Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
The man in question probably heard everything she just said, but none of it was a lie. So, he could simply deal with it.
“Somethin’ wrong with bikers?” her father asked, even though he already knew her answer since this wasn’t the first time this conversation had come up.
“Yes. A lot of things. Do you want me to start listing them?”
“Lotta shit right with us, too.”
For her, the cons outweighed the pros. “Anyway, thanks for your concern with my love life and my safety. It’s unneeded when it comes to Nox.”
“Nox,” Magnum growled. “What’s the rest of his fuckin’ name?”
Shit. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt he’ll be returning any more containers.”
“But he’s in that damn group of yours, so you’ll be seein’ him again.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Liyah, want the truth. He a pig?”
“He’s a human, Dad. And you know how I feel about you calling cops that. I asked you not to do that around the boys.”
“Boys ain’t out here. And your fuckin’ answer is makin’ me think he is.”
She looked directly into his eyes and said slowly and carefully, “Whether he is or isn’t doesn’t matter. We are not dating. We’re not anything. Got it?”
Magnum grunted.
She jerked when Romeo came up and dropped his arm around her shoulders, turned his cheek toward her and tapped it. “Me next.”
Liyah grimaced and pulled away. “Not going to happen.”
“Then a hug.”
“No.”
“Why don’t you like me?”
“I like you plenty, Romeo. But I don’t want you in my business, if you get what I’m saying.”
“Bet I got a bigger dick than the white boy Mag said was here the other day.”
“I don’t care if you do.”
Romeo reached for his belt. “Lemme show you.”
She turned to Magnum. “Dad…”
“Rome, knock it the fuck off. You ain’t gonna whip out your fuckin’ dick in front of my baby girl.”
Romeo grinned. “Just tryin’ to make my case, brother.”
“She don’t need visual proof. I don’t, either. Keep your dick in your pants.”
Liyah shot Romeo a smile. “Your sergeant at arms has spoken.”
“And I outrank him.”
“Not over me, you don’t,” she reminded the DKMC president.
“Next time,” he murmured.
“No,” she said. “All right, I’m sure they’re putting a dent in all the food that’s supposed to last for the next week, so I need to go inside.”
She headed for the house and stopped on the porch. “Dad,” she called out.
He paused before starting his sled and glanced over at her.
“Thanks for taking the boys this weekend. I love you.”
He gave her a chin life, and his Harley roared to life.
She waited until both bikes disappeared down the street. Then with a shake of her head and a sigh loud enough for the neighbors to hear, she turned to go inside and hear all about her sons’ weekend.
Chapter Nineteen
“Heads up, I think the Russos caught wind of the Demons’ dick move of cutting them out.”
Nox’s head twisted to see Crew bursting through the door to the third floor of The Plant.
“What the fuck? Already?” Finn asked. “Not good.”
“Yeah. Just got a call from Fletch. He thinks the Pittsburgh Mafia has someone planted in the club.”
“Holy shit,” Torres grumbled the same as what Nox was thinking. “That could get messy.”
Decker spun his chair around. “Messy. Bloody. A whole shitload of things.”
“Let the bikers hit the floor…” Finn sang, changing the familiar song’s lyrics to fit the situation.
A chorus of groans rose since Finn thought he was an expert singer when that was the farthest from the truth. The man got an A for effort, but an F for execution.
Nox’s brow furrowed. “How the fuck is a Sicilian fitting in with that MC?” Most—if not all—of those bikers were pasty white. He was surprised that someone olive-skinned would pass the Demons’ scratch and sniff test.
“Not sure if he’s Sicilian,” Crew answered. “He could be half or none at all. They could be paying some random asshole off the street to be their eyes and ears.”
“Right. He could be some druggie they’re paying with meth,” Cabrera suggested from across the room.
“Doubt that,” Decker told her. “Meth-heads are unreliable. They’d want someone able to pay attention and report back all the little details. They’re either paying this dude in cold, hard cash or he’s one of their goons. Sicilian or not.”
“Did Fletch sneak a photo so we know which one he is?” Torres asked. “If we know what he looks like, we can scan the footage to see how long he’s been around and if he looks sketchy.”
“He texted it to me,” Crew answered. “The pic sucks and is a bit grainy since he had to do it on the down low. I’ll email it to everyone on the team, so you all have it. Torres, if anyone spots him on video, maybe snag a few still shots if they’re clear, so we have something to tack up on the board with the rest of them.”