before we left the clubhouse and call up the same map on my phone now. “Jiggy, Rooster, take this corner closest to the dumpster. Hustler, take the far left corner. You should meet up with Steer there.”

Murphy raises an eyebrow, waiting for more instructions. “Stick with me.”

We cut through the woods and emerge at the bottom of Malone’s parking lot. Music thumps through the air, but the parking lot only has a few scattered cars and two bikes.

“Not that busy,” Rooster whispers.

“No other bikes besides our guys either,” Jigsaw says.

“They could be around back.” I point in the direction of the cracked asphalt that wraps around the side of the building.

I check my phone but nothing more from Steer. Nothing at all from Shadow.

This reeks of a set-up.

“Go get into your positions.” I nod toward the building. Hustler, Jigsaw, and Rooster take off.

Murphy, Teller, and I approach the low, concrete wall surrounding the dumpster.

“This is bullshit,” Murphy mutters.

“Tell me about it.”

We stop at the wall and the three of us survey the parking lot.

“DeLova would roll up with an entourage ten deep coming into our territory to meet another MC,” Murphy says.

“At least. Jesus Christ, he comes in a damn caravan to his own son-in-law’s clubhouse.”

Teller shifts and checks his phone. “We could be early. Not like Shadow had lots of useful details.”

My phone vibrates and I check the incoming text.

Hustler: I don’t see either of them anywhere.

Fucking great.

I text Jigsaw and Rooster, but neither of them has seen Shadow or Steer either.

Tension curls in my stomach. What if Steer and Shadow are working together and lured us out here? What if Shadow took Steer out and he’s waiting to nab the rest of us?

It’s never good when you’re questioning your brothers’ loyalty.

The rumble and whine of multiple bikes has us ducking back behind the wall.

“That ain’t Vipers, unless they’re lettin’ members run rice burners now,” Murphy mutters.

Teller snorts and shakes his head. “They could be recruiting anyone.”

The bikes pull up to the left of the building. Sticking to the shadows, I take a chance and step out to see who’s arrived. “None of them are wearing colors.”

“They’re cowards.” Teller brushes up against my side. “They want to do business on our turf, they might not bother wearing colors.”

“True. Still don’t see a single vehicle here Emperor DeLova would sit his dainty ass in,” I say.

My phone vibrates and I step back behind the wall to check the message.

Rooster: Who rode up?

Me: Not sure. No colors.

My phone vibrates again.