“Why in the hell would she do something crazy like that? How do they not know that she’s doing that?”
Cipher smiled. “She’s very skilled at making herself scarce when she wants to.”
I sucked in a shocked and exasperated breath. If I didn’t know what I did about my attacker, Diego would’ve been my first guess as to who would’ve been vile enough to put a hit out on key members of the Armada, but I knew better—Diego didn’t even know who the fuck I was, all he cared about was pussy, power, and territory.
“Now you see why I emailed you.”
I looked over at Cipher and studied him. I had no idea who the hell he was, but somehow, he had turned into the best ally I could have right now.
“Because she’s fucking the wrong man?” It came out as a question, but I meant it as a statement.
Cipher frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A Saint didn’t try to assassinate me; it was someone from the Armada.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“I saw the cut with my own two eyes. It was someone from the club, and that’s part of the reason I’m back. I’m going to find out who tried to take me out and do to them what they couldn’t do to me.”
Cipher quietly chewed on his lip. “This shit is worse than I thought. That means someone purposely tried to take you out in order to turn the club against the Saints.”
“What do you mean?”
“After your death, the club erupted into chaos. I had friends who were part of the club that left because Dutch went crazy and ended up getting stripped of his patch. Scythe got patched in as president and the club chose Switchblade as his VP. The second that son of a bitch took a role in leading the Armada, he had his hooks into Scythe, getting him into some hairy shit. We went from peacekeepers to disrupters overnight. The cops were all over your murder case. First you were listed as a missing person. Then they found remnants of your DNA in a shallow grave outside of town. Your cut was found not too far from that grave site, along with your wallet. There were drag marks heading away from your grave, so they assumed someone moved your body. Switchblade and a few others convinced Scythe that it was the Saints who had a hand in everything. After that, we were arms dealing, pimping out teen prostitutes, and slinging dope on the streets. It’s been a shit show.”
“Why did you join then?”
Cipher went back to chewing on his bottom lip. “My dad used to be Sgt. at Arms, before the Armada went to rat shit. When Scythe took over, he stepped down along with a few other club members, but before he left, my dad asked me to pledge the club to help them out. He said they needed an IT guy—they fucking wanted a hacker.”
“So, your dad’s Tank?”
Cipher nodded. “Not many people know my connection to him. I’d like to keep that between us if you don’t mind?”
I nod. He doesn’t even have to ask. Tank had always been good to me. If Dutch wasn’t acting like my father, then Tank was right behind him filling those shoes. “Was it Tank who asked you to look into me?”
Cipher grinned, “You’re pretty smart for a dead man. Your death never sat well with my dad. He said shit just didn’t make sense. You were a good guy, JD. You had mad respect from all the club members and when Scythe stepped up, you were next in line to be VP. My dad never wanted that position, he was dedicated to Dutch, and when Dutch’s mental health started going squirrelly, he knew it was time to hand in his cut and retire.”
“I didn’t know Tank had a son.”
“He didn’t talk about me much. My mom was a club whore who got knocked up one night after they fooled around. When she came sniffing around for money, he gave her a shit ton to disappear. When I got old enough to start asking questions, I found him using my amazing deduction skills, and the rest, they say, is history.”
I got up off the bed and started pacing the room. “Does your dad know I’m alive?”
“Nobody knows . . . yet. If you help me turn this club back into what it was before, nobody has to know who you are unless you want them to. Hell, you fooled Faith, and she’s had your dick in her.”
I glared at him. Nobody needed to talk about Faith in that manner, not even him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Down, boy. Don’t worry, you’ve changed your appearance enough that nobody is going to recognize you underneath all that beard and those tattoos. Do me a favor, though. Don’t blow your cover just yet. We need you to do this right. If this is going to work, nobody can know who you are, not even Faith.”
The thought of keeping my secret even longer had me even more agitated. I wanted to find my killer and be done with it. Now I have to deal with the Saints on top of it all. Nothing is easy anymore.
“Well, what exactly do you want me to do?”
Cipher grinned. “You already did that today by showing up and getting Scythe’s attention. Now you just need to get initiated back into the club. Which should be easy for you, you already know most of what we do.”
I stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Wait, are you saying you want me to prospect again?”
Cipher slapped me on the back and laughed. “No. Scythe wants you to prospect again. I’m just here to recruit you.”
I groaned loudly, “As long as I don’t have to be shop bitch again, I guess I can handle a little grunt work.”
“That’s the spirit. Scythe doesn’t know that I found you. In order for this to work, you’re gonna have to make him like you even more than you already have. You’ll need to be persistent. Come back to the bar again; keep coming back if you have to. I’ll do my best to make sure that no one fucks with you. I’m not sure what Scythe will do if you keep showing up, but I do know that he’s eyeing you for the club. Play dumb. Act like you don’t know shit about the club, lie if you have to. This will only work if they think you’ve never been patched in before.”
I nodded reluctantly. I knew that this was probably the only way I’d ever get back into the club, but the thought of doing bitch work all over again left a sour taste in my mouth. If what Cipher was saying was true, then the club was filled with a bunch of pissant jackasses that I’m not going to like being around, but if this gets me any closer to finding my killer and getting Faith back, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do just that, even being shop bitch again.
Chapter Seven
Faith
The worst part about leading a double life is escaping Diego’s world and reentering my own without getting caught. I usually try to scamper out early in the morning, before the sun has even decided to wake up, but for some reason I overslept. Diego was passed out next to me sawing logs. His snoring could put bears to shame. The weight of his heavy arm pinned me down, draped over my naked torso while he cupped my tits possessively. It took everything I had to move his arm without him waking up. I carefully grabbed my slutty clothing and put them back on. I hoped that the rest of his club had gone to bed, but when I opened the door, Marco was sitting in a chair with Angelique cuddled in his arms.
The second I closed the door; Angelique was hoping up and in my face.
“Did you think it would be that easy to get rid of me, bitch? Did you think any of those men would touch me knowing that I was Diego’s number two and Marco’s number one?”