I watch as my woman piles into the SUV that Crusher is driving. She’s riding in the back with Dani and Nikki. Lips is riding up front. Something is off, and I’m not sure what it is. It’s weighing my woman down heavily, and I don’t like it. I couldn’t get her to talk to me about it, but I haven’t given up; I’ll get it out of her eventually. It’s probably just wedding stuff. Lord knows it’s stressing me out, and I don’t even give a fuck about it. Hell, long as my ring ends up on Nicole’s finger, I’m good.

“Yo! Boss, we got that information you asked for,” Torch calls, claiming my attention. With one last glance at my woman, I turn around.

I have this damn feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t explain what it is, but it feels like I’m a bundle of nerves and my skin is crawling, like I’m being watched. It’s instinct. A skill honed in blood and death when I served overseas. It’s never let me down, so I know there is shit about to hit the fan. It fucking pisses me off. Ever since Irish’s betrayal, it’s been one thing after another—like the motherfucker put a damned curse on the club. It’s made worse, because I miss the fucking traitor. Every-fucking-day, I miss him. What kind of screwed up shit is that? I’ve never admitted that to anyone, not even Nicole. What man leads others and misses a traitor, like he was still a brother? It wars in my brain. There are days I want to shed tears for the fucker. His screams haunt me, and then there are other days I want him back here, so I can fucking kill him again.

I look around at the sour faces in my office, and hell, I know my day is only going to get worse. Earlier, the boys had found footage of a stranger prowling around the outside of the fence surrounding the club. The man seemed to be taking pictures. He stayed in the shadows and used a zoom lens, so he never got close enough for us to get a good picture of him. I was hoping when Torch told me he had information for me, we had somehow managed to find out who the fucker was. From the look on the faces around me, I’m thinking that’s not happening.

“Spill it.”

Frog, Freak, Torch, and Hawk are sitting around the table and not a damned one of them looks happy. Again, I feel sadness. None of my brothers I bled and fought with are here. Bull is back from the rehab, but he’s not the same. Hell, he’s not even here at the meeting. No one has seen him today. He leaves early and doesn’t get back until late in the night. When he is here, he talks to no one. I’m going to have to deal with it soon. I can’t allow it to get to the point it did with Dance…

“Well, one of you motherfuckers start talking. I got shit to do,” I growl, more because I can’t seem to shut my brain down these days.

“Yeah, like finding a monkey suit,” Freak returns.

“Screw you, I didn’t hear you telling Nikki no.”

“Woman sucked my dick like a Hoover, didn’t have the brains left to say no,” Freak jokes.

I slap him on the back of the head, not arguing, because that’s pretty much how Nicole gets her way.

“So, what the fuck is going on?”

“Someone was prowling around the Den last night. First, we thought it was just a drunk wandering around in the parking lot, but not many drunks in this area that we don’t know.”

“True.”

“Sure aren’t any drunks around here who wear expensive suits,” Freak adds, punching some buttons on his keyboard, and the screen zooms in on an older man, maybe in his late forties, with a suit and hat on. His steps are sure, not drunk at all, and everything about him screams that he is on alert. He keeps glancing over his back to see if he is being followed. His head is tucked close and aimed at an angle that’s next to impossible to get a good view of his face. Shit.

“Can you get a look at his face at all?” I ask, watching as he walks toward Nicole’s old Mercedes that Dani drives now.

I made Nicole switch to one of the club’s Tahoes. The safety rating is better, and it has more room for the baby; plus, it’s four-wheel drive. She bitched and moaned, but gave in eventually.

“There’s a sketchy picture of his face, as he walks back to the club. This camera is on the outside light overlooking employee parking,” Freak answers.

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s putting a note on the windshield of Dani’s car, you can’t really see it,” Freak says.

“Maybe he’s just trying to pick her up? Lot of those men get attached to the dancers,” Frog joins in.

“Possible, though Dani’s not mentioned anything happening that was unusual.”

“Bitch wouldn’t,” Torch says, and Freak throws an elbow into him.

I don’t understand it, but Dani and Freak seem to have formed this weird platonic friendship. Or at least I think it is. Hell, as jealous as Nikki is, if it isn’t, we’ll find Dani dead in a ditch somewhere. That bitch is not one to mess with.

“I would have gone with the stalker fan theory, but watch what the son of a bitch does here.”

As soon as Freak gets the sentence out, we watch as the man squats down and monkeys under the car.

“Lo-jack?”

Freak motions to Hawk and Hawk hands me a small black box. A tracker, and a pretty expensive one. We’ve used them from time to time in the club. So much for hoping the club had dealt with enough drama for a while. Fuck.

“It could still be a crazy stalker,” Hawk says.

“To afford that kind of technology?” Freak questions, and he knows exactly how expensive the little toy I’m holding costs. Our club has spent a crap-load on them in the past.

“So, he’s a crazy-rich-off-his-ass Stalker,” Hawk responds, but you can tell he’s not convinced. I’m not either.

I keep watching the screen, holding the tracker in my hand. The guy makes it through the parking lot almost to the front of the Den and raises his head briefly. Freak freezes the image on the screen. It’s piss-poor quality but you can see him even through the shaded, grainy picture. Trouble is, I don’t recognize him at all.

“Is he the same guy that was sneaking around the outside gates before?”

“The build is definitely the same. I’d say it is Drag, but there’s no way to be sure,” Torch responds.

“Beef up security. Have the prospects watching like their lives depend on it. Fuck, if we have some more shit hitting the club, their lives will depend on it,” I growl and stomp out of the room.

I’m pissed. I think Nicole knows what’s going on. I just don’t understand why she hasn’t talked to me about it. I’m going to have to have some words with her about it all. It pisses me off even more that once again it is her girl causing drama. I hope I’m wrong. I really fucking hope that I am, and Dani is not about to cause another fucking shit-storm to hit the club.

That dread I’ve been feeling clawing at my gut? The one where it feels like there are shoes hanging over my head about to drop? That feeling tells me I’m not wrong.