“No,” I muttered. “Sounds like a headache.”
I stuffed the file back under my arm.
Remi’s voice still echoed in my head as I headed for the door.
"... in my experience, Chief, more often than not, things aren't always as they seem and not every situation calls for the same interpretation or misinterpretation of the rules."
I wondered what kind of rules were required to deal with two hot heads with fists like canons who were too much alike for their own good.
CHAPTER 13
HARLAN - SPIKE AND HAMMER
Two men. Two clubs. One parking lot. And a whole lot of testosterone.
By the time I pulled into the lot of the Old Ridge truck stop, the damage had already been done. Broken glass crunched under my boots as I stepped out of the cruiser. Oil slicks shimmered like bruises on the pavement. One Harley was on its side, another propped against the curb, leaking something that didn’t look good for the engine or the ego.
Reid had beaten me to the scene, trying his best to play traffic cone between two groups of men built like war and wearing their cuts like armour. Most of them were holding back, arms crossed, knuckles flexing. But two of them, two in particular, looked like they were one wrong word away from setting the whole place ablaze.
I recognized them immediately.
Logan Maddoxgoes bySpike. Lean muscle and tattooed, blood on his knuckles and a grin that said he was proud of it. He paced like a predator, restless, blue eyes sharp under a curtain of sweat-damp hair.
And across from him?
Cole Dawson,the president of the Iron Serpents. They called himHammer. Bigger. Broader. Older than Spike by a couple of years, but no less dangerous. If anything, Cole was the threat to watch in this situation. His stance was rooted, arms folded, jaw ticking. He wasn’t pacing. He was waiting.
Watching.
Controlling.
I crossed the lot without a word, stepping between the two beforesomeone threw the next punch. I didn’t need backup for this. Not yet. I just needed to speak their language.
“Hammer. Spike,” I said coolly. “You want to tell me what the hell just happened here?”
Spike spat blood to the side and gave me a smirk. “Just a spirited conversation, Chief.”
“Looked more like a demolition derby,” I replied.
Cole said nothing. Just watched me. Then nodded toward the gas station entrance, where one of his men was holding a cloth to another’s busted nose.
“He came at one of my prospects,” Cole said. “Words were exchanged. Got a little loud.”
“A little?” I swept a hand toward the broken signage and the trail of smeared boot prints. “You two caused enough damage to shut this place down for a week.”
Spike shrugged. “Tell your rookie not to call it in next time. I had it handled.”
“Handled?” I turned to him. “You were three seconds from drawing. I saw your hand on the piece, Maddox.”
“Didn’t pull it.”
I stared at the asshole who was grinning like the Cheshire cat, “Not the win you think it is.”
Cole finally spoke again, voice low but deliberate. “We were both there to talk to a guy who owes money. Things got heated. My crew pulled back. He didn’t.”
Spike scoffed. “You call pushing my guy through a window ‘pulling back’?”
“I call it ending the argument before you started another war.”
