“Yeah, well, allegiances change all the time.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” King snarled.
“My club outed me. The underworld knows who I am!” I roared, pushing King off me.
King frowned, shaking his head. “Reaper didn’t out shit. No one knows who you are.”
“Bullshit!” I snapped. “Then why is there a bounty on my head? Why are the Death Dogs hunting my woman?”
I heard Nav growl, “Fuck,” as he opened his computer and reached for his phone, placing a call before he started typing. Hearing the ringing tone, I glared at King, who refused to move or break eye contact, when we all heard someone say, “He there?”
“Yeah,” Nav groaned, typing fast into his computer. “Just strolled in. What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. You just make sure he stays there. A package should be arriving shortly for him. You tell that fucking dick of a president of yours that if he knows what’s good for him, he better sit on the two of them until this shit gets sorted out.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” Nav clearly said, looking at me.
“Then fix it!” the voice snarled before the line disconnected.
“Fix what?” I seethed, taking a step toward Nav, who turned his computer around so I could see the screen.
“This.”
There, in black and white, was my face along with a dollar amount. The message was clear: One million dollars to the person, club, or organization that apprehended or killedJackson ‘Ravage’ Baudelaire, son of Morpheus, president of the Brotherhood of Bastards MC.
“Holy shit,” King cursed, raking his hands through his hair as he asked. “Has Reaper seen that?” Before anyone could answer, his phone rang. Reaching for it, he looked at the screen and groaned, holding up his phone for me to see.
It was Reaper.
Connecting the call, King placed his phone on the table and pulled out a chair. “I take it you saw?”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Reaper roared, just as something crashed against the wall. “When I find the motherfucker who outed my brother, I’m going to fucking gut him from asshole to pie hole!”
“Boss, Sypher ain’t picking up.” I clearly heard a dead man’s voice and stiffened, right before I snagged King’s phone and snarled, “Who the fuck was that?”
“Oh!” Reaper scoffed. “Now you want to talk to me, asshole?”
“Who was that?” I asked again, barely hanging onto my rage.
“It’s Massacre,” King offered, looking up at me. “He didn’t die in the warehouse. He’s back in California with Amber and the rest of the Golden Skulls.”
“WHERE YOUR ASS SHOULD BE!” Reaper shouted, then took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with you right now. I’ve got shit in Oklahoma to handle. You deal with him, King.”
And like the call from moments before, Reaper hung up.
King and I stared at the phone before he turned to look at me and growled, “I really fucking hate you Golden Skulls.”
Chapter Nine
Reaper
Lawton, Oklahoma...
Hanging up on King, I turned back to my current problem.
“Control your boy, Max!” fucknuts shouted at me as Ghost and Sandman tried to lock down Shadow, who stood snarling, trying to get his hands on Slaughter. “I can’t hear the fucking attorney!”
Turning to look at the annoying fucker, I yelled, “How about you put a fucking cork in the jailbird and get your lazy ass over here and help me!”
