Chapter Eight
Dragon
W e’re outsiders. That’s blatantly obvious in the way everyone glares at us as we make our way inside the bar, Empty Moon. Because Wex got himself killed, we don’t have the access to wherever it is Max Corsetti might be hiding out at. But even though Koyn bitched my ass out on the phone earlier after my shower, I don’t regret it.
The fucker had it coming.
Four stools along the bar vacate as we approach. I’m not keen on leaving my back to these people, but I need a damn drink. I hop onto the first one and Katana slides in beside me. Nees and Cove sit on his other side. Nees, the big mouth of our group, flashes his fake ID and orders a round for the four of us. The bartender doesn’t seem perturbed that Nees and Cove look like a couple of kids as he pours out some shots of tequila. I slam mine back, relishing the burn in my throat, before shoving the glass back toward the bartender for more. I’ve downed three before I begin to loosen up.
We’ll figure out where that little Corsetti rat’s hiding out and then we’ll catch him. He’s lucky it’s us he’s going to encounter rather than Loki. Loki’s crazy ass makes me seem sane.
Cove laughs at something Nees says, drawing my attention his way. His cheeks have been perpetually stained pink since our encounter in the motel bathroom. The animosity that’s normally thrown my way seems to have calmed.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Katana says, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
“Hmm?”
“You. Actually being normal.”
I cut my eyes to his dark, amused ones. “Fuck off.”
“I’m just saying, you’re different with BP.”
Fidgeting at his words, I knock back another shot before shrugging. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Katana smirks at me. “Denial is new too.”
“I’m not in denial.”
“You want to fuck him.” He leans in, a taunting grin on his face. “And from where I sit, I’d say he’d be into it too.”
Gritting my teeth, I try not to think about ripping Cove’s clothes from his body and sinking into his tight ass. I bet he’d make more of those breathy sounds and try to rip my hair out as he comes like a wild man. My dick is achingly hard in my jeans at the fantasy.
“No one cares, you know,” Katana continues like he’s a teenage gossip queen.
“If I fuck the kid?”
“If you fuck anyone, yeah, specifically the kid. Just because he’s a guy, no one is going to give a shit.”
My gaze once again finds Cove. His eyes dart away, the pink of his cheeks darkening. With his crooked smile and soft blond hair, he’s an angelic temptation this devil can’t ignore. If Koyn knew I was here obsessing over his prospect rather than stalking out our mark, he’d whip my ass.
“I’m gonna take a piss,” I tell Katana, sliding off the stool. “If I’m not back in five, come looking for me.”
I don’t need to tell him I’m really going to see if I can’t find out where the rat is hiding or the fact I want him to keep an eye on Cove. Katana is like my brother. He knows. He just knows.
As I make my way toward the back of the bar, I try not to think about my real brothers— Chase’s brothers. Kai is twenty-five now, a junior advertising exec at a firm in downtown Memphis. Benjamin just turned twenty-one and his social media is nothing but party pictures. I’m sure Mom and Dad love that. It’s the baby of our family that has my chest squeezing. He turns eighteen this year and is playing varsity basketball at his school, the same school I went to. Seeing pictures of Mitch, a spitting image of myself, is too hard sometimes. He’s everything I was and never was able to be.
Because of Night Giant and his sick fucking operation.
My blood is boiling by the time I reach the hallway to the bathrooms. I bypass them and head for one of the back rooms a bartender is stepping out of. He’s looking down at his phone, so he doesn’t see me coming before it’s too late. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I slam him up against the wall and put my face inches from his.
“Where’s Corsetti?”
His eyes are wide and he sputters. “Who?”
“Don’t fuck with me,” I growl, yanking out my knife and pressing it against his ribs. “I will gut you and not think twice.”
“Dude,” he chokes out, “I don’t know a Corsetti. What’s he look like?”
“Tall. Lanky as fuck Italian asshole.”
“Max?”
“That’s him. Where the hell is he?”
“I don’t know, man. I saw him earlier, but he left with Gutter Trash.”
“Gutter Trash a biker?”
“Prez of the Route 44 Falcons.”
“Where’s their clubhouse?”
“Up the road about a mile or two but—”
“You’re gonna show me. Let’s go.” I dig the knife into his side and drag him toward the door at the end of the hallway.
“They won’t let us in,” he argues. “They’re crazy as shit and super fucking paranoid.”
“Figure out a way.” I push through the door and give him a shove. “Either that or you’ll be my bait.”
He takes off running, the little pussy, and puts his phone to his ear. I hear him call out Gutter Trash’s name and then tattle that a guy with a dragon on his neck is looking for Max. With a heavy, annoyed sigh, I throw my knife. It spins through the air and makes impact in my target’s back. He lets out a surprised howl and his phone clutters to the asphalt. Slowly, I make my way over to him.
I stomp on his phone, crushing it. He tries to crawl away, but when I press my boot into the butt of the knife, he screams out in pain.
“You fucked up,” I growl. “Was Max Corsetti worth it?”
He moans in agony, shuddering when I press my boot down, making the blade push in deeper. “I’m j-just a lackey. They p-pay the bills, man. I’m n-not loyal to them.”
“What’s he doing here?” I demand. “You’re in the business of human trafficking?”
His head shakes profusely. “No, f-fuck, no. He’s j-just lying low for a c-couple of weeks before he meets up with his b-business associate out east.”
“Who?”
