Attraction to a Dangerous Enforcer

1. Prologue

Prologue

Reeve

"Oh, Reggie," I sing in a teasing tone, moving through the stationary cars parked haphazardly throughout the auto shop. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Milo snickers from behind me as we make our way further into the dimly lit garage.

The sound of scuffling feet reaches my ears moments before the man we're here to see, steps into the large space from a door that I know leads to his office.

The sheepish expression he's wearing means he knows exactly why we're here, and I can't contain the cunning smirk that splits across my face.

"I wasn't hiding from you boys," he says, voice quiet and lacking confidence, as he runs his shaking hands through the thin strands of hair on his head.

"Of course not. You wouldn't dare hide from us. Not when you knew someone from the club would be paying you a visit this week. Because that would be rather stupid, wouldn't it, Reggie?"

He nods immediately, watching us both intently.

"So, am I right in assuming you know why we're here?" Milo asks as he walks through the auto shop, running his fingers along the cars.

Reggie's eyes track Milo's movements.

"I-I'm not sure," he mutters in response, nervously gulping when Milo stops walking and turns his sharp cold glare toward him.

I sigh and lean against the car beside me, drawing the lanky asshole's gaze back to me.

"Do you really think lying to us is wise?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He nervously shifts in place, eyes darting back and forth between Milo and me.

I can't tell if he realizes we've subtly backed him into a corner, but knowing this dumb fuck, he has no idea. Especially since we're both still a fair distance away from him.

"I'm not lying!" he protests, flailing his long, thin arms in the air. "But if I had to guess, you're here to collect the money I owe!"

"Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!" Milo chimes.

Chuckling at my best friends antics, I shift closer to Reggie while he's momentarily distracted.

"I have it," he states, causing my laughter to fade. "I, uh, I have the money."

My dark brows raise in surprise, and I glance at Milo, who shrugs, then leans against a stack of tires.

Grimacing when I see his leather cut brushing against the rubber most probably coated in filth, I turn my curious gaze back to the thin man in front of me.

"You have the full amount?" Milo asks.

Reggie nods.

"Including the late fee?"

His eyes widen in fear, and I watch in amusement as his throat bobs.

"I wasn't told there'd be a late fee."

I roll my eyes.

Of course he wasn't told.

Everyone knows that when you make a deal with the club, and you can't pay on time, you have an extra week to gather the money, but the payment is doubled.

It's common sense.

Besides, this isn't the first time Reggie has bought guns from us.

He knows how things work.

"So, you're telling us you don't have the three thousand you owe us?" Milo asks, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

"Well—"

I shake my head and click my tongue, interrupting him.

"It's a yes or no question," I state. "Do you have the money, or not?"

His eyes roam over my face, then down to the patch on the front of my leather jacket over my heart. The one stating my position in the club.

His eyes flick back up to mine, then dart to Milo before he shakes his head.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh, I crack my knuckles, then push the sleeves of my jacket up, revealing the tattoos spread across my arms.

"All I need is a few more days! I'm just waiting for my guys to sell the rest of our product, and then I'll have enough for you."

Milo scoffs and moves closer to Reggie.

I watch in anticipation, excitement bubbling inside my stomach when the man before me cowers slightly. His eyes flick between us as he takes a step back from my best friend.

"Thing is, we already gave you extra time." Milo continues to walk toward him, backing him closer to me.

My eyes scan the floor around me, and a smile splits across my face when I spot a small trolley jack a few feet away.

"Unfortunately, you've let us down. And funnily enough, my father predicted you would. Hence why he sent us to come and collect," Milo adds.

Bending down, I twist the long metal handle, pulling it free from the car jack, then wrap my fingers around it tightly.

"You should know by now that the Steel Devils hate it when people don't follow through with their promises," I mutter, lifting the metal pole above my head and swinging it forward, lunging toward the low life dealer.

A loud, sickening crack echoes through the garage as it connects with Reggie's skull.

I pull back, then hit him again as he falls to the ground, blood splattering across the floor.

Letting go of the object, it clatters beside my feet.

Smoothing my fingers over my trimmed beard, I watch Milo step closer to me. His eyes lock onto the blood pooling from the large gash I've made in the side of Reggie's head.

"Well, isn't that a pretty picture," he muses, crouching down beside the groaning asshole.

I grimace at his comment, then swipe a hand through my tousled hair.

"You're highly disturbing."

"And you've made a mess," he retorts, shrugging as he stands up to his full height. "We were meant to keep this clean."

"What can I say, I got excited."

His eyes connect with mine, and he smirks.

Pained whimpers escape through Reggie's parted lips, and our eyes dart back down to the limp body between us.

"Clearly I didn't hit him hard enough." I sigh, then reach for the handle of the car jack again.

Milo shakes his head, halting my movements.

"If you bash his skull in anymore, you'll make more of a mess."

He reaches for the gun in his waistband, flicks the safety off, then aims it at Reggie's head before pulling the trigger.

More blood spatters over the concrete, and I step back as the pool of blood starts seeping closer.

"You think we can trust some of the prospects to clean this up?"

Milo appears to contemplate my suggestion, then nods.

"As long as either Dodger or Slate come with them so they don't fuck it up, then yeah, I don't see why not."

"I'll text them. You can load this asshole into the trunk."

He rolls his eyes.

"Always leaving the heavy lifting to me, even though I outrank you."

"Hey, I was the one who thought ahead and chose to drive the Camaro here instead of the bikes."

He makes a sound of disgust.

"Don't remind me. I have no idea how you can enjoy that shit box when you have a bike you can ride."

I shrug, pulling my phone from my pocket.

"You're forgetting I didn't grow up riding bikes like you did.

Don't get me wrong, I love my Scout just as much as my Camaro, but sometimes, the Camaro comes in handy.

Just like it did tonight," I tell him, pointedly looking at the body on the floor.

"Not only were we able to turn up here without alerting him from miles up the road, but it's also the best way to transfer a body around. "

He scoffs. "I could easily dump a body with just my Harley at hand."

"I'd honestly pay to watch you try."

Tutting at me, he moves around the shop, pulling plastic sheet covers from cars.

I tap out a text to Dodger, then pocket my phone and bend down to help Milo lay the sheets on the floor.

"To make up for the fact you had to ride shotgun in my beautiful car, we can go on a ride later, okay?"

He rolls Reggie's body to the side while I slip the sheet under him.

"Okay, deal, but I get to pick the route we cruise, and the place we stop at for food. I'm tired of always going to places you chose."

"Deal," I grumble.

He sets Reggie's body back down, then together, we roll him over, making sure to keep the plastic sheet around his body.

Once he's wrapped, Milo shakes out another sheet while I grab a dirty rag from a bucket behind us to wipe the blood from my hands.

"I'll wrap him up again while you bring your shit box around to the side door."

"Keep calling it a shit box and I'll leave you here with this idiots body."