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I usually avoided Tiffani. If she wasn’t so popular with some of my brothers, I’d have her gone from the clubhouse permanently.
She was a troublemaker.
And she could turn crazy on and off like a goddamn faucet.
When she looked back at me, her demeanor changed dramatically and she smiled sweetly. “But let’s not waste time talking about some bar girl.”
“You bought her up,” I reminded her.
She scoffed, but waved it off and batted her long lashes. Looking coy, she licked her already glossy lips and curved one bare shoulder toward me. “When are you going to put me out of my misery, Bull? What does a girl need to do to get your attention?” She ran a long nail along my forearm. “No need for you to sit here looking so lonely. Let’s go to your room where I can make you feel real good.”
I pulled my arm away. “It’s not going to happen, Tiffani.”
She pouted at the rejection. But didn’t take the hint. Instead, she upped her efforts. She leaned in closer. “You’ve got my panties soaked right through.” She let out a little whimper. Her eyes hooded. Her teeth biting into her lip. “Give me half an hour with that beautiful cock of yours, and I promise, you won’t regret it.”
How she knew I had a beautiful cock was beyond me. I had never, and never would, touch Tiffani.
I was just about to tell her to leave me alone, when my attention was dragged away by some random cheering across the room. As I looked up, I noticed Sheriff Buckman walking into the clubhouse. Normally, when the cops arrive at a clubhouse, they’re not walking in, they’re storming in. But things were different here in Destiny. We had a good relationship with the sheriff, thanks to a long-standing agreement between him and the last three presidents, as well as a nice fat retainer at the end of each month.
So, seeing him walk into the chaos of a biker homecoming celebration was hardly a concern, and no one really paid him much mind. Except a couple of club girls who made a flirtatious show of saying hello to him. He awkwardly untangled himself from them and made his way over to me.
Tiffani took one look and screwed up her face. She didn’t like Bucky. Not since he’d arrested her for being drunk and disorderly at a roadhouse on the interstate toward Humphrey. She stood up and snatched her purse from the table. Out of courtesy, he lifted his hat and gave her a polite nod. But she was still furious at him. She scowled and brushed past him without a word before making her way over to the pool tables.
“You got a minute?” he asked me.
“All the time in the world, Bucky.”
I nodded when he gestured to sit down.
“I want to talk to you about that incident out near the railroad tracks on the edge of town,” he said, placing his hat on the table in front of him.
“Incident?”
“Yeah, someone called the sheriff’s office to report a body.”
“They did?”
I was playing dumb, and Bucky knew it.
“Yeah. Found it in a ditch with a bullet in his chest and some burns that the medical examiner said was done with a blowtorch.”
I let out a whistle. “Brutal. Anyone we know?”
“A real sleaze bucket called Scud Boney. You know him?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Yeah, well, he had his slimy fingers into a lot of terrible shit. Some of the Polaroids we found back at his motel room made one of our forensic guys puke his breakfast all over the goddamn parking lot.”
“Sounds like someone did the world a favor.”
“I guess they did.” Bucky’s knowing eyes shone across at me. “I just hope that someone got rid of the gun they used so it can’t be traced.”
“I reckon whoever did what you said they did probably took care of it already. The Mississippi is a damn big river.”
Bucky nodded, absentmindedly curling the brim of his hat with his hands as he thought for a moment.
“You know, if this someone had called my department before they took the law into their own hands, we could’ve taken care of it, and they wouldn’t be looking down the barrel of a murder charge if they are caught.”
I looked unaffected at the suggestion. “Maybe that someone thought that the world was a better place without him. Sounds to me like he is better off rotting in hell than in some jail cell.”
“Yeah, well, hopefully next time I’ll get a chance to do my job.”
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Bucky,” I said. “The bad guys are like weeds. One dies and another one sprouts up to take his place. I’m sure if you dig further into Scud Boney, you’ll find plenty of other sleaze buckets to collar.”
He didn’t look convinced, but nodded as he rose to his feet. “I take it there won’t be any more Scud Boneys floating to the surface anytime soon.”
