Page 7 of Revengeful Punks (Dolls and Douchebags)

All four of our heads jerk up at the same time and we look at the passenger seat through the windshield, watching Gary trying to sink down farther in his friend's car.

“The little weasel. I’m going to kill him this time.” Logan grins, looking a little unhinged as he strides over to a panicking Gary as he fumbles, trying to lock the car door, but his butter fingers keep slipping.

I slam my computer closed and put my hands in my pockets as I calmly walk over, wanting to wring his little fucking neck.

“Oh, Gary. You really do seem to find yourself in situations that are going to get you killed,” Dalton says cheerfully just as Dom practically rips the car door off its hinges.

Logan and Dalton act quickly, reaching in to drag Gary out as he struggles between them in a weak attempt to get away. Doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere unless he hobbles away with the cast on his broken leg. Courtesy of us throwing him out of his bedroom window. Good times.

“Start talking or else I’m cutting off your pickle dick and shoving it down your throat,” Logan growls in Gary’s paling face, and we all watch in disgust as a wet patch starts spreading over his pants.

“Seriously? That’s just pathetic, man.” Dalton gestures to Gary’s pants with a shake of his head, making a clicking noise with his tongue.

Gary whimpers, his eyes shifting around the parking lot, looking for an escape, but he might not even make it out alive. He makes eye contact with me, his wide eyes pleading, probably thinking I’m the weak link to get him out of this since I’m staying quiet and hanging back. I tilt my head, wondering…

“Did you watch them fuck?” I feel my upper lip curl and my hands twitching to snap his neck as sweat breaks out on his forehead.

“I–I woul–ld’nt do that!” Gary mumbles, avoiding my stare, which confirms the answer to my question.

“Why is your pulse racing then? I can smell your lies,” Dom snarls in disgust, placing the end of his silencer under Gary’s trembling chin, making his head tip back from the pressure of the barrel.

“It’s not my fault they were fucking like rabbits in the school parking lot! That slut is nasty, man. The thing she did to your gearshift” The words coming out of his stupid mouth are cut off with a muffled pained shout the moment Dalton places his palm over Gary’s mouth as I step forward and grasp his right hand, breaking his middle finger.

“Should have thrown you in an open grave and buried you alive when I had the chance. You got lucky, but it looks like that luck has run out.” Logan gets up in Gary’s face, his eyes flashing with so much anger that it makes me pause.

I think Tillie brings out the best in each of us, and not having her around is making us all go crazy. Logan and I are in for a world of pissed-off Tillie when we get her back. There's no way she doesn’t know about Paris. I bet our girl gave that skank the bloody nose. If I have to tie Tillie up for her stubborn ass to hear us out, I will.

“Since you were being a pervert, you must have heard something when they were being kidnapped.” Dalton cracks his big knuckles once after he takes his hand away from Gary’s mouth, staring intently at him, watching him visibly swallow nervously.

“I don’t know anything!” Gary’s eyes start to water and I think we would be doing the world a favor getting rid of him.

“Yes, you do. Tell us now or your brain matter is going all over the window of your car,” Dom threatens, nudging the gun more firmly under Gary’s chin to let him know he’s very serious.

“It’s Larry’s c–car.” Gary whimpers as Logan lets out an impatient growl and holds his hand up, as if to hold back a very pissed-off Italian. “They were talking about some restaurant. Sounded Mexican! Loco something?” Gary looks at us hopefully, and for once, the fucker is useful.

“Why does that sound familiar?” Dalton asks, scratching the beard he’s growing out.

“Loco Tacos. It’s on the east side, right on the border of Carlos’ territory.” Dom pulls away, swearing rapidly in Spanish.

I stare at Logan as his whole body freezes. I don’t think he’s even breathing. My brain is running a mile a minute, already one step ahead as I plan on pulling up the restaurant layout online while changing all the red lights to green at every intersection on the way so we don’t have to stop in traffic. This is gang business, which only means one thing, and I hate it.

“I have to call Jin,” I mutter grimly and watch numbly as Logan suddenly punches Gary so hard that a tooth falls out and he collapses to the ground, knocked out cold.

“This day fucking sucks. Take this piece of trash back to the club, I’ll deal with him later,” Dalton promises darkly, gesturing towards Gary before pulling off his biker vest and throwing it towards Axel, his vice president, as he starts barking at the guys to hurry the fuck up and get this mess cleaned up. They all scatter like their asses are on fire and Axel just salutes Dalton as he walks away to stand over the rest of the club members while tucking his president's vest away in his bike's saddle.

The vest can’t go in a car. It’s a biker rule.

He walks over to the idling Challenger and climbs in the front seat without even bothering to ask Dom if he minds. Dom just shoves his gun away and jogs over to his car, gunning the engine before he even has his door shut.

“You ready for this?” I grab the back of Logan’s neck, making sure he’s looking at me.

“If something happens to her…” he trails off, his nostrils flaring and eyes darkening.

“It won’t. She’s too pissed off at us to die. She knows,” I say casually, letting go and rounding towards the passenger side of my car.

“Knows what?” Logan asks, looking at me over the top of the car roof.

“Paris.”

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