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“What? Anything. I’ll answer it,” he says when I release the chain again.
“Who sent you after the cop?”
“Anything but that!” he groans.
“No answers?”
“Send me to hell,” he hisses.
“Muthafucka, who sent you?” I ask, twisting the chain harder.
He chokes, and I slowly release.
“One of his own!”
“Who?”
“Kill me.”
“Welcome to hell, elcabrón,” I hiss back.
With a quick twist of my chain, I break his neck at an unnaturally odd angle. Searching through his pockets, I find a wallet, some condoms, loose change, and his phone. I leave everything except the phone, which I stick in my back pocket.
Quickly unwrapping my chain, I loop it around my shoulder, jump over the railing and run back to the woods.
The music starts up again just as I make it back to Grenade. I’m riding back up the dirt path headed to the street when the screams reach my ears.
When I reach the street, like a ghost at night, I take off so fast on Grenade, straight pipes leaving my calling card behind. I know I’m nothing but a blur as my speed reaches a top speed of two hundred miles burning rubber and leaving fire sparks in my wake.
***
There’s an electricheat that has the city in a grip tonight. Music pours out from the clubs and bars up and down the streets, and people spill into the night having a good time. Girls in short skirts are clinging to guys and vice versa. The aroma of sex and lust hangs heavily in the air as those climbing into vehicles head to somewhere to have sex, whether it be the hotel down the street or an empty parking lot where they can hop into the backseat of their car.
As I slow to a crawl, my eyes quickly count out five Sinners in various positions. They’re not easy to spot, but I know what Fubar, our Enforcer’s instructions were, and they’re heeding them. As the Enforcer of our MC, his role is to protect every member of the Sinners and everything attached to them.
If anyone fucks up, like the Prospect outside of Ryan’s room, they’ll have hell to pay with Fubar and then answer to our VP, Artyom, and finally, our Prez, King.
After locking up Grenade, I climb off and head into my shop. Dropping down into the chair in my office, I close my eyes and prop my feet up on the desk. I’m not ready to head upstairs. Not ready to fight my attraction to her yet again.
It’s crazy, I fuck the Angels like they’re going out of style, but I haven’t touched them in over a week. I haven’t touched a woman in that long, opting to jerk off in the shower instead. Don’t even know why I’m torturing myself over a woman who doesn’t give a fuck about me.
Becca’s an easy lay, but even she’s been avoiding me. She’s smart enough not to fuck up where she lays her head, and she knows she’d have hell to pay if she crossed me.
I glance at the clock and see it’s a little after nine. Deciding to head upstairs for a shower, I lock up the office and buzz myself through my security protocols, climbing tiredly up the steps. After a shower, I plan to return to the clubhouse and eliminate some stress. I might just spend the night there.
The scent of exotic foods greets me when I open the door. Scents reminiscent of foods my Ma used to cook. Moni’s on the couch with her feet tucked beside her, and Zeus lying on her right underneath her arm as she pets him.
She’s drinking wine and watching a cooking show on the TV. Damn, she looks so at home, as though she belongs here. She’s making me feel shit that I’m unfamiliar with that makes me uncomfortable but also leaves a deep longing within me.
“Hey,” she says, glancing from the TV to me. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home, but I wanted to make sure that you had something to eat when you arrived.”
It doesn’t sound accusing or expectant, but it's almost like she’s glad I’m here.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Rather than getting the sassy tongue she usually gives me, she smiles, catching me off guard.
“I know, but...you’re always eating out or at the club. Thought I’d give you something different for a change.”
