Page 25 of Rest In Pieces

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. How the fuck does me bringing him home equal getting an old lady patch? And also, what’s an old lady patch? I know some basic MC terms, but not all of them.”

“See this?” He points to a patch on his cut. “An old lady wears something like it, only it has her old man’s name on it, so other brothers know who she belongs to.”

“Sounds… archaic, but to each their own.”

“It’s part of MC culture. I don’t expect a civilian to get it.”

“Wow, sexist and patronizing. One day, you’re going to make some girl feel real lucky.”

We keep walking, the large warehouse now coming into view.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me how bringing G back gets me a patch.”

“Come on, sweetheart, do I really have to spell it out? Passed out biker in the back seat of your car, nobody around to stop you from taking what you want. And then, boom, eight weeks later, you show up with a positive pregnancy test and a demand for him to give you his patch, or you keep the baby from him.”

I glare at him in disgust. “You’re talking about rape, you prick. You might be into that, but I’m sure as hell not.”

I storm off, but he’s got longer legs than I do and catches up fast.

“I thought that before I knew you were?—”

“Broken? Caught that part did you?”

He grabs my wrist to stop me, and my training takes over. I flip him over my shoulder and stare down at him with my boot on his chest while he tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.

“Lucky for G, right? That he got rescued by a virgin and barren little old me. Do me a favor and make sure G loses my number. I’ve had about all I can stomach of Raven Souls.”

I jog the rest of the way back to the warehouse and walk through it to the gate, where the same prospect is still posted. What was his damn name? He glances over my shoulder as if looking to see who’s with me. When he realizes I’m alone, he walks over to me with a cocky swagger and a cruel sneer on his lips.

“You got me into trouble, bitch. You should get down on your knees and apologize.”

“Fuck you.” I move to walk past him, but he pulls his gun and points it at me.

“You suck my dick, and I’ll let you walk away. You give me attitude, and I’ll make it so you can’t even crawl out of here?—”

I don’t give him a chance to say anything else. I swing around, grabbing his wrist with one hand and the gun with the other. Twisting his arm aside, I pull the gun out of his hand and have it pointed at him before he can even react.

I’m beyond pissed at his point. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you in the fucking face.”

“Ravens would hunt you down and slit your fucking throat.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. You think they’re gonna let a piece of shit like you in their club?”

He takes a step toward me, so I shoot the ground near his foot, making him squeal.

The door to the warehouse bursts open, and Mac runs out, holding his cell phone in one hand and his gun in the other. “Put the gun down, Amity.”

“Now, why would I want to do that, Mac? Dickhead here made it clear that my options were sucking him off and walking away or him killing me. I’m not sure what kind of fucking place you’re running here, but I don’t want any part of it. And if you don’t let me leave, I’ll shoot you and go to the cops.”

Mac winces as someone yells down the phone loud enough for me to hear, though I can’t make out the words.

“I’ll open the gate and let you leave once you give me your gun.”

“It’s not my gun. It’s your boy’s here. He pulled it on me when I tried to leave and told me to suck his dick.”

I glance over to the small guardhouse next to the gate, noting the overturned crate someone’s been using as a seat. I take a deep breath and crack my neck, thankful I didn’t wear heels tonight.

I lower the gun but keep it in front of me. “You want me to give you this gun, Mac? You better put yours away.”

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