Page 34 of Not Mine to Rescue

“He’s thinking about it,” Kid joked.

“I’d rather lick the floor of the shared bathroom upstairs than go through that. Holy hell.” I meant that, too. Thank god these two set me straight. What the hell was I thinking trading numbers with Winter?

“Heard you broke her dealer’s hand.”

That was on Snake. I couldn’t exactly disobey an officer’s order, could I? “He touched my vest.”

Kid slapped the bar’s surface. “Hell yeah. New rule.”

“Don’t jizz on my wife’s floor,” Walt warned. “You know better than that.” He turned on me, “And you…”

“What?!”

“Good work. It was a clean break. Snake said it snapped like a dry stick.”

All of Lemon’s anatomy books I read were worth it for the praise.

“Let’s hope he stays mute about it. Bat’s on probation.”

I nearly groaned. A twisted combo of two memories took that opportunity to surface at the same time. The first was the way Honoria arched with her tits in the air as her whole body shook from orgasm. The second was her firing a question at me. Are you on probation?

The irony of thinking about her while Walt and Kid discussed Winter and her douchebag dealer wasn’t lost on me.

“Bat, since you have the girl’s number, find out what her boyfriend is doing.”

I stared at Walt. “Is that an order?”

“Do I have to make it one?”

Christ. “No.” I valued my place here. Walt took care of his club. He wasn’t the type of president who shirked the work and hoarded the profits. Everyone was rewarded here. He made certain we all stayed on his payroll of one of his businesses so we had insurance. The retainer on the law firm he hired wasn’t cheap. This barn was technically owned by his wife. She’d scored it at an auction from a couple who’d tried to turn it into a wedding venue. The club paid her rent and did renovations, bringing it closer to that vision, but in a biker hangout way.

There was even a motocross course that zigzagged through the woods surrounding the barn. As a member, I got to test it any time I wanted.

But mostly, I wasn’t scrabbling anymore. The animal rescue was a pipe dream. It barely paid the taxes on the farm. And it would never offer the quality benefits Walt’s businesses did. And, instead of selling dirt weed for pennies on the dollar, I was benefitting from the club’s primo investments.

What’s a little light spying on a chick I’d had a one-nighter with compared to all that?

Oblivious to my thoughts, Walt nodded once. “Good. He’s pretty active with the college set. Nickel says he turns a steady supply of X. You might want to find out if he’s moving anything else. We can use that info. Snake’s getting a little too old to blend in, and Nickel, well, he’s out of the game. Do you think your girlfriend knows?”

“She isn’t my girlfriend.”

“She will be.” He grinned. His eyes held a manic glow.

Would I get my ass beat for killing him or would I just end up dead?

“Don’t look at me like that. You already hit it.”

“Maybe she wasn’t good.”

Kid was not helping.

Then again, these assholes might understand my reluctance better if I told the truth.

“A dead salmon would fuck better.”

“Ho!” Walt doubled over in laughter.

Kid had the decency to only smirk. He’d been a bigger man whore than I’d ever been. He had a few of those unfortunate encounters in his heyday.