Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
I laugh dryly. “I have a few surprises up my sleeve if you decide to try something. I’m not dumb enough to walk in here unprepared.”
“I call bullshit, King. None of those DC pussies are around. We’ve kept a close eye on you.”
“They’re all too busy getting their dicks wet at a party at the strip joint. I don’t need anyone to watch my back,” I spit out. I lace my words with venom like they’ve burned me by not being here. “I can watch my own back. Now how about we get on with the reason you wanted this meeting.”
“We have mutual interests, you and I,” Mongrel says.
“I doubt that,” I tell him, crossing my arms. I make slow movements so his lackies don’t get trigger happy.
“I have a million reasons why you should agree,” he says.
I blink, keeping my face stoic. I know this means that it goes beyond Mongrel and Apex’s crew wanting territory. It means there’s a man behind the curtain pulling the strings. A million dollars is serious shit.
And bad fucking news.
“You have my attention.”
Mongrel laughs. “Everyone has a price.” The others smile like they’re in on a joke I haven’t heard. These fools couldn’t play poker if their lives depended on it. They are giving their hand away without even thinking twice about it.
“I’m loyal when I get that loyalty back. That’s something that’s not happened lately, but I’m not here to listen to you insinuate shit about me when you don’t know who I am. Tell me why I’m here or I’m walking out.”
“We know a hell of a lot more than you realize,” Mongrel hints. I already know that from Streaker’s small hint, so I ignore it—for now. “If you want to get down to business, we can do that. I would like to offer you a million reasons to help the BMRRs."
I laugh like it’s the best joke I’ve heard in years. “Here I thought you were just going to offer me a cut.”
Mongrel shrugs. “We would be willing to take you on if you deliver Ford.”
“With a million dollars, I’m not sure I want to worry about another club that will just turn around and stab me in the back.” I respond, laying it on thick.
“That’s why you’re the man we contacted.”
“Spell it out. What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Deliver Ford’s body here.”
“Body?” I ask, playing dumb. “So, you want me to kill the man? The shit that will stir isn’t worth the headache for a million.”
“A million dollars sets you up good enough to get far away from here.”
“Two million would do more.”
“Are you trying to negotiate with me?” Mongrel laughs.
Chopper chooses that moment to step up to his boss. “We should just kill this asshole and go with our first plan. He’s already in place—” Mongrel elbows Chopper in the stomach so hard the man bends over coughing and gagging to the point he’s almost vomiting. His breaths are failing to reach his lungs as his face turns an ugly shade of red.
“Watch your tongue before I cut it out,” Mongrel seethes. He’s too busy berating his guy to notice my flinch. It was barely there but enough. That wasn’t something we accounted for. They’ve got another motherfucker in our club. Jesus Christ, how did this happen?
“Good help is hard to find,” I laugh, still watching Chopper struggle to compose himself. He’s even starting to look a bit green under the gills.
“You have no idea,” Mongrel complains, straightening out his shirt. “I’ll talk with my men and let them know your price.”
“You have forty-eight hours. After that, it goes up to two and a half million,” I tell him, shrugging.
“Damn,” Mongrel says. “I think I’m starting to like you.” The man smiles but it’s more of a sneer. He’s slimy. He’s the type of man where you’d be doing the world a favor if you kill him.
“Get me the money I ask for and maybe I’ll like you, but it’s doubtful.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll be at Dingo’s bar on the Virginia state line in the evening. You can find me there.”
Mongrel nods.
We all stand there staring at each other—neither making a move to leave.
“You’ll go first,” I tell them, gesturing for the door.
“No trust between us, huh?” Mongrel says.
“Trust is earned and right now I don’t have my money.”
The men walk out before me. I stay just inside of the doorway in the dark. They walk like they are ready to take a bullet to the back. No way was I going to walk out first. I pull my gun out the minute they disappear from view, walking around the corner. I stand there tensely waiting to hear their bikes.
I watch as they haul ass down the road, then slowly step out, keeping an eye on my surroundings.