Prologue

Nike looked around the office; everything was coming together. After being gone for a week a lot had been done. It was her first day on the job, and she was excited. Hopefully, Treat, and her men were going to come in today, she hadn’t had a chance to talk to her last night since they had arrived so late. She grinned to herself—yeah, the woman was getting her tat today. That should be fun to watch; they were doing it here in the med room. Treat loved tats, but her men didn’t know she was a total p sy when it came to the needle. Cried every damn time. Kink usually wanted to tranq her; it was always entertaining when Treat got a tat. Hell, Shay and the others wanted her to video it and send it to them for fun.

Bob and Nike were staying put for now in Cali, Shady asked them to help cover the new setup, and truthfully, they didn’t care, it was a vacation for them. They were dealing with Trixie; so far, the bitch had given them no information. They had run her prints, but nothing popped. Now they were digging, and with Data helping, they should have some information soon. At least they hoped they did.

Nike hadn’t even dealt with the fact that during the clusterf^k with Trixie, her father’s men had shown up and shot Lane. She had told Freebyrd, and he agreed to deal with it when she got back, he wanted an explanation of what the f^k was going on. They knew who her father was, well, they knew what he was, not who, she had never given names except to Creed, he was the only one who knew. Now she was gonna have to deal with her family, and damn it; her father was going to freak. He already knew she belonged to the club; he accepted it, kinda. He never understood why she chose to belong to the Warriors, even when she tried to explain to him they were like family. She would deal with that later; Free already told her to come by the house tonight to talk.

Nike was on phone duty today. Bic and Treat had broken the work up into different areas, so everyone would have a chance to get to know each section, which was in the note on the desk at least.

Nike began to wander through the house; there was the office, where Boony worked, which Bob was currently covering. She paused and talked to her friend for a second but moved on when Boony walked in covered in only a towel around his waist. That was entertainment at its finest. Then there was the clinic, which Boo was commanding, although, they each needed to be trained in basic first aid. The phones were the hotlines they set up; it was how women could get in touch with them, the numbers had been printed on cards and slipped into appropriate women’s hands by different people they now had contact with. Including several workers in Social Services, which knew that sometimes the law wasn’t on the victim’s side. Then there were the interview rooms, where they would talk to the women individually to determine if they could help and what exactly the women were asking for. Finally, the houses, whoever was tasked to that made sure everything was stocked.

She was putting the desk in order when the first call came in, and it was one Nike wasn’t prepared for.

“Hello,” she said in the receiver.

“My mommy’s not moving,” a tiny little voice said.

Shit, it was a child? “What is your name?”

“My mommy’s not moving, she was crying so hard, she said to push one on the phone and tell them to come here. So, can you come?” the girl said.

“Honey, what is your name?” Nike whispered, stood, walked to the hallway, and snapped her fingers to Boony who was playing on the computer. When he looked up, she mouthed to him, “Trace.” He nodded, and Bob stood, came to her side, and listened.

“Honey, where is your mommy?” Nike said.

“In bed,” the girl sighed. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, baby, we are coming,” Nike replied.

“Okay,” the girl said.

Boony held up a piece of paper, and Nike said to the girl, “My friend is gonna talk to you while I come to you, okay? His name is Boony.”

“Okay,” the girl said.

Boony looked panicked, but he took the phone and talked softly to the little girl.

“Grab Match, we gotta roll,” Nike said, and Bob nodded.

Shit, it was a kid, she shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, Nike thought as she ran to her bike.

As she mounted, Treat, War, Stone, and a limo pulled up to the curb. She didn’t have time to explain, so she just waved at them to follow her. Damn, they were going to need all the help they could get with a kid and a mother who was in an unknown condition.

Her eyes hit the two-people getting out from the limo, and she froze, what the f^k?

“Mom…Dad…what the f^k are you doing here?” Nike yelled.

Treat had a weird look on her face when she turned to look from Nike to her mother and father.

“Shit, never mind, wait inside in the office. I will be back and then we can sort this out. We gotta get moving, a child called the hotline,” Nike yelled, and she gunned the engine and took off.

She should have looked to see who was following her, but she didn’t care, she only knew she needed to move and move fast. The child was with a mother who was evidently unconscious; anything could happen.

Bob roared to her side on her bike as they neared the exit of the compound. The gates opened, and she nodded to the Prospect who was standing there.