Whiteshirt stormed into kirche. “What’s the damage?” Ironside asked.

 

“All the cameras, lights, editing equipment and servers are smash to all to shit. $250,000 worth of equipment, fucked! They also destroyed the sets. What good is fucking Peyton if she can’t tell us shit like this is going to happen?”

 

“I’m sure she’s doing the best she can,” Ironside snapped.

 

“Well it’s not good enough! How did they know about the BKS? It isn’t even fucking open yet! We have a fucking mole, and I think I know who it is!”

 

“Who?” Ironside asked.

 

“Who do you do you think? Peyton!”

 

“Peyton?” Ironside cried.

 

“Who else would it be?”

 

“Why do you think it’s her?”

 

“You’re shitting me! You told her about BKS, right?”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell her where it was.”

 

“How hard would that be to figure out? Check the listings for warehouse property that recently sold and do a little snooping. I’ve been saying this all along, you can’t trust that bitch!”

 

Ironside sighed. He was getting tired of Whiteside blaming everything that went wrong on Peyton, especially after she’d proven her worth. “And all the stuff she has told us about? You think the Saracens are feeding us that to set us up for something? If they are, they have some deep fucking pockets and don’t give a shit about their brothers.”

 

“Maybe she’s a double agent.”

 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Whiteshirt! Really?”

 

“All I know is we weren’t having these problems until she wandered into the bar. That makes me very suspicious.”

 

“And the Saracens losing a shipment of guns had nothing to do with it?”

 

“I think it has everything to do with it. I think she was sent in to find out if we did it.”

 

“And we told her we didn’t. If she really was a spy, that should have ended it there.”

 

“Maybe they didn’t believe her.”

 

“You’re fucking crazy! You think she’s some super spy, but then they don’t believe the intel she reports back. You can’t have it both ways, Whiteshirt!”

 

“And I think you’re thinking with your cock!”

 

Ironside clamped down on his rage. “You think I’m putting this club as risk over pussy?”

 

“I think you are blinded by the danger she poses. Are you still fucking her?”

 

“What?”

 

“When she comes here, are you fucking her?”

 

“That’s none of your goddamned business!”

 

“It is by goddamn business! I’m your vice president, and it’s my fucking job to advise you. But you are so blinded by this fucking chick you aren’t seeing what’s going on around you.”

 

“And I think you’re so blinded by your suspicions you can’t see all the good she’s done. Because of her info they lost shipment of drugs, and now two shipments of guns, not to mention the hit on Canfield.”

 

“And the hit on the studio and the nine girls and three brothers killed at Straight Up? Did you forget about those?”

 

“You know I haven’t! But if she doesn’t hear, she doesn’t hear! It’s not like she can walk up to Andrew and ask, ‘How are you planning to fuck the Knights today?’”

 

“I know that!”

 

“You don’t act like it sometimes!”

 

“Well I do! You don’t think it’s strange she finds out all this other shit, but she can’t find where one girl is located?”

 

“No, not really. Why would she lie about that?”

 

“To string us along? To keep you wriggling on the hook and feeding her tidbits of information while you’re fucking her. Do we even know there is a Melissa?”

 

Ironside went incandescent with rage. “You mother fucker. You think I’m passing her information?” he asked quietly.

 

“I don’t know. Are you? Dolch said you were balls deep in her while discussing business.”

 

“On the hit she told us about!” he roared.

 

“All I know is, I didn’t tell her about the studio.”

 

“And how many of us here know about it? Everyone? It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

 

“That’s right. It’s not. We’ve been working on BKS for almost six months and, yet, the hit didn’t come until after Peyton showed up.”

 

“Coincidence.”

 

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

 

“You can believe what you want, but I think you’re doing nothing but jumping at shadows. You bring me proof she’s a mole for the Saracens, and I’ll cut her heart out myself. But until that time, I’m going to believe she’s an asset to this club.”

 

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

 

“Noted,” Ironside snarled, then stormed away before he ripped Whiteshirt’s head off.

 

***

 

“What are you doing here?” Ironside asked as Peyton approached. Peyton was sitting on his kitchen steps when he arrived home. “What happened to you?”

 

Peyton’s face was beginning to bruise and her lip was swollen. “Andrew. It’s nothing,” she explained with a dismissive wave.

 

“Why didn’t you come to the clubhouse?”

 

“Because I didn’t know if I would be welcome there after what happened.”

