She pressed again.
“Wyatt. Back room. Now.”
Footsteps approached from the main bar.
The rear door shook harder.
Wyatt entered.
One look at Tommy.
One look at the duffel.
His entire posture changed.
“What did you do?”
Tommy began speaking too fast.
Wyatt lifted a hand.
“Stop.”
The room became still.
Wyatt looked at Samantha.
“Anybody outside?”
“More than one motorcycle.”
“Front door?”
“Still locked.”
Wyatt turned toward Tommy.
“You stay here.”
Then he used the internal phone to call Grizzly and two senior members.
No theatrics.
No threats.
No running outside.
The club locked down the building and contacted an attorney they used when legal trouble crossed their door.
The men outside shouted from the alley for several minutes, demanding property they claimed belonged to them.
Wyatt never opened the door.
Eventually they left.
Samantha stood behind the storage shelves listening to their engines disappear into rain.
Her legs shook.
Wyatt noticed.
“You okay?”
“No.”