Me: I don’t care how well Shadow vetted this. Something seems off.
I only have to wait a couple seconds before he replies.
Phantom: I know. You packin’?
I’m not. All my guns are at the compound, safely far away from Aurora and my recent outburst of rage.
Me: No.
I’m trying to figure out why I feel like shit. Why none of this is sitting right. I keep an eye on Shadow, and sure enough, he’s talking like a time-sharesalesman to Marybeth. She keeps looking toward the diner door, no doubt waiting for her notary to come through.
I look away from the windows and scan the parking lot when a faded orange, rusted, shitstain of a pickup truck catches my eye. I process it in slow motion, realizing it looks familiar, and that’s when I feel a sick sensation climbing up my throat.
Mad Dog.
That’s fucking Mad Dog’s truck. I scan the lot, my pulse ratcheting up in my chest. I don’t see any bikes or signs of trouble, but Shadow started talking with this lady just days or weeks after the deal went down with Mad Dog. It’s gotta be him, and he’s gotta be involved.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but there’s no way this is a coincidence. Something big is going down, and I sure as fuck don’t like surprises—especially these kinds of surprises.
I go into the group chat and text both Shadow and Phantom. Viper and Blade, our club treasurer, are in the chat too. Blade’s been on the money stuff every step of the way, and Viper’s prepared to show up if we need backup. We just might.
Me: Abort. Hellfires on site.
I notice Shadow’s shoulders pick up inside, and he raises a finger to Marybeth, while he excuses himself to check his phone. I’ve got one leg out of the truck, my boot planted on the asphalt, when I’m kicked sidewaysin the left knee. I curse to the holy heavens and drop to my side, rolling to absorb the shock of falling.
“Always trying to be the hero,” a familiar voice sneers.
I’m on my back, looking up into an already dark Florida sky and into the filthy cowboy hat of Mad Dog. “What the fuck do you want, shit-for-brains? You starting something you’re ready to finish here?”
Mad Dog laughs and flicks open a knife with a blade about five inches long. It’s a filthy weapon, rusty and dirt-marred on the handle, but I can tell the point is sharp enough to do real damage.
I know Shadow is someplace inside that diner, and Phantom should still be in his truck. For now, this is between Mad Dog and me. I decide to play up the injury to my knee, so I fake trying to struggle to get up and suck air.
“Goddamn,” I groan. I was never one for theater in school, but Mad Dog seems more intent on staring at Shadow than worrying about me. I’m on the ground between my truck and another parked car. Nobody inside that diner is going to see him if he decides to bend down and gut me like a fish or put a boot to my nuts.
My mind races, and I think long and hard about what he wants. “You in on this deal?” I ask him. “You the one who’s got a note on that debt?”
Mad Dog spits tobacco through his teeth, and it lands on the leg of my jeans. “Stupid little shit,” MadDog says. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
Thankfully, he is predictable as well as distracted, so when he rears back to plant one of those boots in my gut, I roll onto my side. He reacts fast, but I’m faster, and I kick out with my right foot, trip his ass to the ground, and make a play for his knife.
What happens next is a blur of cursing and fists. I’m hitting him, dodging blows, and trying to make sure the knife, which he took a punch to the belly in order to grab, doesn’t land in a place that’s gonna make me bleed.
I hear motion around us, and suddenly Phantom’s behind Mad Dog, his arms locking him tight in a choke hold. Phantom hisses in Mad Dog’s ear, “What the fuck is this? You trying to start a war, you worthless little prick?”
“The only worthless prick is this piece of shit. The one who thought he could buy my niece and my brother’s bitch.”
When he refers to Claire and Aurora, just the fact that he’s even thinking about them anymore, my sight goes red. I haul off and punch him in the gut so many times, he doubles over and spits a thick stream of bloody spittle onto the ground.
I grab the knife from his weak hand just as Shadow comes running up.
“Shit’s off,” he says, his voice low. “Deal’s not happening. That bitch played me.”
He registers slowly that Phantom’s holding Mad Dog and I’ve got the asshole’s knife in my hand.
“Savage,” Shadow says. “Think about what you’re doing.”
Shadow’s hands are in the air, and he’s giving me the “put it down” sign. My heart is pumping hard, adrenaline urging me to finish this fuck. Put this knife through Mad Dog’s heart and end whatever this is once and for all.
