“Out of here it is.”
I took her hand and pulled her toward my bike. It wasn’t my Harley Street Glide, but something less conspicuous. And this bitch knew nothing about bikes, so it didn’t mean shit to her. All she cared about was the pulsing between her thighs as she climbed on behind me and slid on the helmet I handed to her. Her arms wrapped around my middle, holding on to me tightly as I started the engine and pulled away from the bar.
Clearly no one had ever warned her about staying away from the boogeyman, because this girl was far too eager to be fucked by a goddamn stranger. And I was the biggest boogeyman she was ever going to meet. Because I didn’t just wait under your bed for you to fall asleep. I was a walking, talking nightmare that would haunt your waking self as well.
Her grip tightened and I felt my top lip rise in disgust for her. I’d already decided that my dick wasn’t going anywhere near this skank. I wasn’t that desperate. Sure, I liked a woman I could bend to my whim, but this bitch had no pride. And what’s pussy if it had no pride?
Boring, that was what.
And I had no time in my life for boring.
A little alcohol and my brand of convincing would soon have her opening up like a flower and spilling her friends’ secrets to me, I had no doubt. One way or another, this woman would tell me everything that I needed to know about Penny and how to get her on her own.
*
“You got that shit handled yet?” Gauge asked.
“Soon,” I replied before taking a mouthful of beer.
“How soon?”
I turned to face him. “Tonight soon.”
He nodded, his expression dark. “I’ll let Hardy know.”
I turned back to my beer and took another mouthful. It tasted like flat piss. “Barrel needs changing,” I grunted before sliding off my stool and stepping away from the bar. The truth was, I wanted away from Gauge and Hardy and all their shady shit.
The fact that my prez and sergeant at arms still hadn’t filled Rider, our VP, in on their little plan was unsettling. Rider was clever. Really fucking clever. That was why he was VP, after all, and I couldn’t think of a single reason as to why Hardy wouldn’t heed any advice given to him by Rider. The only thing I could guess was that Hardy and Gauge knew Rider would try and talk them both out of this bullshit plan.
Which meant he wouldn’t like it, and if he didn’t like it, it was probably a really fucking bad idea. I imagined it must be like poking a wasp’s nest with a short stick.
Not a lot made me feel dirty in this life, but this sure as hell did.
I climbed down the wooden steps to the basement to change out the barrel. The clubhouse was quiet that day, with only one or two men hanging around. All of our legal businesses were busy and the money was rolling in; cars and bikes were filling up the small space of the garage and Jesse, Pipes, and Axle had been working on the backlog of vehicles since Skinny was out of commission at the moment. They’d talked about expanding, but Hardy was against the idea. Casa and Cutter were at the Pit and had barely made an appearance in the clubhouse all week, thanks to some new girls they’d taken on. The other strip joint in town—the Star & Garter—had been closed down by the sheriff for some shady shit, meaning the Highwaymen now owned the only strip club, and business was booming. And Butch, Dom, and Dexter were working down in construction for a new office or some shit that was needed for the mayor. Ironic that the mayor was hiring our MC to do the work for him because we were the cheapest and the best. Guess it just showed how corrupt shit really was in this town.
Regardless, when evening came, that was a time for us. For my brothers to relax with their women and drink. And my brothers would need beer that didn’t taste like flat piss when they got back later, so I trudged down the stairs and changed the barrel quickly.
I disconnected the pipe work and reattached it to the new barrel before rolling the old one into the corner with the others ready for collection later in the week. The club tended to use mostly bottles of beer and whiskey, but Hardy was a stickler for a freshly poured beer straight from the tap and he’d gotten a lot of brothers into it too.
I wiped my hands on a dirty rag and stuffed it in my back pocket as I climbed back up the stairs.
“He’s doing it tonight,” Gauge said, his voice muffled.
I paused on the stairs, feeling a scowl etch itself into my features.
“Should have been done two days ago when I asked him,” Hardy replied. The sound of his fist slamming on the bar was unmistakable.
“This bitch is protected. And you know Fighter—he likes to be efficient.”
“He’s turning into a pussy. How efficient do you need to be to kidnap one puny fuckin’ woman?”
I cracked my knuckles and stomped up the last three steps, coming into view of the bar.
“Two security on her at all times,” I said coming closer. Hardy and Gauge turned to stare. Gauge looked anxious, which did nothing to soothe my fractured mind. But Hardy? That cold-hearted bastard stared me down.
“A car picks her up after three hours of being out of the house, no matter where she’s been, what she’s doing, or who she’s been with. She carries a hand pistol, a knife, and a bottle of pepper spray at all times. She’s not allowed to associate with anyone that isn’t connected to the Vipers and everything is reported back to her daddy. Razuuk also likes to leave his signature on any man that even looks at his daughter; two long knife lines down the center of their face. Her apartment is alarmed on all the doors and windows, with constant CCTV security linked straight to her daddy’s men, whose private office is around the corner. Cameras probably inside her apartment too, though I haven’t been in and don’t intend on goin’ in.”
“What’s your fuckin’ point?” Hardy grumbled, his dark gaze still boring into me, but I didn’t miss the uncomfortable shift on his seat. I made him nervous. Other than Battle, I made most people nervous. And that was how I liked it.
