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This cannot be good.
I think about asking Itch or Roadkill to tag along, but Legacy didn’t say that’s what he wanted to happen, and it’s clear he has an idea of what he wants. If I fuck with his idea, I’m sure he’ll be pissed. So, instead of asking anyone to join me, I slam my beer bottle down and jog toward my bike.
Fucking hell.
ChapterNine
AGONY
Pullinginto the Hell’s Souls place, I guide my bike to a spot and kill the engine. I throw my leg over the seat and make my way toward the door. It opens without me even having to knock. I’m not surprised at all. They knew who I was when I entered the gates. Plus, Legacy told them it was me who was coming, so everyone was expecting me.
Bond steps out of the door, and I watch as it closes behind him. “You want to enlighten me?” I ask. “All I got was that I’m supposed to be here as a presence, and you got Logan and whoever is in charge of the Dead Phoenix.”
Bond doesn’t say anything immediately. Slowly, his lips curve into a smile, and he clears his throat. “That’s about it,” he grunts.
“That’s it?” I ask. “You’re telling me there’s nothing else?”
He lets out a heavy sigh and takes a step backward. “Logan said he’d only talk if Reese’s man came. So, therecouldbe more.”
Fuck.
“This shit better not fuck me over,” I grind out.
Bond snorts. “No fucking clue. You know everything that I do right now. And if you get fucked over, we probably will, too.”
Against my gut and my better judgment, I follow Bond and walk into the Hell’s Souls clubhouse. It's the last fucking thing I want to do right now. This club clearly has had issues with keeping their people on a short leash or at least vetting them.
But it’s not my fucking business, and I honestly don’t give a fuck. My focus right now is on staying alive and then figuring out what the fuck I’m going to do with Reese later.
Maybe this is a good thing, though, if Logan is here. I might be able to get some more information in person than through phone calls and texts. He hasn’t been very forthcoming, and maybe he knows nothing, but maybe he knows something.
Following Bond, I stop once I’m a few feet into the bar. Logan is in the middle of the room. He’s sitting in a chair, and it’s clear that he’s tied to said chair. Flicking my gaze up, I look between the men around him.
Until I see the one who doesn’t belong, or rather, a group that doesn’t belong.
There are at least five of them.
They must have taken over the Dead Phoenix. I don’t know who they are. I’ve never dealt with them before. I don’t even recognize them, but judging by the way they are staring at me, it’s clear they think they’re really fucking something.
I just can’t tell if they are real badasses or just pretending they are for everyone else. My lips twitch into a smile, and I tilt my head to the side. I decide to stay quiet. I’m not going to involve myself if I don’t have to. I’m here for support and Reese, nothing else.
“So, this fucker,” one of the new men says as he lifts his arm and extends a finger toward me. “What do you know about the bad dope? Because we were ready to start a war when Raul was killed, and it’s got Devil’s Hellions and Hell’s Souls written all over it. Then we find out you used a different dealer, and I want to know what the fuck happened.”
Instead of popping off with some bullshit, I decide to tell him as much of the truth as I can get away with. At least enough to end this and allow me to keep my fucking head, along with everyone else’s.
“I’m not sure what exactly you think I can tell you. I wasn’t really part of transport or packaging. My job mostly consisted of tearing apart cars and putting them back together again. All something, I might add, that we do not even do anymore.”
The loudmouth takes one step forward. “You can call me Diaz,” he announces.
Personally, I don’t give a fuck what his name is. It could beChicken Fucker,and I wouldn’t even blink. He is from the underworld, and I’m trying really fucking hard to stay above ground. So, instead of shaking his hand or telling him it’s nice to meet him, I stare at him, my face expressionless.
“Don’t plan on calling you anything because this shit”—I lift my hand and whirl my finger around in a circle—“is not our shit any longer.”
“Him?” Diaz says, pointing to Logan. “What about him?”
I don’t look at Logan. I keep my focus and attention on Diaz and only Diaz. Taking half a step forward, I pause. I only have one gun, and I can’t reach for it right now. Fucking shit. It’s obvious that this fucker is here for a fight, and I am definitely not.
Fucking hell.
