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Kierra bursts out laughing.

"Do all your friends have terrible timing?"

"Starting to think it's a club requirement."

I fish the phone from my pocket.

Unknown number.

I answer. "Vex."

A beat of silence.

"Colt?"

I frown.

"Who's this?"

"Melvin Levine."

Fuck me.

It is him.

"Mel?"

"Yeah, brother. Been a while."

We served together before either of us learned how little a uniform guarantees about the man wearing it.

Mel once hauled my ass out of a wrecked vehicle while I argued I could walk.

Couldn't.

Bastard never let me forget it.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "Thought you were dead."

"Been accused of looking like it."

I rise from the couch.

Kierra looks up.

I squeeze her shoulder before moving toward the window.

"How'd you get this number?"

"Old contact. Heard you were with some motorcycle club in Roseburn Falls. Took a few calls to find you."

"Damned Sinners."

"Yeah. That's it."

"You all right?"

Silence.