 

Ironside chuckled then gave her a gentle kiss. “It’s all anyone has been talking about,” he said as he pushed his bike into the garage. “A few sided with Honey, but most thought she got what she deserved. She called you out and she set the rules.” He chuckled. “The guest rooms were busy right after the fight.”

 

“How is she?”

 

“She’s okay. She left and was gone for a couple of days before she came back. I think she was embarrassed that you kicked her ass again and everyone found out all her trash talking was just that: trash. Since she’s been back she’s been a lot less mouthy.”

 

She nodded. “Good. I’m tired of kicking that bitch’s ass. I hurt my hand the last time and it took days before it stopped hurting.”

 

“But it’s not hurting now?”

 

She wiggled her fingers for him to see. “No.”

 

“That’s good. How’s your knee? When Honey kicked you like that, it made me cringe.”

 

“It hurt like a bitch the next day, but it’s fine now. Are you still fucking her?”

 

He chuckled. “Jealous?”

 

She smiled. “I know I have no right to be, but yeah, a little. I kicked her ass, twice. I feel like I should get something for my efforts.”

 

He leaned in and gave her another soft kiss. “You’re right that you have no right to be jealous…but no, I’m not fucking her anymore.”

 

“Anyone else?”

 

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

 

Peyton smiled, noticing he didn’t answer the question, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to be celibate and she and Melissa were leaving as soon as they could anyway. “No, just one.”

 

“What?”

 

“Are we going to be playing hide the sausage again or not?”

 

He chuckled again. “You like that game?”

 

Her smiled widened. “Yes, and I want to play it at least one more time before we leave.”

 

He grinned, rather liking the way that sounded. “Is that why you’re here?” he teased.

 

She became serious. “No. I found Melissa, but I also have more news.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’ll get Melissa out? Today?”

 

“Why today?”

 

“Because Andrew knows. I don’t know how, but that’s what this is about,” she said as she motioned at her face. “He came at me and started slapping me around, wanting to know what I’d told you.”

 

His face went hard. “How’d you get away?”

 

“The thick end of a pool cue to the side of the head will slow you way down. But we still have a deal, right? You’ll do it today?”

 

“We may have to wait until tonight, for cover, but we have a deal,” he confirmed.

 

“They’ll move her!”

 

“We’ll get her, don’t worry. We’ll need to know what you found out, where they’re keeping her, so we can plan.”

 

She nodded. “The Saracens are coming for you. You, Whiteshirt, Dolch, the whole club. They know where you three, maybe more, live. They’re going to try to wipe you out. The cartel, they’re pressuring the Saracens to get a handle their problems.”

 

“You don’t know when or how?”

 

“No. I found that out a couple days ago, and I’ve been trying to find out more. But now I’m burned.”

 

Ironside nodded. “We need to move on this,” he said as he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Whitehirt! Ironside. Is Dolch there?”

 

“Yeah, why?” Whiteshirt answered.

 

“Get him and haul ass over to my house. Peyton is here. You need to hear this.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Saracens are on the move. Just get your ass over here as fast as you can.”

 

“We’re rolling,” Whiteshirt said then was gone.

 

“You didn’t tell them about Melissa…” Peyton said softly.

 

“No. We’ll talk about that when they get here. How did you find her?”

 

Peyton smiled. “What I did to Honey was nothing compared to what I did to Jeanette. She was laughing about some of the girls having to be reinitiated, and how a couple of days ago Andrew fucked this one girl so hard they fell off the bed. When I heard that, I took apart one of the cues, stashed the fat end in a bathroom, then took her in there, locked the door, and beat the shit out of her until she told me what I wanted to know. Then Andrew showed up and the bitch screamed for help. He kicked in the bathroom door. Then…” she waved at her face again.

 

“Where’d you learn to fight? You obviously know how to take care of yourself.”

 

She grinned. “I grew up in a rough neighborhood, and I liked to put out.” She shrugged. “Some of the girls didn’t like me fucking their boyfriends. I took a few beatings before I learned how fight back. Later I had a boyfriend teach me how to throw a punch.” Her grin widened. “I used what he taught me on a girl he was two-timing me with.”

 

***

 

“What have you got?” Dolch ask twenty minutes later as he and Whiteshirt settled into chairs at the table, a beer in front of them.

 

Peyton decided to open with what was most important to her. “I found Melissa. She’s in the Arabian Motel, on Lorain. We need to get her, as soon as possible, before they can move her.”

