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“What I’m about to do can wind my ass up in the clink. I can’t ask you to get involved.”
“Good thing I don’t need you to ask me.” Pushing himself off the fender, he walks to the driver’s door. “Get in. I’m driving.”
Climbing in the passenger side, I look at my best friend. “You sure?”
“Brothers don’t ride alone,” he responds, starting the SUV. He gives me a wide smile. “Besides, this shit should be fun.”
Twenty minutes later, Punk and I sit in a parking lot outside an opening to a cyclist trail. The sun paints the sky in a pinkish hue as it crests the horizon. We’ve seen a few early risers out exercising, but no one looks our way.
Punk stares out the windshield in the direction Trent should come based on his previous GPS tracking on his smart watch. “What’s the plan?”
“He fucked with my bike. Figured I’d pay it forward.”
Mercy Raven MC may be on the right side of the law, but we’ve broken a rule or a hundred when desperate times call for desperate measures. This, unfortunately, is not one of those times.
“Eye for an eye. I like it.” Punk does his signature high-pitched giggle when he’s excited. “We running him over, too?”
Disappointed, I shake my head. “I wish.”
“A little manhandling wouldn’t hurt,” Punk muses aloud, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as we wait.
“Agreed. However, we still need him for the investigation. If the firm had to appoint someone else as liaison, we may face a delay.”
My tablet beeps, altering me as Trent enters the proximity. The urge to lay the dude out flat grows strong the closer he gets. I know I said we needed Trent for the rest of the investigation, but…
“Remind me again why I shouldn’t end this fucker.”
The asshole beside me smiles as he says, “Your knees wouldn’t hold up in prison.”
A bark of laughter bursts from my lungs. I can always count on Punk to lighten my sour mood. Smiling, I slug him in the shoulder. “I would be nobody’s bitch, and you know it. Give me another reason.”
Punk sobers. “Because you got a life with Simone to look forward to.”
“Because I have Simone,” I repeat, slipping out of the SUV. I quietly close the door—can’t risk drawing attention our way.
A thick bush close to the entrance of the paved trail heading into the park makes the perfect place to hide for an ambush. I hasten my pace to my location as the cool morning breeze whips around my hair. Birds chirp their morning song as I crouch behind the thick vegetation, painting the backdrop of a serene morning.
Won’t be like that for long, at least not for Trent.
My muscles twitch with adrenaline and anticipation. This is going to feel real fucking good after all the bullshit this guy has dished out all week. I reach into my back pocket, retrieving a set of latex gloves. Leaving fingerprints behind is not an option.
Heavy breathing is my first indication someone is approaching, like extremely heavy. If the person sucks in any more air, the whole world will need to plant more trees to counterbalance all the carbon dioxide.
I glance at Punk with a raised eyebrow. He has the same incredulous look I’m sporting. Punk is trying hard not to laugh as he nods at me, letting me know it is, in fact, Trent coming our way.
For someone who exercises daily, Trent’s a loud mouthbreather. Obnoxious sounding. He probably wakes people with his groaning when he bikes past their open windows in the mornings.
Damn.My poor woman most likely endured that slippery bastard’s manic huffing while intimate. I swear a silent vow to make up for Trent’s grossness. Simone deserves only the best from me.
Shaking my head clear, I push all other thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. With my head in the game, I calculate the exact moment I need to take action.
Timing is crucial with what I’m about to do. I can’t jump out of my hiding spot too soon, or Trent will see me. And if I wait too long, I’ll be chasing after him.
Punk starts the engine of the SUV. We’ll need to scram fast before we’re caught by any passersby.
Trent’s breathing blares as he rounds the bend, passing the oversized bush I’m hiding behind. Wasting no time, I step out around the backside of the bush as soon as Trent comes into view. I reach out with both hands, grabbing hold of the backside of the bike’s frame. With all my strength, I yank my arms back, tugging the bike with me.
The sudden surge of backward momentum doesn’t stop Trent’s forward force. He flies over the handlebars into the grass off the paved trail. He lands with an audible oomph, splayed like a starfish on the ground.
