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“Watch me.” Cheryl pivoted away from him her eyes set on the front door.
Johnny’s heavy fist gripped the strap of the duffel and spun her around. “You’re not going anywhere bitch cause Nick doesn’t want you either. He might like fuckin’ you but he’s not interested in anything else.”
“Get off me.” She pushed him away, he stepped back onto a large shard of broken glass, and momentarily lost his balance. She darted to the door, released the lock, gripped the knob and yanked the door open only to have it slammed closed byJohnny’s thick palm. He spun her around and the duffle hit the floor with a thud.
Johnny kicked the bag away and glared down at her. “I told you, you’re not going anywhere, and because you’re such a cunt I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”
He pinned her to the door with his massive forearm against her chest. She struggled and tried to lift her knee but their bodies were too close.
“I’m tired of you acting like you’re better than me. You were nothing more than a business deal set up by your father to save your sorry ass.”
The first slap stung. “So, you better stop acting like an ungrateful bitch.” The backhanded swipe connected with her cheekbone and pinpoints of lights exploded behind her eyes. She twisted her body to regain leverage but it was impossible.
“And now because you pissed me off you’re gonna have to pay the price.”
Johnny had the advantage of height and weight along with a seething anger living just below the surface. A psychopath with just enough tricks to fool most people until you looked deep into his eyes and saw the monster living within.
19
The next morning Nick woke with a start then struggled to get his bearings. A constant buzzing filled his head but he couldn’t get an angle on where the fuck he ended up last night. He rubbed at his eyes and forced his brain to function. If only the damn buzzing would stop.
He surveyed his surroundings through slitted eyes. Small, barren bedroom with a chair, the bed he laid in, and a nightstand with his phone buzzing and vibrating against the scarred wood. He jabbed his finger at the phone screen and blessedly it stopped. He picked up the device and glared at it. Five a.m. Fuck.
The damn thing vibrated in his hand again and he swiped at the call.
“Rise and shine, motherfucker,” Joker’s deep rasp filtered through the phone. “Time to kick some ass.”
Slowly, very slowly, it all came back to him through a dense fog of weed and Jack Daniels. He’d sacked out in one of the bedrooms over the Gold Mine last night after it was obvious none of them were in a position to drive. Then he agreed to go with the Serpents on an early morning run out to the desert to smoke out the Desert Rats.
Nick heaved out a sigh and pushed himself to a sitting position. The sheet fell away from his naked body, and he spied his clothes from last night strewn over the chair. He struggled to a standing position, scooped up his clothes, and headed for the bathroom next to his room.
He regulated the water as hot as he could stand it, then let it beat over his head and shoulders. Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and somewhat awake. He hit the first floor and found the Serpents in the kitchen of the clubhouse already up and dressed. Some were chowing down on eggs, bacon, and waffles smothered in syrup. All of which made Nick’s stomach flip over, while others held steaming cups of coffee. That he could handle.
“Well, look who’s finally up,” Rattler razzed him from the industrial coffee machine on the counter. “What’s the matter?” He handed Nick a mug of black coffee. “Can’t keep up with the big boys?”
“Fuck you,” Nick mumbled between sips of coffee.
“To be fair,” Joker added. “Nick pounded those shots way harder than us.”
Nick raised his mug in Joker’s direction. “Thank you.”
“And I gotta give the guy credit.” Mamba flanked him. “He had one of the hottest chicks in the club shaking her tits in his face and dry humping his dick. Man, it was some fuckin’ show . . .”
Nick glared at Mamba not quite sure where he was headed, but hoping to fuck he didn’t screw some random girl right out in the open.
Mamba threw his thick muscled arm over Nick’s shoulder. “But our boy here managed to keep his dick in his pants.”
Nick heaved out a sigh and gulped at his coffee. “Fuck you, twice.”
“Are you pussies ready to go or are we gonna stand around gossiping like a bunch of little bitches?” Cobra stood in the doorway looking amazingly fresh and rested.
For that matter, all the Serpents looked sharp and on point like they’d gotten a full eight hours of sleep instead of two. Bikers were definitely a different breed, but Nick liked Joker’s theory of him having way more shots than the others.
Cobra decided they’d take the club’s Escalade since it attracted less attention than the rumbling throttle of Harley pipes. The idea was to take the Rats by surprise, not announce their arrival.
After a forty-five minute drive, Boa tapped at the keyboard of his laptop then instructed Rattler to pull off the highway onto a dirt road. The sun was just rising over the mountains casting an orangey glow over the gravely desert sand. The SUV bumped over a rocky, potholed road and stopped. Another hundred yards they spied a shack partially hidden by a cluster of boulders and tumbleweeds.
Rattler eased onto the shoulder and pulled behind some scrubby bushes tall enough to hide the vehicle. The barren, rocky land covering most of Southern Nevada still amazed Nick. Parts of it looked like it belonged in outer space.
