Ainsley stands next to me as I turn my back to Biggs’ office door. To our surprise, the bar is actually making a killing tonight with the live band some of the boys booked. Drunk men meander around with their bottles slightly tipped towards the ground, while young girls in boots and short-shorts lean into them, looking for free drinks.
None of the guys walking past Ainsley and me to hit the bathrooms are with our club, but you can’t be too careful when you’re breaking into a motorcycle club president’s office. We stare at one another, smiling; trying to look convincing as a couple just getting some air from the noisy, smoke-filled bar.
When it clears, I use my basic lock picking skills to use a credit card to slide open the basic bolt lock, making a mental note to replace the lock on my
