In his time with the Steel Phoenixes, Nash had seen his fair share of dead bodies. Most of the time, however, they weren’t people he knew. They were just random assholes who had gotten in the way. Stiffs. John Does. The kind of hard corpses he had no problem dumping in a field or in a lake if it meant the Phoenixes wouldn’t be under suspicion.

 

He’d only seen two dead bodies in the past of people he knew personally. Tonight, he’d seen four more, and these were guys he actually cared about. Billy. Zayn. Kent. Finn. Four young guys who were new to the MC but seemed like they’d be lifers. They got the job quickly. None of them gave lip. Each did as they were told, whenever they were told, and never asked any stupid questions.

 

And tonight someone had killed them. Shot them. Micky had called him, just as he was about to head over to Eliza’s, and after shooting her a quick text saying he couldn’t make it (and nothing more), he hopped on his bike and rode out to the crime scene. Things were still fresh, the bodies found in one of their underground clubhouses in the downtown core, under a convenience store whose owner took a measly two percent cut for keeping his mouth shut; the Phoenixes used the spot to store cash. Never a lot, but more than any one man would feel comfortable carrying around in public.

 

The boys were there to guard it. That was their shift. According to the convenience store owner, a bunch of hooded sons of bitches wearing sunglasses and leather gloves descended upon the dirty stairwell that led to the basement door about an hour earlier. No surveillance cameras down there, as per the MC’s request. The owner had thought they were part of the club, maybe a change in shift, then panicked when he heard gunfire and closed the upstairs store immediately before contacting Micky. Some might have thought the old man was in on it, but Nash trusted his loyalty—as did all the other higher-up guys in the MC. They let the owner go, telling him not to open for a few days, while Micky and Nash investigated the scene.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his expression hard, his eyes threatening to water, as he took in the sight of four bullet-ridden boys. Blood coated the walls, the floor, and the chairs of the table where they’d all probably been sitting. The money was gone, of course.

 

“How’d they find it?” Micky said after checking the safe again. He stepped around the bodies carefully, skilled enough not to leave a footprint in the pools of blood. Both men wore gloves, hoping to minimize their presence on the scene. If they could get the clean-up crew down here in time, nobody would have to know, but there was no accounting for any other random fucks who heard gunshots and called the cops. They couldn’t stay for long.

 

“Somebody must be talking,” Nash said. His voice threatened to crack, his throat dry, stomach churning. “Unless the guy behind it caught wind that I was investigating the college.”

 

“Who you been talking to?”

 

“No one yet,” he told his old friend, shaking his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the bloody bodies. They still looked alive, their eyes wide open, mouths gaping like fish on land. “Been following up on the dean like you told me.”

 

“Aren’t you screwing his daughter?”

 

His lips twitched into a small smirk, and Micky let out a deep breath.

 

“Careful, Nash,” the man grumbled as he headed for the door. “Bitches talk.”

 

“Not this one,” he assured him, following behind him. “This one does what I tell her.”

 

Micky glanced back, grinning as if there weren’t four dead bodies behind them. “Oh, one of those, huh?”

 

He shrugged, not really wanting to talk about Eliza with Micky. She was separate from this world, from the Steel Phoenixes and bleeding bodies.

 

“She and her dad don’t vibe,” he insisted, throwing his hood up as they pushed out into the stairwell and hurried up the stairs. It had started raining since they went down to investigate, something to wash away whatever footprints they left, but it was cold enough that everything would probably turn to ice before the night was over. Nash crossed his arms over himself to ward off the chill. “When I ask about him, she thinks I’m being supportive. Doubt she’d even consider I’m looking for intel.”

 

“Good. Keep it that way,” Micky said dismissively once they reached the sidewalk. Nash clenched his jaw, but said nothing until his old friend said his goodbyes. The two went in opposite directions, Micky headed for his house in the suburbs and Nash to his apartment on the south end of town. He wasn’t looking forward to sitting on a wet motorcycle seat, but that was the least of his problems.

 

Sure, he’d been looking into the dean and his staff, but not hard enough. Because he’d been fucking around with Eliza, four good guys were killed. Someone was getting the upper hand on the club, and Nash was failing his brothers. It was time to get serious. Eliza needed to go on the backburner, for now, until he got his shit straightened out. It’d be tough seeing less of her, yeah, but Nash was a big boy. A fucking grown-up. He adored how easy she fell into the role of his submissive, but she was proving to be a bigger distraction than he’d anticipated.

 

Just for a little while, it was time for a break.