Chapter 16
Mad Dog
Fuck me. When Willa said she was going to slip into something a little more interrogation-y I thought some nice comfy old clothes.
Maybe jeans and an oversized sweater. Not fucking spray on ninja clothes.
The woman is decked out in head to toe black yoga gear and it’s showing off every curve.
How the hell I’m meant to get through this shit with a dick hard enough to pound nails is beyond me.
Willa presses her lush body up against mine, her arm around my waist and I’d be a fool not to wrap my arm over her shoulder and pull her near. Now that I have her there’s no way I’m going to let her go. Within reason of course. If I was glued to her all day she’d kick my ass.
“So, that’s Rider’s brother, huh?”
“Yup,” I reply, pressing a kiss to Willa’s crown.
Rider stares at his older brother from across the room, giving nothing away in his gaze.
As the youngest of three boys to parents who were more interested in the bottle than their kids, Rider spent a lot of time at the clubhouse with Rhodie.
When he was at home his middle brother Walker would push him around.
Deacon was better with him, but he got out of Dodge as soon as he could and never looked back.
Needless to say there’s no love lost between the brothers.
“Is he awake yet?” Marx says, stomping into the Rev Room, coming to a stop when his eyes land on Chewy in a swivel chair. “You-” he jabs a finger in her direction, “are on maternity leave.”
“I’m multitasking,” she replies, ignoring Marx.
I turn to look at Rhodie, brow raised and he just shrugs, throws his arm over his Ol Lady and smacks a kiss on her cheek.
“Miles is fast asleep, Mama Debs is keeping an eye on him and will call when he wakes.” Rhodie waves his phone in the air. “So we need to get this show on the road.”
Marx stares at his VP before dipping his chin. “Loud and clear, brother.” He waves to Pops who twists the knob on the firehose he somehow acquired and cold water blasts the hell out of Mercer, not only waking him up, but damn near water boarding the poor son of a bitch.
“There he is,” Chewy coos.
“Remember babe, you’re calling the shots but we’re doing the dirty work.” Rhodie reminds her. He’s met with an eyeroll but she surprisingly doesn't back answer.
“Before we do anything, can we please find out why the hell Deacon is here?” Rider growls.
“It’s Grind now, baby brother.”
“Whatever, Deacon.”
Grind smirks at his younger brother, before winking at me when I catch his eye. “I’m here because I’ve been tracking Mercer.”
“Why?” Marx asks, arms crossed over his chest.
Grind blows out a breath, “We’ve had some shipments fucked with. Weights aren’t right, missing product, shit like that. I’ve been tracking all shipments, all transport, and the only weak link in the chain seems to be Mercer.”
“So you’re here to what? Get rid of him?”
Grind tilts his head, eyes on Marx. “Nobody fucks with the Kings.”
“That was actually pretty cool,” Mira whispers loudly to the Girl Gang who have crammed into the Rev Room.
Grind's lips tip up and he cocks his chin at Mira. “Eyes off my woman,” Tank growls at him, stepping in front of his woman who’s making swoony noises.
“Loud and clear,” Grind replies.
“What is that hissing noise?” Blanche asks, ignoring Grind, and Mercer’s moans as he rolls on the wet floor.
A soft, rhythmic hissing noise fills the silence before it dissipates. Then moments later it starts up again.
“Chewy, you have bat hearing, what the hell is that?”
“Oh, it's my milker,” Chewy says, pointing at her boobs. “I am milking as we speak. Soon, I’ll be telling ya’ll to cut a bitch while being milked.” She shakes her head. “Motherhood is a wild ride.”
Grind stares at Chewy, before looking around the room. We’re used to Chewy so we don’t even bat an eyelid.
“Yeah, this is normal, badass man,” Mira says and then squeaks when Tank pinches her ass.
Willa snorts and leans more of her weight on me, her hand on my waist drifting down and nestling into my back pocket. She squeezes just a little and my cock flairs to life in my jeans. Yeah, I dont have time for us to fuck around.
“He’s awake, get him talking. Some of us have shit to do.”
“Or people to do,” Willa mutters, finishing my thought.
I drop my gaze to hers and we both roll our lips between our teeth to keep from laughing.
“Holy shit, they’re like teenagers,” Kaia whispers while the Ol Ladies clap.
“You people are out of your fucking minds! Do you know who I am?” Mercer screams from his position on the floor.
“No. Should we?” Blanche says, looking at Mercer like he’s shit on the bottom of her shoe.
“I’m Christopher Mercer. My transport company is worth fucking millions. I can get anywhere, anytime, that’s how fucking powerful I am,” he sneers. What a dick.
