“Yeah, me too.”
“Barber got Scar drunk, and we live together now, me and Scar. They’re twice as loud together when they’re getting along as when they’re fighting.”
Oz snorted and puffed on his cigar. “That can’t be possible.”
“Where’s your bike bitch? I haven’t seen you in here without him since you got together.” I raised my head and turned so I was facing him with my knee digging into the back couch cushion.
He shrugged. “Mississippi. His parents stopped paying for his apartment, and I wasn’t ready to move him into my house, so he left. Means I made a good decision.” He didn’t seem happy about it if his pinched expression was anything to go by.
“Sorry.”
“It wasn’t serious,” he said and stared straight ahead. He drew on his cigar until the end was a hellish red.
I’d had the idea thingswereserious between Oz and his last guy, but I also knew when to keep my mouth shut, so I nodded as if I agreed and had never had a thought to the contrary. Our peaceful silence was broken when a door slammed open in the hallway to our left—maybe it had been the one for King’s office—and then snotty crying carried out to us and got closer.
“No, no, stop,” a male voice begged, but then there was a grunt like someone was heaving a keg of beer. A man, I assumed the one who’d been pleading, came flying out into the barroom headfirst to sprawl out onto the floor on his stomach. He was too thin, all arms and legs.
“Belly flop!” Oz called brightly. “Good one.”
Hound stepped out after the man and crossed his thick arms, glaring down at him. His brown hair was slicked back with product and not a single strand was out of place. Jester walked out next and moved over to lean against the wall near the bar, and the hair on my arms stood up. His eyes were too intense as he stared at the unfortunate man, and the tattoo of a skull on his left hand seemed creepier than usual as he cracked his knuckles. If those two had been involved, whatever this poor guy had done was probably going to end in his death. I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for this today.
King stomped out to stare down at the man with a twisted expression, and the man rolled onto his back. He was young and not bad to look at, with big blue eyes and dark hair. His long legs were in khaki pants with brown leather on the inseams and back, something people wore to ride horses. His tall boots matched the pants and came up to his knees. They were a fancier version of my bike boots. The only thing that made him seem down-to-earth was the blood-dotted blue-and-red plaid shirt he wore. The scruff on his face marked him as older than I might have guessed he was otherwise. He seemed too young to be in the trouble he was in.
“Hughes,” King said as he spotted me. “You’ve got a cool head. I’m putting you in charge of this shit because I’m ready to fucking shoot this fucker now, and he owes me too much money for that, don’t you, Arvid?” The man on the floor cringed and tried to crawl away from King, but Hound came over and stomped him back onto the floor, where he huddled. King’s head shot up, and I almost pissed myself at the enraged glint in his eyes when he focused on me. It had been a long time since I’d seen him this way. “Charley, you’ve been too long in the club without an official position. I’m making you my bill collector, along with Hound here.” King went over and crouched, grabbing Arvid’s hair and cruelly dragging his head back until he let out a pained moan. King twisted Arvid’s head until he was staring at me and tears ran down his cheeks. “You see him?” King asked.
“Yes,” Arvid said, voice quavering.
“He’s going to be your shadow. He’s going to make your life a living, breathing hell until you pay back my loan, plus fifty percent for thinking you can fuck me over. I’m not a piece of shit loan shark, but you made your case for borrowing money, and I agreed. You’ve been in business for two years, and I haven’t seen a red cent yet.”
“King, please, there’s capital in the—”
King smashed Arvid’s face against the floor, not hard by his standards, but it had to have hurt a lot. “No fucking excuses. I expect regular payments until the loan’s satisfied. Pike’s going to be beating down your door. I don’t care what you have to do, make it fucking happen. Get the fuck out of here.”
Oz howled in laughter as Arvid scrambled away like a bat out of hell. King stood and crossed his arms as he watched Arvid go, shaking his head all the while.
“Pike?” I asked, still not certain he’d been talking about me.
King gave me a twisted little curl of his lips. “Fucking scarier thanFish.” He rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, you wanted a new job and you’ve been promoted. Work from anywhere. Set your own hours. Just get me my fucking money. You keep twenty percent of anything you collect. Hound, get him up to speed. Jester, with me.” He spun around and headed back down the hallway, and Jester, silent as usual, followed along in his wake.
“Do we really get to keep twenty percent?”
Hound grinned. “I hope you’re not thinking it’s easy money. There are risks. If you don’t want to do it, you better tell King now.”
Oz harrumphed. “Screw that. You can do it, kid.”
Standing, I rolled my shoulders and stared after the man who’d run out of here. “How much does he owe King?”
“Half a mil,” Hound said, as if it was twenty bucks.
I gaped at him before I got my act together. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah.” Hound went over to the bar and behind it. He pulled down a bottle of vodka and poured himself a shot, and then another I assumed was for me. I went over and joined him. My stomach wasn’t so happy with me, but I clinked my glass with his and downed the burning liquid. Together we slammed our glasses to the bar, and he smiled. “Usually people in this deep are fast to pay King back. It’s rare he has to go after someone for this much. They’re smarter men who know better.” He seemed excited about the prospect of this not being the case.
Nodding, I stared at my boots for a minute. “Fuck it. I need a change in pace. Why not?” Colton would hate this, even more than me working security, but I didn’t care. I had to live, and I was getting sick and tired of tossing drunk frat boys out of bars. Hound held out his hand to me and I shook it, feeling like I was sealing my fate. I was already a one-percenter, might as well start acting like it.
We spent the day going after a short list of men who’d pissed King off, and I almost felt like I was shadowing someone else to learn how to do a job, the same way I had when I’d started out at Nonno’s restaurant as a teenager. Hound had me do such fun things as “stand here and look pissed off,” or “hold a gun on him while I trash his house.” It was fun because all the people who’d earned a visit from us had it coming, as far as I could see. I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. We even spent part of the afternoon chasing a man, who was in some shit over a brick of cocaine, through downtown traffic on our bikes. He clearly hoped to hide from Hound. I’d thought Colton was good at tailing someone, but he had nothing on Hound.
My adrenaline went sky-high when we finally cornered the cokehead in a parking lot, and I helped Hound drag him out of his shiny blue Corvette. Hound had a real zest for the work, and he beat on the guy, probably cracking a couple of ribs, and seemed happy enough simply to have me there as company.
