Page 60

We all stare at Grind’s blank look.

“Richard Thompson? Ex-military, sells everything - black market weapons, drugs, skin…” Fox frowns.

Grind looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ve been tracking this asshole for over a month and I’ve never come across this Richard guy.”

“Told you,” Chewy sings under her breath.

“Do we really buy that this cocksucker-” Nitro kicks Mercer’s naked leg, “is moving dodgy shit with Diesel and the Quarter Mile and he’s doing this without Thompson’s input?”

We all stare at Christopher Mercer, eyes wide as Pops shoves something into the end of his dick.

“Damn,” Grind hisses, almost in time with the hissing of Chewy’s breast pump.

Mercer grits his teeth, refusing to scream or cry. Instead, choosing to mouth off. But we can see the pain written all over his face. He’s a tough bastard, but not tough enough to hide the fear he’s trying to cover with bluster.

“You have no fucking clue, do you? No clue who I move shit for. These people are so fucking powerful. I’m untouchable.” He grins.

“He’s bluffing,” Willa murmurs.

“Yup.”

“So, Thompson uses your trucks?” Fox presses, still trying to tie Thompson and Mercer together.

“All sorts of people use my trucks.”

Willa throws me a look, before stepping forward. “Like Diesel?”

Mercer stares at my woman with pure hatred. It’s a look that I want to wipe off his damned face, but I know this is Willa’s show.

“I lost over a million dollars the day you snitched,” Mercer sneers. “Do you have any idea what that deal would have opened up for me? But instead Diesel’s useless cunt sold us out. For what? So you can biker slut yourself out-”

Willa’s fist meets Mercer’s face, his head snapping to the side and a whimper leaving his lips. My woman gets right into his face, teeth clenched. “The only slut around here is you, whoring yourself out to men who don’t want to get their hands dirty.” She steps back, moving into my arms.“You done messed with the wrong people, Chrissy boy.”

“Damn right,” Grind says, stepping up with a knife in his hand. “You mind if I ask him some questions?”

“Ding ding, ding! My boobs are done. Grind, have at him. Pops make sure you acid his dick off when you’re done,” Chewy barks, grabbing Rhodie by the hand and dragging him toward the door.

“Aye aye, Captain!” Pop salutes.

Grind watches the whole thing with wide eyes before moving his gaze to Marx.

“What she said,” Marx waves between Grind and Mercer.

“OK then.”

Rider

I frown as Deacon, I mean, Grind washes off his hands in Chewy’s fancy sink. It has a cool foot pedal thing that you step on to start the faucet. No need to leave blood on the tap or anything. And it’s always warm. That’s how I know my best friend is an evil genius. No one thinks about shit like that but Chewy. And Pops.

“You gonna say something or just stand there scowling at me?” Grind says, not bothering to turn around or even look over his shoulder.

“Ain’t got nothing to say,” I grumble.

This makes him turn, just a little. He stares and it somehow annoys the hell outta me. He used to do it all the time when I was a kid.

“How’s Mom?”

“How would I know?”