Page 64 of Ride or Die

The kid looked like he was raised like one. Tall and gangly, but he hadn’t filled out yet. It was like looking in the mirror twenty years ago.

“What happened here?” The warehouse was cleared out, except for the folded furniture and Wheeler’s guys. Warehouses in Cascadia didn’t sit empty, even this far out from the port.

“Cooper and company met with the Italians to negotiate whatever they’ve got going on. They wanted neutral space and objective security. The space is one of King’s investments.” Wheeler nodded to the warehouse. “Worked well.”

Saint wanted to press his eyes through his skull and settled on pinching his eyebrows. “Fuck, Wheeler. This isn’t just toeing the line anymore, huh?”

Wheeler glanced away before he looked Saint in the eye. “Little hypocritical, don’t you think? The ROI is good, and the risk is acceptable. I just wanted your take on this kid before he gets himself killed by pretending to be one of your biker buddies. It’s my contract.”

“Your biker buddies now, too,” Saint said.

Wheeler shrugged and didn’t look even a little guilty, although he had a point.

Saint didn’t want to see the kid dead. And it was hypocritical. Hell, Saint was on a first-name basis with Cooper and definitely shouldn’t have been.

But old habits died hard. He’d liked it better when they’d known they were crossing lines for a greater good, even if he barely believed they had been anymore.

Wheeler cracked a smile. “When you’re done pretending you retired, you let me know. We could get the gang back together. Make some real money. Make a difference again.”

Saint ignored the wistful look that flashed across Wheeler’s face.

Lots of ex-military went private, and the market was lucrative depending what they were willing to take on. King was making money with the people he’d taken with him when he’d left the forces, doing just that.

“That’s done,” Saint said with a note of finality he didn’t feel.

Riley didn’t date cops, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be with him if he was back to running ops and solving problems. That part of his life was behind him. Laws applied to him again. He was a civilian, just a mechanic.

For bikers. That was bad enough.

Saint caught himself at parade rest. He shook out his shoulders and unclenched his hands from behind his back.

Wheeler raised an eyebrow at him, and Saint didn’t answer the question there.

The garbled yelling started up again, and the kid tried to shake off the tape on his face. Saint walked over and crouched down. He removed the strips of duct tape without tearing out the peach fuzz the kid probably called a beard.

Jackson looked over and let out a weary sigh.

A string of absolutely heinous swearing filled the warehouse, and the perimeter guards glanced over but held their positions.

“Be quiet,” Saint said. The kid stopped talking long enough to spit at him and then was back at it. Saint wiped his face and got to his feet.

“You could have texted me a photo,” Saint muttered as Wheeler came to a stop at his shoulder.

Wheeler hid his smile. “Could’ve.”

“What do you want to do with him?” Wheeler asked like he hadn’t just made a big speech about being in charge. Saint wasn’t the only one falling back into old habits.

The kid glared up at them.

“Did anyone see him?”

Wheeler shook his head. “I’d imagine Cooper’d be interested to know they have a little spy. Or maybe he’s spying on the Italians.”

The kid’s eyes widened, but his lips pressed together.

“Got nothing to say to that, pipsqueak? Thought you were buddy-buddy with the pres.” Jackson pushed off the wall and joined them.

Saint didn’t feel great about standing around a kid on his knees, but if Cooper or the Italians found out, the kid was dead. They couldn’t afford leaks like that. Reputation was everything in Cascadia. Wheeler would be expected to report this and hand him over, or he’d be complicit.