My phone dings, and when I see the number, a shudder races down my spine.
“Excuse me, I just have to check this.”
“Of course.” Miriam gets up and moves over the couch to speak with Emily.
It dings twice more. I don't want to look, but I do.
I'm watching you, Alessa.
I'll never give up. You belong to me. You always have.
One day you'll understand.
I have eyes inside that filthy little club.
You'll find out when you least expect it.
And Alessa, I know about your little bastard biker baby.
23
SNARK
Fuck, what is this shit?
Normally, I don't really give a fuck what members do with our internet, but I copped the job of making sure it stays secure, and this is weird. The content is encrypted, so there's fuck all I can do about that, but these messages are being sent to a Mafia address. Good to see my scripts filtering on known domains are working, but who the hell is communicating with them? Eagle-eye, maybe? But I've got his devices mapped, and unless he got himself a new phone or something, this isn't him.
So if it's not truce talks, who else in the club has reason to send things to the Mafia?
I snap the laptop shut while I give it some thought. I'll have to keep my eyes open. Chat with the guys. Maybe one of them has seen something, though fuck if I know what.
Could it be Alessa? I doubt it. She would've told us if she was communicating with her Dad again. She committed and I believe her.
After locking the server room and checking the lock, I chuckle. When most people think of an MC, they basically imagine a frat house with motorcycles outside, and to be fair, they're not all wrong. But at the same time, we have to be fucking organized. Our garage is high tech, our defenses have a budget most people wouldn't fucking imagine, and these days you don't get anywhere without solid internet. The dark web is where deals are made, contraband drop-offs scheduled and shady contracts are signed these days. Who needs a burner phone when you have an onion browser?
Sure, we ride the streets, protect the neighborhood and deal out our own brand of justice where justice is needed, but that's not all we do. Not that most of the guys have any idea how most of this shit works under the hood, but that's why they've got me. I keep them connected, and I keep their cyber-asses safe.
So if there's a leak to the mob, I need to fucking know it.
I come up the stairs to find the party already started. Fuck, I was down there longer than I thought. From the number of empty bottles on the bar, it's been going for a good while, even. I always did lose myself in technical shit, whether it's the beat up computer my parents got me in middle school, or fixing my bike, but you'd think I'd have heard the rumble from the speakers before now. The basement's isolated, but not that isolated.
Eagle-eye looks up as I pass by. He's sitting in an easy chair, with Miriam perched on the arm. She’s giggling at one of his stories like she's Emily's age. They need to just admit they've got a thing going on, because the only ones they're fooling are themselves. Too fucking old to start a new relationship, my ass.
“Snark. What's with the long face? It's party night.” He gestures at the room.
I look around. The sluts are out in force tonight. Could it be one of them? We don't exactly vet them as long as they're happy to put out, but then we don't tell them anything useful either. And fuck, some of them have been here for years. Alexis, Zoe, Stacy. Some new ones. I don't even know her name, but she's sure as hell showing Chef a good time back in the corner.
Used to be I was all over that shit, but Alessa isn't here, and if I'm going to be between anyone's legs, it's hers. Is she making an honest man out of me? I must be getting old, because that actually sounds nice. “It might be nothing,” I reply. “Just finding some oddities in the logs. You been messaging with the mob lately?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “No. Things stalled after the shooting. Probably comes as no surprise to anyone. I'm going to call Papa Giordano and see if we can iron things out, but letting the dust settle first. If that fuckhead that shot Hawk is still on their payroll, cooperation's going to be difficult.”
“Yeah. Fair. Just checking. I'll let you know if I figure out anything, okay?”
He nods, and then Miriam asks him something, drawing his attention away. Old dog. I shake my head with a laugh and return to observing the party while I think. Some of the sluts resent the new girls getting a shortcut to becoming old ladies. There was the Janie incident with Emily when she first got here, but we cleared out everyone even remotely linked to that shit. Still, it’s something to think about.