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“Nope. Just don’t like you.”
I really hated this motherfucker. There was something about him that was setting off all my alarm bells. The fucker was dirty. I felt it more than I knew it and he was looking for anything to pin on me. Why, I didn’t know.
Throwing my cigarette down, I got in the fucker’s face. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve had a dick up your ass since the second you saw me. If you are going to arrest me, then do it. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Porter growled. “I fucking hate men like you. You think you can do whatever the hell you want and there won’t be repercussions. Got news, asshole. There will always be someone like me ready to check your ass.”
“Then come on. Do your worst.”
“Porter, step back,” Cross said firmly, trying to pry the fucknut away from me.
The fucker wouldn’t move.
Instead, he got nose to nose with me. “I fucking hate your kind.”
Smirking, I asked, “And what kind is that asshole?”
“Thugs. Low life degenerates that shit on good people. People like you give decent folks a bad name. You all need to be in jail. I’m going to make sure I leave no stone unturned and if I find even a fucking parking ticket in your name, I’m going to haul your ass into the station. Got me, you piece of shit.”
I taunted, “Give it your best shot.”
Porter reached for my shirt when I heard pipes.
Lots of fucking pipes.
Looking towards the clubhouse, I saw several bikes, at least twenty of them, pulled into the compound along with a black SUV.
My family had arrived.
Grinning, I sneered as Porter and Cross took several steps back.
“Not so big now, are you, asshole?”
“Fuck you,” Porter growled.
My brother Montana rolled his bike right over to the garage along with four other Soulless Sinners. Taking off his helmet, Montana leaned against his handlebars and shook his head. “What part of stay out of trouble didn’t you understand, little brother?”
“Wasn’t me,” I retorted, smirking. “I was minding my own business when these two FEDs showed up and started telling me how men like us are scum and need to be in jail. Apparently, we’re a blight on society.”
“Really?” Montana chuckled, as Mercy, Malice and Vicious removed their helmets. I had heard rumors that Vicious left the Golden Skulls. Guess the rumors were true.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Porter stated, hand resting on his weapon.
Montana grinned, shaking his head as he reached into his cut for a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, my brother looked right at the FED and said, “Got one anyway.”
“What the hell is going on!?”
“Shit,” I muttered. Montana grinned, as the others chuckled as my mother, Virginia Stone, walked towards us, pissed off. “What part of you are not to question my client without his attorney present didn’t you understand? As I am his attorney and I just arrived, you two gentlemen have some explaining to do.”
“Ma’am,” Cross began quickly.
“Not ma’am. My name is Virginia Stone. You can call me Mrs. Stone.”
Cross gulped. Yeah. He knew who my mom was. “Mrs. Stone, I’m Agent Cross. We weren’t questioning your son. We came by to…”
My mother grinned. “I’d be very careful as to what you say next, Agent Cross, because it sounds like you were about to say you came by to ask my client a question. If that’s the case, then whatever you learned would be inadmissible in court and I would have to file a grievance with your department.”
“We know your client didn’t kill Mr. Taylor and his son Benjamin. We came by to see if Kansas could explain why someone wrote his name on the wall?”
