Page 96 of Throttle

“Throttle, was it?” Pipe blocks our path, and his enormous body makes it impossible to see over him.

Throttle doesn’t answer. His blank expression pierces through the man standing in front of us.

“Right. I guess I’ll make this quick. I thought it’d be simpler with just one of you instead of your entire club wanting to rip my throat out.”

“Wouldn’t a phone call have sufficed?” I regret my sudden outburst and Throttle's grip on my shoulder suggests he wants me to be quiet.

Pipe now pays me attention, despite ignoring me before. He scans my dress, and his gaze lingers on my chest. I can sense him stripping me and a chill runs down my spine.

“The way you're looking at my girl is going to create a serious problem for us,” Throttle threatens in a manner that’s menacing.

“Good looking woman you have there, brother. But if she were mine, I’d keep her on a leash with her mouth tied shut.”

A threatening growl snaps the silence. Throttle tries to lunge forward, but I stop him with a hand on his chest. He should avoid tearing the guy's throat out tonight, speaking on behalf of his club.

“This is your third visit, Pipe. I suggest you say whatever the fuck you need to say or we’re going to believe your club is behind all the shit that’s going down.” Throttle closes both hands into angry balls of fists.

“I can accept that.” Pipe crosses his oversized arms over his chest. “Heard you got shot at. Again.”

“Yeah. Seems to happen a lot.”

Pipe snickers. “You saw them carry out a body, yeah?”

I gasp, catching Pipe's attention before he refocuses on Throttle.

A body. Oh no.

“We never verified that it was a body. Never got a look.”

“We did. The sister belonging to one of my guys. His sulking is irritating, like a miserable dog.”

This douchebag.

“Irritating? We’re not talking about gum at the bottom of your shoe. Someone’s family is dead and who knows what she went through. How can you be so cruel?” I need to learn to shut up.

He arches an eyebrow at me yet pays no attention to my outburst. “My guy wants revenge. Justice, as you’d call it, and well, I’m pretty sure you and your club will want in.”

“We’re working on it. Alone.” Throttle stresses the alone part.

“Mmm. And how’s that going?” Pipe sneers and Throttle’s jaw tics.

Based on what's been circulating in the club, their attempts to find out anything have been unsuccessful. It angers me. Throttle putting himself in such danger for a tracking device that hasn’t led them anywhere.

Throttle rubs circles on my shoulder. “Let me guess, you and your boys are going in guns blazing. That doesn't strike me as a solid plan. Why not notify the heat if she was one of yours?”

Pipe snorts. “We don’t deal with any of those pigs. This is our business. Tell your President he knows where to find me.”

The thick air of tension dissipates as Pipe hops onto his Harley, swinging his meaty thigh over. “Oh, and sweetheart, don’t go insulting me or my club before you know what the fuck you’re talking about.” In those parting words, he rides off, leaving only the sound of a rumbling motorcycle behind.

Throttle's hand tightens.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t.” The side of his mouth turns up.

The walk to the truck remained quiet. My heart goes out to the guy who lost his sister. What a devastating loss. I hope those men who harmed her receive the consequences they deserve. I can't comprehend the suffering that female must have faced. I didn’t know her name or her age. What she did for a living. If she had a family. However, I'm still saddened by it.

The drive back, I knew it was best to avoid asking about club business, but the uneasy silence has been unsettling since the encounter with the Pipe. Will Throttle and the club's heroic actions ever suffice? Will it ever end?

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