He made you feel like the center of the universe right until he sold you out to save his own skin. "The suits from last week," Frank said. "They haven't come back. " "They will," Sarah said. She felt it in her bones.
They aren't the type to just walk away. Frank took a sip of his beer. "Neither are we. " It was a promise. But as Sarah drove home that night, watching the headlights cut through the darkness, she couldn't shake the feeling that Mercerer was right.
She was a liability. And in the world of the Hells Angels, liabilities were usually cut loose or buried. 3 days later, the war Sarah feared arrived. But it didn't start with a bang. It started with a whisper.
Sarah arrived at the Iron Piston early around 4 p.m. to do inventory. The club was empty except for a prospect named Rat who was mopping the floor. She went to the back office where the mail was piled up. Frank asked her to sort it sometimes, mostly bills and junk mail. But today there was a small padded envelope addressed to her.
Sarah Miller, care of the iron pistol. No return address. Her hands shook as she tore it open. Inside was a flash drive and a single index card. On the card in handwriting she recognized instantly were three words.
"I'm so sorry. ". It was Gary. Sarah stared at the card. Rage and relief warred in her chest.
He was alive. He knew where she was, which meant he had been watching her. She plugged the flash drive into the dusty office computer. It was password protected. She tried the usual.
His birthday, her birthday, the name of their first dog. Nothing. Then she typed in the date of their wedding. Access granted. The folder opened.
It wasn't porn. It wasn't gambling debts. It was a spreadsheet. rows and rows of numbers, dates, and names. And at the top of the document, a logo, Apex Living Property Management.
Sarah frowned. That was the company trying to evict her. As she scrolled, the realization hit her like a physical blow. This wasn't a rent roll. It was a ledger.
Laundering, kickbacks, bribes. Gary hadn't just borrowed money from loan sharks. He had been working as a bookkeeper for a front company, Apex Living, and he had stolen their black ledger. "Oh, "Gary," Sarah whispered. "What did you do?
" The collectors weren't debt collectors. They were cleaners. They didn't want the money Gary owed. They wanted this drive, and they thought Sarah had it. Suddenly, the front window of the bar shattered.