Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(9)

Case stares at me, his blue eyes squinting down into slits as he looks me straight on. I might scare a lot of people in this town, but Case Reider is not one of them. We go back way too far. We’ve done too much, seen too much, and owe each other our lives many times over.

He’s wearing a suit tonight, and his fancy trenchcoat is draped over the back of his stool. His shoes are high-end leather. Unlike the biker boots I wear. And I know he’s got a knife strapped to his calf under those expensive trousers. It’s one more thing that sets us apart because I don’t bother with knives.

I prefer weapons that shoot shit. Anything. Bullets, cartridges, grappling hooks, grenades, rockets, and spears. If you can blast it out of a barrel and use it to climb, kill, escape, maim, or poison, I’ve got a way to shoot it. Ballistics weapons are my best friends. I live, eat, breathe, and dream of ways to use them.

I don’t use them. Not yet. Don’t have to. My methods right now are discreet and untraceable. The guns are being saved for something special.

And of course, I have Sheila to make sure my aim is true. Because every gun I make is coded with her AI program for accuracy. Just like the car. Just like the bike—before I crashed it, anyway. I need to fix that thing because the new prototype isn’t ready yet.

“You’re gonna f*ck this all up, I just know it,” Case says, taking a sip of his own drink. He prefers a nicely aged Scotch, while I like domestic whiskey. The mountains flanking Cathedral City on all sides are home to some of the oldest distilleries in the country and I like to take advantage of that. “And that’s why—”

His words are cut off by another blast of cold air from the door. I reach for my gun under my coat, and I’m pointing it at the shadowed figure in the doorway before the wind dies.

But I lower it just as quickly and snarl, “What the f*ck is he doing here?”

Thomas Brooks’ gaze wanders down to my black leather gloves before he stuffs his own pair into the pocket of his dark gray trenchcoat. He walks towards me as Case stands.

“I was invited,” Brooks says simply, sliding his coat over the back of the barstool on the other side of me. “Because you don’t seem to be very dependable these days. You’re going off the rails, brother. And Case thinks you need a little intervention.” He sends me a snarled grin. “Isn’t that right, Case?”

I turn to Case and he’s already shaking his head, knowing I’m about to protest. “Don’t bother, Linc. He’s right. I told him everything. You can’t go off-script like this. You can’t just start killing whoever you want and call it justice. We’re not on board with the way you’re handling things.” He pauses to stare me down. “You need to remember what the hell we’re doing here, man. That’s all this is.”

“That’s f*cking classic coming from the two of you.”

“Martini,” Brooks says to Mac, who, when I look over at him, is looking like he might bolt out the back door any second. “And relax, Mac, it’s me. He’s not doing anything stupid tonight because we all know who’s in charge when I’m in the room.”

“You prick—”

“Lincoln,” Case says, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around to face him. “Shut the f*ck up and listen. Because he’s back and when he’s back, he’s the boss. There’s nothing you can do to stop that aside from killing him, and we all know you won’t do that.”

“We have history,” Thomas says, talking more to Mac than me. “And if you want a fight, Lincoln, I’ll give you one. But don’t expect me to pull any punches for old times’ sake.” He shoots me a semblance of a smile before turning his head to hide it. “Besides, we’re on the same side. We’ve always been on the same side, Lincoln. You just require regular convincing.”

My anger peaks, and maybe I can’t kill him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to have my say. “And why do you think I require regular convincing? Where the f*ck have you been for the past fifteen years? Huh? You just pack up and leave, no big deal. Case and I were the ones to put shit back together. You’re nothing but a corporate sellout. A pig in a sty filled with filth just like all the others.” I sneer it at him, seething with anger. “You know what Case and I call you behind your back?”

“Come on, Lincoln—”

“No, f*ck you, Case. You get all paranoid because I go missing for a few hours—”

“A whole f*cking day, you *. A night and a day, actually. Where the hell did you go? And what’s the deal with the girl?”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“I hope you did it right,” Thomas says, taking his martini from Mac, who makes another quick escape down to the other end of the bar. “Because you’re f*cking up a lot of plans right now.” He glares at me from the corner of his eye. “And we never gave you authority to start killing people.”

“We? What is this we shit? You’re so sure we’re on the same team, Thomas?” I laugh, it’s so absurd. “Maybe we were way back, but you haven’t been one of us for a very long time, brother. Way too long to just start talking about bygones. So why don’t you put your fancy black gloves back on, take your coat off that stool, walk back the way you came, and go f*ck yourself.”