The ride to Black Forge took less than twenty minutes, but it felt like crossing into a different life. I’d expected leather jackets, motorcycles and maybe a warehouse full of men who looked like they’d stepped out of an action movie.
Instead, Cass drove through the gates of a stone building with BLACK FORGE SECURITY written across the front in steel letters.
I looked at him. “This is Black Forge?”
He nodded. “Part of it.”
“What happened to the motorcycles?”
“At the clubhouse.”
“So where’s the clubhouse?”
“You’ll see it later.”
I looked back out the window.
There were security barriers, cameras covering every entrance and enough expensive vehicles in the parking lot to make it look more like the headquarters of a multinational company than a security company owned by a mo
