Saving Mia by Michelle Woods

on?” Pretty Boy demanded.
    It surprised him that Ratchet that he was still so upset. They’d been dealing with shit like this for the past three years. Maybe this was the straw that broke his back, so to speak. He thought watching Pretty Boy jump up and pace with Bone.
    “I don’t fucking know, but this shit has got to stop. We’re discussing taking this to the next level in church this week. I’ve had enough of this fucking bullshit. I am not going to have that be one of our women. Not ever again.” Bone’s cold voice broke across the room with a chill.
    Ratchet couldn’t blame the man. He was right enough was enough. Looked like they were going to war. Fuck. This was going to fuck with his plans though. He wouldn’t be able to go to the city as much. They’d leave that to the prospects they trusted while the club handled the harder stuff. Fuck, he thought. Plopping down in a chair to wait on word about the girl's condition from Doc with the others.

Chapter 8
     
    Mia stood at her desk trying to figure out how seven crates of goods just this week were missing from the warehouse. She didn’t understand. She’d designated two crate to the rebels, but somehow seven were missing. How had this happened? She wondered desperately. Only she knew. Oh boy, did she know. She’d given Tray the key this time because she wasn’t able to get the crates out because Hilconn was on duty this week, and he had it out for her.
    Ever since Ratchet had given her that stupid discount on the damned crates he and his club had brought, the man had been nothing but trouble. Fuck. What was she going to do? Hilconn was going to notice seven crates of missing food. Why had she agreed to do this again? What the fuck had she been thinking? She should have just made those idiots wait until she could work a deal with the suppliers. Then she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Shit, how was she going to get out of this mess?
    If she could only talk to Ratchet, maybe he could help. She could pay him for some extra crates of supplies then put them in the warehouse. Maybe in a room normally not for food storage and “find” them. Shit, that wouldn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. They weren’t due for two days and there was no way for her to get a message to him. She’d have to go see Tray. Tell him to give back the extra crates he’d taken last night. That could work. Yeah, that’s what she’d do. She sent him a coded message to meet her tonight.
    She waited for over an hour until he finally sent her a message back agreeing to meet. Fuck, this was a nightmare.
    “Hilmia, I just wanted you to know I had to report those missing crates. It wasn’t my choice of course, but procedure. You know how it is.” Hilconn sing-songed, a look of satisfaction on his face. Yes, and he hadn’t enjoyed that report at all she’d bet, she thought grimly. Asshole.
    “I understand, Hilconn. It was necessary. I intended to report it myself today.” Mia told him even though she hadn’t been about to report it at all. She would get those crates back from Tray, and put them back. Then she’d be okay, and this time she’d do it right. She’d work on getting a deal from the three suppliers. That was her only way to help the rebels now.
    “Of course, my dear, of course. Just didn’t want you in trouble for not reporting it. I know that it’s a lot of responsibility this job. You should really allow me to help you.” The little shit was telling her with a smug expression. She really hated him. The man was after her job, and today she was tempted to just let him have the damned thing.
     
    It was nine thirty, and Tray still hadn’t shown at their meet. She sent him a message about ten minutes ago, after waiting for an hour for him to show. Where the hell was that little shit? The Slum bell was about to ring in twenty minutes and she knew that he wasn’t going to cut it that close. He was always out of the city well before last bell.
    She took a deep