 

“We’ll get to that,” Ironside said. “Tell us about the hit.”

 

“What hit?” Whiteside asked.

 

“The cartel is pushing the Saracens to deal with you. Worse, they know the home addresses of the officers, maybe others, too.”

 

“Fuck! Are you sure?” Whiteshirt asked.

 

“Sure? No. I’m not sure about any of this. I only heard about it through the grapevine.”

 

“How did they find out?”

 

“How should I know? I didn’t tell them, if that’s what you’re implying. I don’t even know where you or Dolch live.”

 

“Deal with us how?” Dolch asked.

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was trying to find out when I got burned.”

 

“Andrew knows she’s our mole,” Ironside said softly. “That’s how she got the busted up face.”

 

“How did they make you tell?” Dolch asked.

 

“They didn’t. Someone tipped him.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dolch asked.

 

“Positive. I’d been putting him off, telling him I was on the rag, and he was playing grab ass and hassling me about fucking in the shower, and I was playing along. He left for a meeting, then three hours later, he comes back from his meeting, kicked in the bathroom door, and started trying to beat the shit out of me, demanding to know what I told you. So, yeah, I’m sure.”

 

“You don’t know how the hit is coming? When? Where? Anything?” Whiteshirt asked.

 

“No. I was trying to find out.”

 

“How long have you known this?”

 

She shrugged. “A couple of days.”

 

“Two days, and you haven’t bothered to tell us?” Whiteshirt asked.

 

She shrugged again. “Now I’m telling you. Has it done you any good?”

 

“The information isn’t worth shit without at least a time and place,” Whiteshirt growled.

 

“Which is why I didn’t say anything until I could find out more. I can’t exactly walk up to Andrew and ask him about it, you know. ‘Hey, Andrew! I hear you’re planning on ass-fucking the Knights! Can you drop them a line and give them all the details? Thanks, Stud!’” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“This is worthless!” Whiteshirt snarled.

 

“We know something is in the works,” Ironside said, annoyed with Whiteshirt’s attitude. “We’ll have girls keep their ears to the ground, see if we pick up any rumbles. Knowing it’s coming might allow us to see something we’d otherwise over look.”

 

“Not very fucking likely,” Whiteshirt muttered.

 

Ironside ignored him. “Dolch, what can we do to spring Melissa?”

 

“You’re not serious!” Whiteshirt cried. “She comes in here, drops this bombshell about the hit but with no details. This could be a trap to get all of us to ride into Saracens territory where they can take us out in one shot.”

 

“Fuck you, Whiteshirt, you asshole!” Peyton shouted. “We had a deal! I’ve done my part! Now you have to step up and do yours!”

 

“Whiteshirt’s right. We need to be damn careful. Not because I think you’re selling us out,” Dolch added quickly as Peyton began to flair, “but if they know we’re coming for her, they’ll be waiting. Remember Canfield? If we’re going to pull her out, we need to move, now, before they can get organized or move her. Do they know we’re coming for her?”

 

“I never said anything to suggest that. When I started busting on Jeanette I knew I wouldn’t be back, so after I found out where Melissa was, I started trying to find out anything else about the hit. She’s Pogo’s old lady and I thought she might know something. Maybe she won’t realize it was about Melissa and think it was about the hit. Maybe.”

 

“Too risky,” Whiteshirt said, shaking his head. “We need to see what the Saracens do before we go charging into there.”

 

“They could move her!” Peyton cried.

 

“One woman versus how many Knights?”

 

“You fuck!” Peyton shouted.

 

“What do you recommend, Dolch?” Ironside asked.

 

Dolch thought a moment. “Ten men with suppressed pistols. Go in fast and hard. Do you know which room she’s in?”

 

“No.”

 

“We’ll take all the women,” Ironside said.

 

“Are you shitting me?” Whiteshirt asked loudly. “Why would you do that?” he continued more quietly.

 

“To fuck the Saracens. I don’t know how many girls they run, but if we were to lose eight or ten girls, we would see that in our bottom line. How soon can we be ready to do this?”

 

Dolch stared into space a moment. “An hour.”

 

“Let’s make it happen.”

 

“You’re both crazy! Leave me out of it!” Whiteshirt snapped.

 

“You got it,” Ironside growled. When this was over, he and Whiteshirt were going to have a come to Jesus meeting.