“Fuck if I know. Some guy named Victor.”
“Victor who?”
“I don’t know, man.”
I push down harder, not moved by his sobbing. “Think.”
“He didn’t t-tell me.”
The rumble of motorcycles can be heard in the distance, no doubt Gutter Trash and his scuzzy friends.
“Your life depends on getting me information. Figure it out, motherfucker.”
He stupidly stalls, his words stuttering out. If he thinks his biker buddies can save him, he’s wrong.
Squatting, I grab hold of the knife, twisting it just enough to make him cry out in agony. “Listen, you dumb fuck. You’re going to tell me everything you know in the next thirty seconds or I’m going to cut you open from skull to asshole.”
He gags, shaking his head. “P-Please don’t. I…”
I crack my neck, ready to make good on my promise, when the club door bangs open, the sound of metal against metal getting lost in the roar of motorcycles as several approach.
“Yo, Dragon,” Nees bellows from behind me over the noise. “We got company, dude.”
The rumbling of engines grows louder as the bikes get closer. With an agitated grunt, I yank my knife out of the useless prick’s back, swipe the blood off on his jeans, and rise to my feet.
Nees’s brow is raised as he looks past me at the guy bleeding out on the pavement. I shrug as I pass him and stalk back inside the club. Music blasts on the speakers, but I can hear shouting as I make my way back into the open area. Katana is nose to nose with some fuckface with a beer belly. Cove stands behind him, hands fisted at his sides like he’s actually going to do something.
Rushing past them, I slash at the fat fucker’s face, opening up his cheek on my way to where some big-ass bikers are entering the bar. The guy I cut roars in pain, but the sounds of Katana wailing on him with his fists shut him up real quick.
A guy with face tattoos and bigger than Koyn charges for me. He’s probably mid-forties, so I’m quicker being the younger of the two of us. I duck my head as I drive my knife in between two of his ribs. Before he can react, I’m already pulling it out and slamming it in between two more ribs. The guy stumbles, shock written all over his poorly tatted face. I shove him and am about to pounce on him when someone crashes into me.
“Fuck,” I snarl, slamming my head to the concrete floor. My knife flings out of my grip, skittering just out of reach.
“You motherfuckers will pay for coming into Falcon territory!” the crazy dude above me says. He goes to stomp on me, but I roll away, soaking my shirt in a puddle of spilled beer.
“Falcons?” I sneer at him. “Sounds like a goddamn football team.”
The guy sneers at me. “When Prez gets a hold of you and claws out your creepy-ass eyes, you’ll see exactly why we’re called the Falcons.”
Katana appears behind the guy like a shadow, the only light the brief glimmer of his blade before he drives it into the side of linebacker dude’s neck. Of course, K never misses his mark, so the second he yanks it back out, the arterial spray arcs out like a crimson rainbow. Katana darts between two guys, on a hunt for his next victim.
Another Falcon.
They’re not hard to miss among all the screams and chaos. The Falcons are the big bastards with blue leather cuts.
A guy grabs me in a headlock, and he’s massive. I struggle in his hold, a brief reminder of Night Giant sending a chill down my spine. His forearm and bicep are like a vise, crushing my throat. Blackness creeps in.
Until I see light.
Cove races after someone. I force my eyes open long enough to realize the guy he’s after meets the description of Corsetti.
Fuck.
Corsetti heads down the hallway with Cove on his heels. Just the idea of Cove alone with someone like Max Corsetti makes me explode with fury. Loki’s club wouldn’t want us hunting him down if he wasn’t the worst of the worst.
I go limp long enough for my attacker to relax an infinitesimal amount, and then I retaliate. Swinging my fist behind me, I nail him in the side of the head. It startles him enough that I’m able to wrangle out of his hold. Too easily, I turn the tables on him, climbing his back like I’m a fucking koala on a tree.
But, unlike him, when I get a hold of his head, I don’t keep it in a headlock. No, I just snap his neck. One and done.
He crashes to the floor, his body taking the impact of our fall. I climb off his corpse and take off after where I last saw Cove. The back door at the end of the hallway is standing wide-open. Charging out the door, I immediately discover where two guys are brawling.
One is my guy.
The other one is going to wish he were.
With a thunderous growl, I grab the fucker by his douchebag hairdo, jerking him to the ground. Too effortlessly, I straddle him and rain punches down on his pretty face.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
Blood bursts from his nose and his lip splits.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
“Dragon!”
Cove’s voice breaks through my furious haze. My chest heaves, but I cease my punching. I glower down at the groaning fucker I have pinned to the ground.
“Prez wants him in one piece,” Cove says, his voice soft and so fucking gentle it feels like a breeze on my skin or a feather teasing down my spine. “Dragon, we need to get him to Copper’s truck.”
Finally, I lift my chin to find Cove squatted in front of me. Blue eyes glint in the moonlight like sapphires or a shimmery surface of a lake at night. Our eyes lock. His brows are furrowed as he studies me with intense scrutiny. I take a moment to appreciate all his angelic features from the silky blond hair on his head to the pillowy pink lips that are his mouth.
“I had it handled.” His words are still a whisper, but there’s a dry, sarcastic tone to them that makes my dick twitch.
“I handled it better.”
“Fuck off, man.” His lips curl into a sardonic grin. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here and back home. This city is a shithole.”
His smile feels like a victory for a game I didn’t realize I was competing in.
Still feels pretty damn good to win, though.