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One of the girls let out a whimper, and the three of them scrambled to grab their things and bolt out the door. I stepped back when none of the Skulls boys did anything to stop them, and I let them pass me as Diesel walked in, and the rest of us fell in a defensive position beside him. We all held our guns, but only I had mine up and trained on the president.
Diesel towered over their president by nearly a foot. Without even trying, he was an imposing figure in the small room, his anger only amplified it.
“I’m Boomer,” the man said, and although he was shorter and fatter than Diesel, he looked our prez straight in the eyes without expression. “You’re Diesel.”
“So you know who I am, that answers my first question.” Diesel considered the man for a moment, before shoving his gun away stepping forward. “My next question is why the fuck did you shoot up my clubhouse?”
Boomer stepped back, but Diesel lunged forward and grabbed him by his cut, easily lifting him off his feet.
“Oh. That.” Boomer looked calm, even with his toes barely scraping the ground. “Look, it wasn’t personal.”
Diesel slammed him in the jaw with a powerful hook, and the older man fell to the ground, but I could see that nothing was hurt, other than perhaps his pride.
One of Boomer’s men took a step forward, as if I would let him lay one fucking finger on my prez, my brother.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I turned my gun to aim at the dumbass who dared walk towards Diesel.
“Back off, Rascal,” Boomer sighed, as he stood. “We’re good.” He looked at Diesel. “Right?”
“For now,” Diesel said. “Let’s start with some answers and see where that gets us.”
“Answers, yeah. Okay.” Boomer smoothed down the flaps on his vest. “Like I said, it was nothing personal. We got no beef with the Steel Demons. In fact, I respect what you got going on down here. We’re just guns for hire on this one. Nothing more.”
“If we wanted you dead,” Rascal, a weedy looking thing who looked like a coked-out rat, said with a crooked smile, “then you and your bitches would be dead.”
“Rascal,” Boomer snapped. “I said back down.”
“Who hired you to shoot up my clubhouse?” Diesel asked.
“Don’t know. But—” Boomer raised both his hands at Diesel’s growl of warning. “Consider this, we stayed right here on your turf, instead of scampering away. Don’t you want to know why?”
“Well damn, Boomer, consider us interested,” Maverick said, when a short silence followed his statement as Diesel only glared.
“You guys got a good thing going here,” Boomer said. “You’re strong, and we don’t want to start a war. Someone dropped ten grand on our doorstep with a message to spook you. That’s just what we did. But we hung around after, because I personally don’t wanna start shit with Steel Demons. So we didn’t hit nobody at your joint, and here I am waiting for you, in case you were looking to chat.”
“Bullshit,” Maverick said, but Diesel raised a hand, and he quieted.
“That’s it?” Diesel said. “You risked us killing you on the spot for ten grand?”
“Well, that and they sent us some, uh, photos of the compromising nature, feel me?”
My gaze landed on Diesel, asking him silently what our next move was.
“Our tech guy said the pictures were routed through a VIP or some shit,” Boomer motioned to one of his men, who handed a phone to him.
“VPN,” I corrected.
Boomer shrugged as if he didn’t give a fuck about the details as he tossed the phone to Diesel. “That’s the burner he sent. I’m supposed to toss it when we head outta town.”
“Thanks.” Diesel nodded and whipped out his phone, to text Slate I was sure, telling him to get his ass down to the motel ASAP. “You advertise that you do this kinda shit?”
Boomer shook his head. “Fuck no. Somehow, they knew.”
Diesel dropped the phone in his pocket and grabbed Boomer’s t-shirt again, this time letting his feet remain planted on the floor. “Shoot up my fucking clubhouse again and I’ll put a bullet up your asshole. Got it?”
Boomer grinned. “Kinky.”
So of course, Diesel was obliged to square him right in the jaw again.
