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“What the fuck do you think you are doing shooting out the tire of a car full of Rush Riders prospects?”
“I'm sorry, Linc, I just didn't want them following me anymore,” I explain apologetically.
“So that was your fucking solution? You could have talked to me about
it, but no, you had to go all Thelma and Louise and start shooting shit. And where the hell did you get another gun at? Goddammit, Kitten, do you know how much shit you have stirred up?” he says, his voice getting louder and louder.
“I'm sorry, I just...snapped at little.”
“A little? Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus, Kitten, that was not a little. That was catastrophic!... Where are you?” his voice demands.
“Um...finishing up a sale?” I look to Roscoe.
“Good Lord... just get your ass to the club before any of the patched-in members find you.”
“Why? What will they do?” I ask, concerned. If I’m with Linc then why would his club come after me?
“They are supposed to bring you here, but I don't trust them to do that. You can't shoot at a motorcycle club and get away with it, Kitten,” he explains, his voice frustrated. Maybe I don’t understand the idea behind brotherhood like I thought I did.
“Shit, I was not shooting at them, I just shot a tire on their car,” I protest. What a bunch of fucking crybabies.
“They don't see it that way. Listen, Billy is with the group out looking for you. He won't hurt you, but he is the only one in the group who has your back, and I doubt he’ll be able to fight all of them off you. So, the best bet is for you to get here so I can keep you safe while I calm everyone down.
“How would walking into the lion’s den keep me safe?” I ask suspiciously.
“Because, just the fact you are here in their possession and not out running loose will make them feel like they have regained some sort of control... I won't let them hurt you, Kitten. I can and will kill every one of these fuckers before I would let that happen, but I am trying to resolve this without a bloodbath.”
“This is stupid, there is no reason for anyone to get hurt or die over this. Why do you guys have to take everything so personal and to the extreme? Fuck it, if it will make them feel better, then yes, I will come there.”
“Good. Now stay off the main roads and text me when you’re close. I will make sure you get in here safely, until then I am going to go calm Flynn down.”
“Whatever,” I sigh.
“Kitten?”
Yes?”
“One of the prospects said you were hurt...Are you okay?”
“Yes, it's just a scratch.”
“Get here now, Kitten,” he says softly, his sharp tone and demeanor slipping and showing concern.
“I will,” I say more softly, hanging up.
“You shot out the tire of a car full of Rush Riders prospects?” Roscoe asks laughing, while handing my phone back to the guy behind me.
“Yes,” I mutter, putting my head down.
“Holy shit, I like you. What’s Lincoln gonna do to you?” He chuckles.
“Probably spank my ass so hard I won’t be able to sit down for a week,” I sigh.
“Good. Exactly what I would do,” he says, his laugh dying down.
“Well, lets hurry this up so you can get to him, because he is right to be concerned about the patched-in members finding you first,” Roscoe warns.
“Ms. Field, here's the deal. I have bigger things than selling marijuana going on. It's really just a nuisance to me. Having to worry about quality and dumbass employees stealing or smoking it before they sell it.” He looks over to Dingo. “It's a headache I don't need,” he continues, looking back to me now. “But I can't have you undercutting me either, makes me look bad. So here is what you’re going to do. Sell all the marijuana you want, to whoever you want, and in return you will give me fifteen percent of everything you make. This is effective today and I expect payment of this week’s sales next Monday.” So much is going on that I don’t know what to say or do.
