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Spider, the owner, was sitting at the bar. Dressed in a plaid suit, he rose from his seat when he saw me and indicated for me to follow him. I knew the way to his office and headed for it, passing a patron indiscreetly jerking off in the shadows to a girl humping the stage in front of him.
“You okay with that?” I asked as I reached the doorway to his office.
Spider glanced over at the man ferociously jerking at his cock.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He whipped out his phone from his pocket and punched in a number. “Goddamnit, Bruno, do your fucking job. We got a fucker whacking off near stage three. Stop fucking around and throw him out. And tell the bastard that it’s his one and only warning. Next time, he’s out for good. Now get your fat ass over there before he blows his load all over my velour couch.”
He thrust his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that. Not sure what’s in the water, but that’s the fourth guy we’ve caught with his hands dancing in his pants this week. Fucking degenerates.” He gestured for me to step into his office. “Come in.”
He closed the door behind me.
“So what is so important it couldn’t wait?” I asked, deliberately not taking a seat. Spider was unsavory at the best of times. He was a good informant. But I could only imagine what went on in this office.
His sweaty brow furrowed. “A reliable source tells me Gimmel Martel has put a hit out on you.”
I remained unfazed. Poker-faced. Calm. My body language relaxed. But hearing that you had a hit out on you didn’t tickle the funny bone. No matter who you were. It meant things would have to immediately change. My life would have to change. Certain precautions were needed, not just for me, but for those I loved.
Including the one in my bed.
“You a hundred percent certain this information is reliable?” I asked.
Spider nodded. “It came from two people, Bull. People I trust.”
I nodded. The hit on me was to be expected.
Although, why pay for a hit when he could send one of his thugs to do the job?
I could only assume Martel planned to rise from his exile and didn’t want to be associated with my murder. The Kings of Mayhem were heavily connected. If he wanted to rise like a phoenix and rebuild his empire, then it was best not to burn any more bridges.
“Has anyone accepted the job?”
Spider nodded. “Apparently.”
“Any idea who?”
“No, idea. None of the favorites. They wouldn’t touch this hit with a hazmat suit. They know the consequences.”
“But someone has definitely accepted?”
“According to my sources. But I can’t confirm who accepted it. I’ll keep digging around.”
I nodded and clasped my hand on his shoulder. “If you hear anything else, let me know.”
“Will do.”
Outside, the bad weather had cleared, and bright sunlight stabbed my eyes. I slid on my glasses and climbed onto my bike. I didn’t want to go back to the clubhouse and call chapel. I thought about Taylor and a warm glow filled my chest. I wanted to see her. Wanted to look at her and know that the beautiful smile on her face was for me.
But things had changed since I’d left her this morning.
I had a contract on my life now and I couldn’t risk her or Noah getting caught up in this.
Every part of me screamed to stay away, and it was a warning I knew I should heed.
The best thing I could do for her was to walk away.
I wasn’t good for her.
Not now.
But how could I walk away knowing what I would be leaving behind?
The idea of a world without Taylor suddenly seemed cold and miserable.
No, giving her up wasn’t an option.
It wasn’t an option at all.
I called chapel, and within the hour, I had brought the Kings up to speed. Except Ruger. I told him to take time off to look after his wife and kid.
“Fuck!” Yale pounded his big fist onto the wooden table.
A dark, unease rippled through the room.
“We can step up security,” Chance said.
“And reach out to the other chapters, see what they can find out,” Cade added.
“Or we can just put a bullet in Martel’s goddamn head,” Matlock said.
“Won’t stop the hit from playing out,” Joker said grimly.
Putting a bullet in Martel was more than appealing. And it was definitely something I was going to make happen. But Joker was right. It wouldn’t put me in the clear. Once a hit was in play, it was almost impossible to stop. Even if the person paying for it was dead and buried.
“I’m not convinced Spider is right,” I said. “A hired gun isn’t Martel’s style. He has his own men for it.”
“But we can’t take that for granted,” Chance replied.
