Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
It better be the end.
And not the beginning of something worse.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Teller
Rock turns as we approach. “Got what we need?”
“Yup.”
The corners of his mouth curl up. “Good. Look who showed up.” He steps aside. Three men lined up and facedown on the ground. I recognize the South of Satan MC patches. Farther away lay three Harleys, wheels still spinning.
“Couldn’t even let ’em dismount properly?”
“They came in hot,” Wrath says. “Shootin’ like we’re in the Wild fucking West.”
“Nice work.” I pull out my hunting knife and run my gaze over the trio at my feet. Heidi gave me the knife one Christmas. I should’ve brought a different one with me for tonight’s wetwork. “Which one of you is Thumbs?”
The guy facedown to my left kicks his foot out. “Him.”
“Shut up, you stupid fuck,” the one in the middle says.
I grab him by his belt and turn him over.
His eyes widen at the knife in my hand.
Mine widen with recognition. “Fuck.” I glance over my shoulder at Rock. “We’ve dealt with this asshole before.”
Rock moves closer and stares down at him. “Slow learner, huh?”
“Fuck you. You and your bullshit club ain’t got the right to take over Ironworks and Slater. Don’t matter what Whisper wanted. Wolf Knights are out. They don’t get a say. We coulda run that area.”
Rock does a slow, sarcastic look around. “Sure. Absolutely. You seem equipped to handle the job.”
“We should’ve killed him when we had the chance.” Guilt settles in my stomach. Carter wouldn’t have been hurt if we’d taken this punk out last time.
Wrath stares down at Thumbs. “The beating should’ve been enough for him to learn some respect.” He kicks the guy next to Thumbs. “Seems Prez, here, doesn’t have control over his crew.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
More vehicles draw closer, drowning out everything else. I recognize the Harleys and breathe a sigh of relief. Our guys are whole.
Rooster’s truck pulls up in the rear with Merlin still inside.
Dex jumps off his ride and stalks straight toward Whitey, slamming his boot into the president’s ribs.
“I take it the meeting went well?” Rock raises an eyebrow at Dex.
“We need to get Rooster to a doctor,” Dex answers without taking his eyes off Whitey.
“Why? What happened?” Jiggy shouts.
Rooster’s door creaks open and he slides out of the truck, landing heavy on the gravel. “I’m fine.”
“Fucking pussy,” Whitey mumbles.
“Yeah?” Rooster’s deadly voice rumbles as he picks up speed, boots slapping against the ground. “That right?” He cocks his gun, aims at Whitey’s thigh, and shoots. Blood explodes over the dirty denim covering the man’s leg.
Whitey screams and digs his nails into the ground, trying to drag himself away.
Wrath stops his attempted escape with a boot on Whitey’s back. “We’ll get you a Bandaid in a minute. Sit tight.”
“That’s for the knife in my side, fucker.” Rooster tucks his gun away and nods to Rock. “Sorry for the interruption. Please continue.”
Merlin ambles up behind Rooster. A smug grin twists his mouth. I hate even the appearance that my club’s aligned with him. His shitty decisions led to this entire mess. And somehow, he managed to use my club to extract himself from the problem he created.
“You find Carter?” Merlin asks, as if he actually cares.
“Yes,” I answer.
“June?”
“Yup.”
He nods and hooks his thumb in his belt. “What’re we doing?”
Rock slaps his hand against Merlin’s chest, pushing him back a few steps, where Z intercepts him with a hand between his shoulder blades.
“Give me a reason not to burn you with them,” Rock seethes.
Merlin glances down at Rock’s hand. “I’m club family?” He lifts a shoulder. “Your son’s marrying my niece.”
“Loyalty makes you family. Not blood,” Rock sneers. “Try again.”
Still wedged between our two presidents, Merlin slides the backpack off his shoulder and carefully tosses it at my feet. “I didn’t run with your boy’s money.”
Rooster’s gaze shifts from Z to Merlin to Rock, like he’s caught between having something to add to the conversation, but not wanting to stick up for Merlin.
“Spit it out, Rooster,” Z says.
“Merlin stopped this scumbag from stabbing me in the chest.” Rooster slams his boot into Whitey’s leg, right above the bullet hole.
Whitey howls. His body rocks back and forth, like he’s trying to turn himself over.
Dex is also slow to come to Merlin’s defense. “Things got chaotic. He could’ve bailed, but he stood with us.”
“Aww, so touching,” Thumbs snickers.
Murphy kicks his arm. “Shut your mouth. My brother hasn’t decided how hard you’re gonna die tonight.”
I wave the knife at Thumbs and he snaps his mouth shut.
“I’ve been trying to do the right thing,” Merlin says.
“Right thing woulda been marrying my daughter,” Whitey shouts. “Fuckin’ scumbag.”
“Or not fucking her at all,” the other guy, who I now recognize is Sticks, adds.
Merlin rubs a spot between his eyes, like the whole night is giving him a headache.
You and me both.