“Jesus Fucking Christ.”
“Sorry, Edge.”
“Where?”
“In the boot and not very bloody well hidden.”
“Where in the boot, Grind?”
“Under the torn carpet.”
“You’re certain?”
“Quite.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Albeit temporary.
“What of it?” he asked.
“It wasn’t there two nights ago.”
“You’re certain?” he repeated my words.
“Quite. Someone planted it between then and now, which means that someone was watching us.” Something else occurred to me. “Have it swept.”
“Understood.”
When my friend rounded his horse and took off, I was right behind him.
Decker took care of having Rebel’s car swept for devices of any kind while Grinder and I waited at his new place for Rile to arrive with Casper and Kick.
Calla “Casper” Rey and I had worked together on a number of ops both for SIS and privately. She liked to say she was a hardworking hard-ass with a hard body—all of which were true.
Even though Kick had been well vetted, the fact that, to my knowledge, none of us had ever run an op with him still bothered me. I flexed my hand; it was becoming a reflex, and I needed to get it under control. It happened increasingly more often when I was stressed. That couldn’t happen while I was undercover.
“Everything okay?” Grinder asked, looking at my right hand.
“Something about this Kick guy isn’t sitting right with me.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Where’s Jagger?”
“Rile asked me to put him and Rage on standby.”
“For?”
“If necessary, he wants to send Jagger into Los Aztecas.”
I raised a brow. “Interesting call. He plans to send Rage into the Crips?”
“Affirmative.”
It made sense to have them available to go undercover in the ABT’s biggest allies. “Anything else I should know?”
“Rile thinks it was an inside job. Someone within the ABT wanted Possum taken out.”
“Which is why they pinned it on Rebel instead of a rival gang.” Possum wasn’t important en