Page 76 of Property of Rattler

Painfully, I swing my legs over the bed. It hurts to put weight on my ankles, the right now just as bad as the left, and when I stand, my knees threaten to buckle.

“Here.” Prez nods to someone behind him, and Short appears, taking the crutches from him, and bringing them to me.As Short passes them over, Prez states, “Only giving you these as Bron said your legs are bruised and not broken. “

He waits until I’ve got them under me, and Short, being a fucking giant and the last person to use them, makes the adjustments so they fit someone of my height.

“Where do you need me?” I repeat.

“In my bedroom,” Bullseye answers.

Quick as a flash, I tell him, “Even if I swung that way, I can’t guarantee my dick’s working.”

“And here I was worried that bump on your head might have affected you,” he drawls. “But no, you’re the same old Rat.”

With Short’s help, I get the crutches under me. While working them with one arm isn’t easy, my left shoulder, now back in its right place, can still cope enough that I’m able to reach out and pat his cheek as I pass. “But you love me. Otherwise, you’d have let me get blown up.”

“I may be regretting that,” he admits. But his mouth quirks.

He and Short step back as I do a sort of shuffle with most of my weight on the crutches. I notice they both hover close by in case I lose my balance and need help. I reach Bullseye’s room, just two doors along from Freak’s. I’ve already a sneaking suspicion why he wants me here. His has a window that’s situated right above the clubhouse door. And as I enter, I’m proved right. A rifle and bipod have already been set up.

“You’ll be okay up here?” Prez moves forward and cracks the window open.

“I’ll be good.” After examining the set up for a moment, I turn back around. “Our guests have anything to tell you?”

“I’ll go back down, and get into position,” Short tells us, and goes, leaving me and Prez alone.

Taking a step back, Prez pulls up a chair for me to sit on, then when I’ve situated myself, he takes the crutches from me, puts them aside, then he sits on the bed. “Freak had to pull out all thestops to get them to crack. What’s left ain’t pretty. But they sung, at last. Even got the leader to make a call to Stone to confirm everything went down at the clubhouse as planned.” He gives a twisted grin. “He thinks they’ve got Ames, and the otheruselessold lady they found here.”

I snort. “I bet Pippa loved that.”

“You think I’ve got the balls to tell her?” He chuckles, “I’ll leave that to Saint.” He sobers. “He also confirmed he’d got rid of the prospects and the two members they left. And then took out Saint and his crew when the VP returned from his wild goose chase.” He grins. “To make it believable, we got him to add that there were a couple of casualties on their side as well.”

I grin. “Stone’s going to just walk in thinking he’s won.” I pause, then ask, “They tell you anything else?”

Bullseye raises his chin, then informs me, “Just who they were. They were hired muscle of the Russians who run an underground gambling ring in Phoenix, the kind where only high rollers need apply. Stone had a winning streak, got hooked, then got taken to the cleaners. He owes them big, as we already know.”

“Taking them out going to come back on us?”

“Nah, shouldn’t. They weren’t Bratva, they were street thugs in it for money. But just in case, I’ve got Pippa setting up a life insurance policy for him, one that’s predated. If needed, the payout will be enough to cover his debt. The recipient, his sister. All she’ll need to do is clear it, then she’ll have the money to pay the Bratva back. There’s no reason for them to want to hurt us.”

I’m not stupid. And I’ve been set up here for a reason. “A bullet through the head won’t look like an accident.”

“Yeah, and we don’t want the cops investigating how he died to prove a claim. So, your job is to shoot anyone that comes with him but leave us to take Stone down.” His lips fractionally curve.“I see a car accident in his future.” He smirks. “One involving a fireball to hide any damage inflicted during our interrogation.”

While I’m up for him being hurt, I kinda resent that I can’t be the one who frees Ames forever with a quick bullet to his head, but Bullseye’s plan will work. It will protect the club, and that ingenious insurance policy will take any heat away from her. He stands, peers out of the window as if checking my line of sight, then places his hand on my shoulder. “From what Ames’ said, you two have got pretty close.”

A wisecrack is on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to give him the truth. Swallowing hard, I admit, “Yeah, we have.”

“This marriage thing going to be real? Am I going to be ordering an old lady’s property of patch?”

Again, I’m honest with him. “In the cabin, we started off hating each other.” I reconsider. “Well, I hated and resented her. Hated I was trapped. But slowly, I came to see she was different to what I’d built up in my mind.” I shake my head, “It wasn’t just her, haven’t ever had much time for bitches.”

“We’ve noticed,” he inputs drily.

“She surprised me. I tested her, she passed every fuckin’ time. She took my shit and gave it right back. She intrigued me, and I grew to like her. For the first time ever, I felt I had a soul mate. We clicked, you know?” His shrug shows he doesn’t quite understand. But then Bullseye’s never been close to a woman himself. Or, not in the time that I’ve known him. He’s a bit like me with the club girls, though admittedly, less of an asshole. I finish what I was saying, “We became friends.”

He gives a one-sided smug smile. “Friends with benefits?”

“No, not that,” I retort sharply. “We never…” My voice trails off. We hadn’t, but if we’d had more time, I’m certain we would have. We skirted quite close to the edge.