“Why? A brother needs backup for meets, especially ones we’re kept out of,” Dom said, his brow furrowing. He threw his cigarette away and crossed his arms in front of him, his muscles twitching. Man was a fucking beast and he knew it. Never had to get into many fights because most people took one look and went in the opposite direction. Funny, really, considering he was a lover and not a fighter—at least if he could help it. His appearance was his camouflage. At least that’s what Butch had once told me.
“That’s what I said. He didn’t agree, though,” I replied.
All three of us sat in contemplative silence for several moments before the clubhouse door opened and Pipes and Max came out. They both seemed in a lot better state than Casa was in, that was for sure. Pipes sat down, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“We rollin’ out?” Pipes asked.
“Yeah, let me go find Beefcake and give my regards.” I stood up and headed back inside and Dom caught up to me. I looked across to him. “You my chaperone now?”
“Just wanna check on Harlow,” he replied.
“Harlow? She the chick with the huge—”
“Yeah. She’s a good girl. She’s better than what she thinks,” he replied.
I stopped and turned to look at him. “You sweet on her? You know she’s just a sweetbutt, right?”
Dom’s jaw clenched, his eyes going dark. “No one is everjusta something, Jesse. You should know that more than anyone.” His fierce gaze burned into mine, all familiarity gone out the window. I take back what I said about him being a lover and not a fighter.
However, he might have been older and stronger than me, but that made no difference as I squared up to him, because I was a cocky motherfucker who was done taking shit from anyone a long time ago.
“First off, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. And secondly, that chick is a hangaround. A club whore. A sweetbutt that’s taken more dick in all those little pretty puckered holes of hers than we’ll ever know. Bitch has probably taken it up the ass so much her shit slides right out. But if you want to have a ride, you have at it. I won’t judge you, brother. But remember to cover up before you blow your load, because bitches like that are always looking for a free ride.” I finished my angry speech and stared at him, but he didn’t reply. His eyes had no fire left in them and I wondered why I was pushing him on this. Why it fucking mattered to me who he fucked or staked a claim on.
I was a walking talking bomb, and I was ready to fucking explode, that’s why. And it didn’t look like I gave a shit who I hurt in the process.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” I gloated with a sneer. With that I pushed open the door and went inside the clubhouse, leaving Dom outside.
Harlow, or whatever the fuck her name was, was still sitting at the bar, her head drooping, but she perked right the fuck up when I walked back inside.
I headed down the hallway and thumped on Beefcake’s office door twice and waited.
“Gimme a minute,” he called.
I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the time. It was a little before nine, too early to be waking a brother up, but we needed to get back on the road—though by the sounds coming from in his office, he was already wide awake anyway. A few little yelps sounded out from inside Beefcake’s office, and he gave out a long, throaty growl that made me smirk. A minute went by before the door opened and a barely dressed woman walked out with an obvious limp in her step as she smoothed out her too-short skirt. She gave another one of her little yelps as he slapped her ass and she wandered off.
“Come on in,” he said, giving me a sly grin, his eyes following her ass down the hallway. “Bitch will be walking with a limp for days after that,” he said rearranging his junk.
I grinned back and walked inside. “Just letting you know that we’re headin’ out. Wanted to thank you for putting us up last night, and for your loyalty to the Highwaymen, of course. I’m sure Hardy will be in touch when the time comes.” I held out my hand and Beefcake took it, pulling me in to a quick hug before he pulled back out.
He looked at me uncertainly for a second, dragging a hand across his chin.
“Well, what is it?” I asked, because clearly the man had something to say.
“I put the feelers out last night, about the Razorbacks,” he replied.
“Any bites?”
“A couple—mostly nothin’ though. They’re ghosts, it seems—clean up real well after themselves too. But I did get one lead. Heard that the name—the Razorbacks—it’s code for something. Not sure what, but then I’m shit at anagrams so there’s no surprise there.” He reached over to the table and grabbed the bottle of whisky he had there before taking a swig of it. Man hadn’t even been to sleep yet, but I had no reason to doubt him.
“All right,” I finally said once he’d quit filling me in. My brain was turning around the different outcomes of it all, and none of them looked good at the moment. One thing was for certain: things were about to go south. Way south. “This stays between you and I,” I said.
Beefcake nodded. “Not a problem. You gonna need our help?”
“Probably,” I replied.
“I’m gonna want compensating for that. Hospitality is one thing, but war is a whole different game.”
I nodded, already knowing that had been coming. “All right. Keep your cell on, and I’ll be in touch. The Highwaymen have the club’s back when you need us, as long as you have ours, but that goes without saying.”
