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He nods. “I do. I understand.”
“Well, you made me a promise and you haven’t come through,” I reply. “So, here we are, on the verge of a world I don’t want to live in. What are we gonna about that, Willard? You took our money. You made promises. You haven’t come through for me yet.”
“I will, Hawk. I’ll get your shipments to you,” he insists. “I promise.”
A rueful chuckle passes my lips. “Another promise,” I say. “Do you know how bad you’re makin’ me look to my club, Willard? I’m the goddamn VP, boy. If my club can’t rely on the word of the VP, you know what that makes me?”
Willard shakes his head. “I don’t.”
“The soon-to-be ex-VP,” I growl. “And you don’t want to know what happens if they take my office from me because you didn’t keep your promise?”
“I’ll get your shipment released, Hawk. I swear.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“When is soon?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know—”
“You have until Friday to find a workaround to get my shipment out of quarantine.”
“Friday? That’s not possible.”
“Make it possible.”
“Hawk—”
“You’ve been paid a handsome sum of cash to do a job for us,” I cut him off. “Believe me when I say you do not want to be on the wrong side of the Kings, man. You don’t want to fuck us over because that will go real, real bad for you.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Get it done. You have until Friday,” I snap. “And if you’re even thinking about running, let me just remind you that we have eyes and ears everywhere, Mr. Senior Customs Agent. Everywhere.”
I punctuate my words with another sharp blow, driving the handle of my bat straight into his belly. Willard drops to his knees, wheezing and gasping for the breath that erupted from his mouth. He curls into a ball and starts to sob. I shake my head, disgusted with this obsequious little turd.
“Get it done,” I growl as I walk back to my bike.
And then I ride off into the night.
CHAPTERONE
The morning sun slanting in through the window wakes me up and I roll out of my bunk. My head is throbbing and my body aches. I don’t know what the fuck happened last night, but I feel like I just went a few rounds with Evander Holyfield. I shuffle into the bathroom and pull a bottle of Advil out of the cabinet and swallow three of them, then scoop some water out of the sink into my mouth to wash them down. I splash a few handfuls of water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, there are dark circles beneath them, and I haven’t thought about going near a razor in more than a week.
“You look like shit,” I mutter to my reflection.
My looks mirror how I feel, so at least I’m consistent. Shaking my head, I take a piss, then shuffle back out to my room and stop at the foot of my bed. I want nothing more than to crawl back in and sleep a few more hours, but the sight of a curvy blonde nestled under the covers changes that plan. She’s naked, out cold, and I’ve got no fucking idea who she is, but I’m definitely not feeling like cuddling if she happens to wake up.
Frankly, I like sleeping alone. I don’t like sharing my bed at all, so I usually don’t. I’m not much for spooning and sharing my feelings, or whatever happy horseshit couples do after they fuck. The chick in my bed is obviously somebody I banged last night but I can’t say who the fuck she is. She’s hot and has a great ass but I can’t even remember what her name is. Doesn’t matter. I have no idea what she’s doing here.
“Well. fuck,” I mutter.
I pull on my jeans and boots, then look around. There’s a pile of clothes in the corner but I can’t remember if it’s the clean or the needs to be washed pile. I walk over, grab a black t-shirt off the top and give it a sniff. Seems clean to me, so I put it on then throw on my cut, followed by my leather jacket. The last thing I do is slip my wallet into my back pocket, then hook the chain to the belt loop in the front.
Once I’m dressed, I walk back to the bed and give it a firm nudge with my boot.
“Hey,” I call. “Wake up.”
