“Police.” Dean flashes a badge in one hand, holding his weapon in the other. “We need a word with Spider.”
Two grizzly, gray-beards snicker by the pool table. The one in a red-checkered shirt sinks a striped ball into the back corner pocket, leans on his stick, and raises his brows. “Don’t know anyone by that name.”
I empty the sack on the makeshift bar and the cellphones clink and clatter. “We left your friends in a cornfield. These belonged to them.”
Well, at least we got their attention. Five heads turn toward one wearing an eye patch who we can now assume is their leader. The biker’s knife scar runs down his cheek, and from his sneer and the AK pointed at our bellies, I would guess he means to kill us.
No one blinks or moves. Even the fat belly bent over the pool table remains frozen as Spider sucks air through his teeth.
“You two got a death wish?”
Face grim, hand steady, Dean aims his Glock at the biker’s heart. “Not so much. We don’t need more trouble. Give me the name of who hired you to go after the women.”
“Six of us, two of you. Odds are in our favor.” As the president shifts on his feet, a click sounds from an open window.
The deafening blast happens so fast and so loud, for a moment, I wonder if someone lobbed a grenade.
Spider puts a hand to his bloody ear while the others search for a shooter but she’s outside and holding the hair-trigger AK like she was born with it. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Cursing, the boss motions for his men to drop their weapons and glares at the girl. “You got balls, kid.”
“Name please.” At her sweet smile, the tatted felon belly-laughs.
“Mark Snyder, whatever that’s worth to ya. Now get the fuck out of my clubhouse.”
With the barrel of Charlie’s weapon resting on the windowsill, Dean and I back out of the building. Once we’re clear, Dean hurries the teen into the vehicle leaving me to stab twelve motorcycle tires.
Chapter 7
Dean Brennan
As I drive away from the club, my knuckles turn white and my teeth clench. While Sky’s plan worked, I have a tough time believing the FBI would sanction using a teenage kid to watch your six. In fact, when I mull over her story, I wonder if the gorgeous brunette works for the Feds at all. Perhaps, she has her own agenda, noticed my attraction to her, and has played me for a rube. Well, if she is a Fed, she won’t mind me calling Manhattan’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.
“The JTTF owes me a favor.” After I make my decree, I turn my head toward her, but she doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Go ahead.” Tone neutral, her long lashes lift to reveal her unwavering gaze.
“What about your handler?” Thank God, for the road, which forces my eyes back on point and breaks the spell she has on me.
“He’s been unreachable for over two days.” For a moment, her whisper doesn’t register, but when it does, my brain explodes.
Holy fucking crap, I am way out of my depth. My bullets will be found in those bikers, and I’ll be looking at life. Both fists clenched, I call my brother, Adrian, and brace for the fallout.
“This better be good, pissy-pants.” Ade’s gravelly voice, added to the nickname, tells me all I have to know about his bullshit-o-meter’s tolerance.
In these situations, my end of the conversation needs to stay short and precise. “I want you to bring O’Brien on board.”
“Because?” His terse tone grates on my nerves. Sure, it’s a huge ask, but he doesn’t need to be an asshole about it.
“Long story.” I hesitate and use the time to pray he’ll bail me out without a long lecture.
“Dude, you’re the one who woke me up in the middle of the fucking night. Spill.”
“Didn’t Drac fill you in?” In all fairness, it’d be easier if I didn’t have to start from the get-go.
“No. And don’t tell me you dragged him into one of your messes.” Hiswife says something in the background, and his voice softens as he tells her to go back to sleep.
Hoping Essy’s calm disposition rubs off on him, I ’fess up. “Okay, I won’t say it out loud, but I may have asked him for a little help.”
