Page 98 of Fighting a Riot

“Jesus Christ. Do I need to backhand you? Fuckin’ hell. The Devil Lancers didn’t pay me enough to do this shit. Kiss ass to pussies like Yak and Turk. Sucks I don’t get to see how scared Yak’s gonna be, just like the night I helped Crop bust into your place.”

My big mouth ran away from me. “You mean the night you ran like a coward?”

We’d rounded the southeastern portion of the beltway. Glancing at the speedometer, we were approaching Gate Parkway at eighty-five miles-per-hour.

That wasn’t that fast since most other drivers were doing speeds of seventy to seventy-five, but an ominous band of clouds loomed over the interchange with J. Turner Butler Boulevard –an area perpetually under construction. By some miracle, Prime weaved between cars and semi-trucks without clipping or sideswiping them.

He veered off the interstate not long after we crossed the Dames Point bridge. We weren’t far from the port or the zoo. I almost thought he might take me to the biker bar Yak and I visited, but then he hung a left onto a hidden driveway.

We barreled through an open chain link gate. From the number of parked motorcycles, I knew we were at the Devil Lancer compound.

The clubhouse –if you could call it that– appeared to be constructed from two double-wide mobile homes. The area between the two double-wides had been turned into a large outdoor patio to create one building.

A thin man with oily dark hair prowled out of the patio toward the car.

Prime reached between his legs and pulled a gun from under his seat. “You’re gonna get out of the car, nice and slow, bitch.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and did what he said.

The other man had come even with the car and I saw his patches. He was a Devil Lancer and his name was Ghost.

His lip curled with disgust as he took me in. “What the fuck, Aiden? You were supposed to bring me one of their women… the hotter the better.” He gave my head wrap a pointed glance. “ It looks like you brought me Voldemort.”

Prime slammed his door closed. “She can wear a fuckin’ wig instead, Ghost. Hell, she’ll be able to—”

Anger suffused Ghost’s features. “A wig? Doesn’t she have hair?”

I should have kept quiet, but I couldn’t help myself. “Chemotherapy,” I said in a smug tone.

Ghost glowered at Prime/Aiden. “You brought me a woman who could die at any moment?”

This time I kept my mouth closed, but I was itching to tell him that cancer didn’t quite work like that most of the time.

Prime shook his head. “She’s fighting it off. Hell, she was hot as fuck when she had hair. It’ll grow back.”

Ghost closed the distance between himself and Prime. “We need one more healthy female if we’re gonna make any money with the traffickers. You put my ass in a sling with this shit, moron.”

Prime’s face fell for a moment before a calculating expression took hold. “Then we hold her for ransom and take one of the other brothers’ bitches instead.”

Dread coursed through my body. They couldn’t do this. I didn’t know how I could stop them, but I’d have to think fast. The idea of Trixie, Mallory, Lisa, or any of the other women being targeted because of me filled me with rage and despair.

It struck me that if I ran, they wouldn’t have anyone to ransom. Since they were both focused on each other and not me, I took a step to the side, careful not to step on the sticks and pine cones on the ground which might make noise.

“Where’s her phone?” Ghost asked.

“I took it from her.”

He nodded. “Good. We get her tied up, I want to have some fun with those Riot bastards. Whose old lady did you say she was?”

“I’m not,” I muttered, but I didn’t use the smug tone.

Ghost glared at me, then turned his glare to Prime. “And she’s not anybody’s old lady!”

Prime shook his head, looking exasperated. “She is, Yak just hasn’t made it public yet. Hell, you should have seen how scared he was the night me and Cr—”

“Don’t say his name. Can’t fuckin’ believe he died because of the goddamn cops.”

I took two more small steps to the side.

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