Page 153 of Steel

Red tinges his teeth when he smiles tauntingly. “She must be some fine piece.”

“Where’s Killer?” I ask through gritted teeth, making note of the patches on his cut.

Crazy K.

Just a patched member.

He groans, reaching down to grab his dick. “I bet she’s nice and snug. Imagine she’ll tighten real nice around me when I’m choking the life from her body.”

My hand trembles and my finger twitches against the trigger. “Where the fuck is Killer?”

Crazy K laughs, his eyes fearless despite being minutes away from catching a bullet to his head. “Probably getting ready to tear her tight little asshole apart before slicing her throat open.”

No sooner than the last word passes his lips, I have the gun shoved under his chin and I pull the trigger.

Wetness coats my face right before his body hits the ground with a heavy thud.

Well, fuck.

Lifting the hem of my shirt, I wipe my face and step over his body to go check on Bailee.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and bring up Wraith’s contact.

“Yeah?” he answers.

“Got some slop that needs delivered,” I state gruffly.

Bailee’s eyes are wide on me when I open the door.

“Need a pickup?”

“Yeah. The load is too heavy for just one person,” I reply, letting him know there’s only one body before rattling off our location.

“Got it. I’ll send a few hands to help.”

“Thanks. Bringin’ a cute little birdie and her cargo with me,” I tell him, aiming a wink at the frozen woman still staring my way.

“See you soon, brother,” he replies, ending the calls.

I toss my phone on the seat before pulling my cut off and laying it over the back. Reaching behind me, I grab my t-shirt and pull it over my head, then I use it to finish cleaning the blood from me.

“What the hell happened?” Lee asks.

“Had nothin’ useful to say, and I couldn’t let him continue breathin’ after he threatened your life.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding. “Makes sense.”

The unsure tone in her voice has me peering over at her. “You good?”

Her face has a queasy pallor to it as she stares at the blood-covered shirt in my hand. “Yeah, sure. I’m good.”

“Hummingbird, look at me.” When she gives me her eyes, I tell her, “It was either him or you. Always goin’ to pick you, baby girl. Do me a favor? Grab me the wipes out of the glove box.”

She pops it open and passes me the wipes I keep in there for Lyric.

Pulling a few out, I wipe down the rest of my skin, catching any spots I missed with my shirt. I toss them onto the back floorboard to get rid of later.

“I’m sorry you had to kill someone because of me,” Bailee says in a low tone, her attention trained on the fingers she’s twisting in her lap.

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