Page 48 of Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC 1)
With Archer still not in sight.
“Come on, what are you doing?” I murmured.
I kept one eye on my side mirror and another eye on my rearview mirror as I slowed to ten under the speed limit. People passed me as if I were standing still while flipping me the bird and screaming all sorts of obscenities at me, but I didn’t give a shit. I was officially worried about Archer, and I had no way of getting in contact with him.
Call Brooks. He’ll know what to do.
I fumbled around with my phone and opened his text on accident, but as I read the words my mind came to a grinding halt. It wasn’t the cutesy little text I expected from him after our admission earlier this morning, and it only made me more worried for Archer’s safety.
Brooks: Found Black Flags casing the clubhouse. Get home and stay there. I’m coming over.
Just before I could press the button to call him, I heard an engine revving behind me. It filled me with a relief that shook me to my core and I put my phone in my lap. Finally, Archer was back. I wasn’t sure where the hell he had gotten off to, but I suddenly wanted him closer.
However, when I looked into my rearview mirror to navigate closer to his bike, I didn’t see him behind me.
What I did see, though, were three separate bikes.
And men seated on top of them with stark black leather jackets on.
Oh, no.
I kicked things up a notch and got back into the left-hand lane. I watched as the bikes swerved with me, almost running someone off the road in the process. I leaned forward and white-knuckled the steering wheel, focusing on the pathway ahead. And as my mind carved out a swerving pattern to get me through the stoplight ahead, I pressed my gas pedal all the way to the floorboard.
And weaved in and out the way Gage taught me.
“Come on, try me, you fuckers,” I murmured.
If I could just get back to my place before they ganged up on me, Brooks would be there to help. And hopefully, he’d have more help alongside him. I focused on the road and tried not to let the revving of the bike engines rattle me, but I couldn't help but notice how they kept creeping closer. I blazed through the yellow light, listening as people honked their horns and continued to curse out their windows.
And while I thought those Black Flag asshats would get caught at the red light, I should’ve known pathetic little boys like themselves wouldn’t give a shit about the color of some dumbass light.
Just get to Brooks. Just get to Brooks. Just get to Brooks.
Twenty-Three
Brooks
The more I talked, the more Porter’s face fell. And the more we talked together, the less he drank. Eventually, he set his half-sipped margarita off to the side and didn’t touch it a second time. So, I set mine down as we continued talking.
“You’re not joking, are you?” he asked.
I shook my head slowly. “Raven and I are the only ones that have really put this together, and I want to be incredibly selective on who I bring in on this.”
He nodded. “And for good reason.”
“This is serious, Porter. What she overheard?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Holy fuck, it fits so much shit.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What shit?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Like, Tanner swore up and down a couple of years ago that he saw Chops rolling with some Black Flag members down the road one night. But it was dark and he couldn’t make out the faces of the other people, just that they were wearing what he thought were black leather jackets.”
“And all leather jackets look black in the dark.”
He scoffed. “And the way Hyde died? With those drugs and shit? I thought it was so weird that Chops couldn’t swipe any from the scene.”
I paused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “When Hyde died, we all wanted Chops to butt his way into things and swipe a bit of the drugs that were found. Tanner was adamant that if we tested the drugs, it would match the same chemical compound or whatever as the drugs the Black Flags peddle on the streets.”
“A way of linking them to Hyde.”
He shrugged. “Chops said he’d do it but kept making excuses. Things were too locked down by police. Or our hookups in the department wouldn’t get to the drugs because they were currently being tested. And when we told him to request those documents—”
“Let me guess, there were more excuses.”
“Yep.”
I shook my head. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“It just—that one little tidbit makes so much random shit make sense. And you know when that happens…”
I sighed. “It means we’re usually staring the answer in the face.”
The room went silent and my ears perked up. I kept them trained on the hallway outside, just in case someone wanted to test their luck and attempt to eavesdrop on our conversation. Porter got up and grabbed his drink, and I watched him closely as he walked over to the trash can. I watched him pour his drink out before placing the cup on a small desk table off in the corner.
