Page 160 of Moon's Promise

“Who did you hand the semi off to?”

The biker’s defiant eyes spat at him.

In one quick move, Moon reached toward the sheath he kept strapped to his ankle, sliding his knife free.

“Moon …” Viper cautioned.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to kill him … yet. I’m just going to make him wish I did.”

Adeptly, his hand darted out, stabbing the biker in the same place Larissa had been cut.

His defiant attitude changed.

Moon smelled the fear which began permeating the air from him and the other bikers as they watched.

“How were you and the others going to get out of Treepoint after you ditched the bikes?”

The biker’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “Fuck you!” he screamed. “I’m not telling you shit!”

Moon gave him another grin before his hand darted out again to stab the biker on the opposite side. “Answer my question,” he told him coldly. “I hope who you’re protecting is worth dying for.”

“You’re going to kill me, anyway.”

“Maybe … maybe not. Would you rather at least fight for your life than giving it away without a fight?”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me just to get the information?”

“You don’t. You’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

It took two more cuts before the man broke.

“We were going to use the woman to rent a couple of vans,” the biker admitted.

Moon rested his hand on his thigh, keeping to his side of the bargain. “What were you going to do with her after you rented the vans?”

“We would have let her go,” he whined.

“Bullshit.” Moon chose the soft part of the biker’s belly to demonstrate he didn’t appreciate being lied to.

“Okay!” the biker sobbed. “We would have had some fun with her, and then I would have passed her along.”

“That, I believe.” Moon’s hand holding the knife rested back on his thigh. “Who would you have passed her along to?”

“Whoever wanted a piece of ass and was willing for pay for it. She would have been a hot commodity with her being knocked up.”

It was everything he could do not to sink his knife into the biker’s throat. Biding his time instead, he resumed questioning the lowlife.

“Where’s the semi?” He really didn’t give a fuck about the semi, but Greer did. It would give him bragging rights, and Greer loved to brag. He deserved to get more out of the shit he was going to have to cover up than the preserves.

“I don’t know …” Then the biker screamed when Moon started to raise his hand, “I really don’t! We drove it to a truck stop in Sparta, Kentucky. Unloaded the bikes, and I drove it to a truck stop. A hauler was waiting for us. Last I saw it, it was being loaded onto a semi hauler.”

“How much you get paid for the semi?”

“Ten grand.”

“How were you given the money?” Moon asked one question after another.

“I was given the money on delivery.”

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