Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Cora POV

Hacker was at his monitor, his fingers flying over his computer. I was beginning to accept that this was his everyday, knee–deep on the computer, looking at something. He was good at what he does, and his knowledge of computers, the internet and hacking was outstanding. I can see where he got his name from.

“Good, you are here, come look at this.”

Together, Hacker and I worked on the computer. He hacked in, and I searched the files on one computer while he worked on another.

Scones brought in sandwiches, juice and coffee. The day was sailing by.

We had five vans, two that were headed towards us, and three that went through some of the other areas where the shootings had happened.

A

“We need to inform Oddball, so he can contact the clubs in that area about what we found. Those men are

killers.”

“Yes, we have done all we can for now. We have the names and addresses of the suspects and of everyone who works at that place. We need to find other links, more than just that they work in the same place, like are the bosses involved in this too?”

“It’s getting late, let’s get to the office while they are still in there.” Hacker stood up, grabbed his laptop, and I followed him out the door. Hacker was in full adrenaline mode, getting worked up over our findings. A whole company could be the shooters, which scares the hell out of me.

Oddball, Dizzy, and Gunner were all in the office still. Hacker didn’t even knock; he pushed the door open, and I heard Oddball’s comment about why I was so involved, which made me wonder if he was right.

No, I am not doing this for my stepbrother, or for myself, but for all those innocent ones I have seen coming into the hospital, for all those that the police have not helped, when they complained about a shooter out there, and they didn’t believe them. It took deaths for the police to act, and yet they are still hesitant to believe that someone out there was shooting out tyres, even with all the complaints they have had. It makes me think the police may have their hand in this, too.

If some of the police are involved, where does that leave us?

The taxpayers, who pay their salaries.

Are we their tools to play with, choosing which crimes they will investigate and which ones are not important enough to look into? I was about to blame the police, but I shouldn’t yet. I don’t have proof that they aren’t looking into the case. But they certainly aren’t sharing information. That much I do know.

The men looked up at us as we entered the room, and Dizzy’s face dropped and returned quickly to a

Chapter 73

blank face. Hmm. interesting, bet he was wondering how much we heard.

Pents

Oddball, you need to see this.” Hacker, either unaware of the conversation or not taking it seriously, got right into business, and for the next hour we went over our findings, answered questions, and they changed some of their plans. Oddball called the other clubs in a combined group chat. Oddball felt they might need this information, and soon, more emails went out sharing it. Oddball also discussed his plans

to a lesser extent.

It was late, like nine o’clock, before the calls were finished, and the time for a late dinner arrived. Scones, as always, had saved food for us in a warm oven, and we sat with steak, mashed potatoes and vegetables. It was not the same as a few hours old, but none of us complained as we downed the food, and I headed to bed. I was bushed, it was a lot of thinking, worse than cramming for an exam.

Mid–morning, I woke up to an empty bed. Gunner had left, the shower still wet, a quick shower, and then stood in front of the wardrobe, wondering what to wear to this meeting. I put on jeans and a shirt, then started working on what to wear. I pulled out some slacks (too casual) and put them back, then a pencil skirt and top (too businesslike) and put them back as well. I must have pulled everything I owned out of

the robe and put it back, not happy with any of my choices.

Gunner walked in with a tray of food and a smile, which dropped when he saw my frustrated face.

“What’s the matter, Babe?” he asked, placing the breakfast, which was more like lunchtime now.

“What do I wear to the meeting? I need a good first impression, especially if father is going to spoil it all.” I sounded like I was about to burst into tears.

“Hey, go as you, not out to impress, but a woman wanting to help the community. If you go all official, the people might see you as some corporate secretary, You’re there for the people, not the top brass.” Gunner was standing behind me, looking at the walk–in robe.

“That light blue top, with those black slacks,” Gunner suggested, and moved to pull them out, holding them up together for me to look at.

“The soft blue will make you look less harsh, more approachable. Wear your blue sneakers, like you’re

୮ someone who jogs around the park. Hair pinned back in a ponytail.”

“You’re right, I need to look like someone who uses the park, and that will make them believe I know what I am talking about first–hand. Thank you.” I gave him a sweet kiss and placed the clothes on the bed to change into later today.

Gunner dragged me out onto the balcony with the tray of food and a bottle of water, and we sat, relaxed “Work is, your, Dad will be at the meeting. He has been seen visiting some council members, possibly to get more information on the meeting and or the agenda,” Gunner revealed after I had relaxed in the chair. “Thought he would, he would want to make a dramatic arrival, throw something out there to discredit me, but I have to laugh. What’s to discredit? I’ve submitted a complaint and a suggestion for improvements. I haven’t said I am anything more than a concerned jogger. The complaint was very detailed, above average,

Chapter 23-

and involved too many people. I wonder if Dad knows who I sent them to, because the news reporters

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