“I’m sure you are,” Pops says. “But even powerful men cry when I electrocute their dicks.”
“What!?” Mercer starts crawling along the floor, slip sliding around but he’s no match for Judge and Tank as they grab him by the ankles and drag him to a metal chair in the center of the room.
“Pants off,” Chewy barks, using finger guns to point to Pops to do the honors. “While he’s doing that, what do you know about Quarter Mile MC?” Chewy asks Grind.
“They’re new, haven't been around long. That Diesel fucker is bad news and from what I can tell he seems to be doing his-” he jerks his chin toward Mercer, “dirty work.”
Marx runs a hand down his beard, “How are they connected to Richard Thompson?”
“Who?”
We all stare at Grind’s blank look.
“Richard Thompson? Ex-military, sells everything - black market weapons, drugs, skin…” Fox frowns.
Grind looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ve been tracking this asshole for over a month and I’ve never come across this Richard guy.”
“Told you,” Chewy sings under her breath.
“Do we really buy that this cocksucker-” Nitro kicks Mercer’s naked leg, “is moving dodgy shit with Diesel and the Quarter Mile and he’s doing this without Thompson’s input?”
We all stare at Christopher Mercer, eyes wide as Pops shoves something into the end of his dick.
“Damn,” Grind hisses, almost in time with the hissing of Chewy’s breast pump.
Mercer grits his teeth, refusing to scream or cry. Instead, choosing to mouth off. But we can see the pain written all over his face. He’s a tough bastard, but not tough enough to hide the fear he’s trying to cover with bluster.
“You have no fucking clue, do you? No clue who I move shit for. These people are so fucking powerful. I’m untouchable.” He grins.
“He’s bluffing,” Willa murmurs.
“Yup.”
“So, Thompson uses your trucks?” Fox presses, still trying to tie Thompson and Mercer together.
“All sorts of people use my trucks.”
Willa throws me a look, before stepping forward. “Like Diesel?”
Mercer stares at my woman with pure hatred. It’s a look that I want to wipe off his damned face, but I know this is Willa’s show.
“I lost over a million dollars the day you snitched,” Mercer sneers. “Do you have any idea what that deal would have opened up for me? But instead Diesel’s useless cunt sold us out. For what? So you can biker slut yourself out-”
Willa’s fist meets Mercer’s face, his head snapping to the side and a whimper leaving his lips.
My woman gets right into his face, teeth clenched.
“The only slut around here is you, whoring yourself out to men who don’t want to get their hands dirty.
” She steps back, moving into my arms.“You done messed with the wrong people, Chrissy boy.”
“Damn right,” Grind says, stepping up with a knife in his hand. “You mind if I ask him some questions?”
“Ding ding, ding! My boobs are done. Grind, have at him. Pops make sure you acid his dick off when you’re done,” Chewy barks, grabbing Rhodie by the hand and dragging him toward the door.
“Aye aye, Captain!” Pop salutes.
Grind watches the whole thing with wide eyes before moving his gaze to Marx.
“What she said,” Marx waves between Grind and Mercer.
“OK then.”
Rider
I frown as Deacon, I mean, Grind washes off his hands in Chewy’s fancy sink.
It has a cool foot pedal thing that you step on to start the faucet.
No need to leave blood on the tap or anything.
And it’s always warm. That’s how I know my best friend is an evil genius.
No one thinks about shit like that but Chewy. And Pops.
“You gonna say something or just stand there scowling at me?” Grind says, not bothering to turn around or even look over his shoulder.
“Ain’t got nothing to say,” I grumble.
This makes him turn, just a little. He stares and it somehow annoys the hell outta me. He used to do it all the time when I was a kid.
“How’s Mom?”
“How would I know?”
He turns fully and leans against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “I dunno, Rider. Figured you’d have seen her around town or something.”
I cross my arms over my chest, not even realizing I’ve mirrored his exact stance until it’s too late. I’ll have to stay like this now. “I see her around. Don’t mean I stop to talk to her.”
Grind nods, rolling his lips between his teeth. “Well, it’s good to see you. I always knew you’d end up with the DRMC.”
“Yeah? How’d you know that? You didn’t hang around long enough to know anything about me.” I turn away, not wanting to look at Deacon any longer.
I shouldn't be butt hurt that he left. It was years ago. I’m a grown man now. I have a family. Friends. People who have my back. I'm not that lonely beaten down kid that I once was. As far as I’m concerned I’m the lucky one.
“Rider, shit. I earned that.”
“Yeah, you did, asshole.”
He huffs, settling into position, crossing one foot over the other. “You seen or heard from Walker?”
“Not since he sold my truck out from under me and stole my couch.”
“So, he’s still an asshole then?”