22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Areyou and your boys a bunch of ignorant, inbred assholes?” Detective Gough barged into the officers’ area of the Devil’s Dominion clubhouse. “I mean, I’ve busted some dumbass criminals before, but you and your boys take the fucking cake.”
Headbanger leaned back in his chair and leveled his death-glare at her. “Either you were dropped on your head repeatedly as a child, or you’ve lost your bitch mind.”
“Is that right?” She pinned him with her own pissed-off stare. “Well, I haven’t lost my bitch mind enough to let a fucking undercover federal agent join my outlaw motorcycle club and not even fucking know it.”
Headbanger’s face turned beet red. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me. Shit rolls downhill, you know? After all your fuck-ups with a simple snatch and grab of a couple of actresses, I really shouldn’t be surprised. But you’ve effectively fucked us both. Your boys grabbed Elle Sinclair and her makeup artist in front of Jax Hart. Jax went to the media with it. Do you have any clue how much pressure gets put on us to quickly solve anything to do with our stars?
“The governor called the mayor. The mayor called the DA. The DA called the chief of police. The chief chewed my ass up one side and down the other. Somewhere in the chain of command, they demanded to let the FBI take over, but the DEA confirmed there’s already an undercover agent in your club. So they have jurisdiction to protect their asset.
“How the fuck can you not tell one of your men is a federal agent? That’s why you and your boys are stupid, inbred assholes. That undercover agent has already made me, I can guarantee that. He just hasn’t been debriefed to rat me out yet.”
“Get the fuck out of here. You ever come at me with one ounce of disrespect again, I’ll put a bullet between your fucking eyes and feed your goddamn body to the sharks.” He stood and rounded his desk, charging toward her like an out-of-control bull. When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her with one hand, opened the door with the other hand, and shoved her outside. Before she could speak, he slammed the door shut in her face.
“Bone,” he bellowed. “Get in here.”
Within seconds, his sergeant at arms stood in his office awaiting orders. “Yes, sir?”
“Take Nutcrusher, and you two put a bullet in Gough’s, Doorman’s, and Renegade’s skulls. Then rip the patches and rockers off their vests and bring them back to me, soaked in their blood.”
Shock crossed Bone’s face before he nodded. “Renegade? He betrayed us?”
“That fucking detective just said we have an undercover agent in our club. Doorman is the first man I suspected. The way he got up and fought back after his initiation should’ve tipped me off, but I ignored it. If he’s an agent, Renegade must be too. Either way, he endorsed a fed, and he has to go.”
“I fucking knew it. Renegade was behind my brother getting busted at that bar, I’m sure of it. I’ll gladly take care of them both.”
Bone went into the armory and took four Glock 9mm pistols and extra clips, two for him and two for Nutcrusher. One bullet to each of their skulls wouldn’t be enough. He walked through the clubhouse, calling for his friend, when a door opened suddenly and a half-dressed Nutcrusher rushed out.
“What? Where’s the fucking fire?” He buttoned his pants and pulled up the zipper. The girl he was with sat up on the bed, wide-eyed while she watched him.
“We have orders.” Bone handed him two of the handguns, effectively conveying the rest of the message.
“Who?” Nutcrusher asked, tucking the guns into the back of his pants.
“Renegade and the fucking Doorman. But first, Gough.”
“What? Why?”
“They’re undercover feds, and that bitch detective rubbed the prez the wrong way.”
The two men left in the truck, heading toward the detective’s apartment. Bone couldn’t help but hear what Headbanger threatened Gough with—and he knew his boss didn’t make idle threats. She’d die exactly as he’d described, and when she saw them approaching, she’d know exactly why.
Nutcrusher knocked on her door while Bone flattened his back against the wall and waited. The peephole darkened as she peeked through it, but Nutcrusher left his expression neutral. He sensed her hesitancy and considered kicking the door in just before the deadbolt turned.
“What do you want?” Her bravado was fake, but he had to give her credit for trying.
Bone swung around, his gun drawn, and ordered her out of the apartment. Her eyes cut to the side, and Nutcrusher knew she planned to run. He grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. She lost her balance and fell against his chest. With a gun pressed into her spine, they walked her to the truck and forced her into the cab between them.
“What’s going on? Where are you taking me?”
“Detective Gough, we thought you were smart,” Bone taunted.
“You fucked up royally, sweetheart,” Nutcrusher added, knowing she hated that endearment. “Not only did you threaten the prez, you disrespected him and failed to identify a fed in our midst before he’d gained too much intel on us. You’re supposed to be our police protection. You suck at your job.”
