Page 9 of Saint's Sinner

“I don’t know his lock code.”

“Fuck!”

“Where is he that you have his phone?”

“Tore off out of here after telling me you hijacked my Tequila.”

“All the tequila is banished until this issue is resolved,” Mark declared, “and before you ask, it’s non-negotiable. We’ve got enough to deal with without you tryin’ to get bloody.”

“Then get his ass back here so he can open it.”

“Already on it,” Mark replied as he tapped away on his phone, likely sending a message to Kat up at the house where Teddy had probably fled.

To Saint’s way of thinking, it took far longer than it should have for Teddy to make an appearance and cast a cautious glance between Mark and Saint.

“Open your phone,” Mark barked before Teddy could say anything.

“Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to.”

For a moment, it looked like Teddy was going to refuse to take the phone, let alone comply with the order. It was all taking too long. Saint snarled, moments away from lunging for the man again, when Teddy finally held his hand out for the device, then punched in the code once he had it back in his possession. Mark didn’t give him time to do anything else with it before snatching it back.

“Okay, what am I looking for,” Mark asked.

“Text message telling him to bite the bullet and do what he knew he needed to do before people started getting pissed, which I’m beyond right now.”

“Oh my god are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Teddy squawked, reaching for the phone only to have Mark shut that down with a glare.

Instead of saying anything to either of them, he scrolled the thread, frowning as he read through the messages.

“Who is Junkyard Whore?”

“A contact from the Harley enthusiasts’ site,” Teddy replied. “He’s whose been trying to help me locate some of the parts you’re desperate for.”

“Yeah, I saw the texts you sent with the makes and models, but these last few messages read like you’re talking in code. What’s he talking about in his last message?”

“Me needing to road trip out to the scrapyard he’s been telling me about,” Teddy admitted, squirming a bit as he answered, which was a surefire sign he was holding something back.

Mark noticed too and leveled his gaze at Teddy who squirmed a little more.

“You know I don’t know bike parts the way you guys do,” Teddy hissed. “I don’t know why you gave me this project in the first place.”

“To see how you’d handle it,” Mark snapped. “So far, you’re failing and we all know why. How long as he been telling you to hit up that scrapyard?”

Teddy’s shrug clearly pissed Mark off as much as it did Saint. His older brother slammed his hand down on the bar, words coming out clipped and growly.

“How. Long.”

“Two weeks, okay!”

“And you haven’t mentioned it because if you did you knew we’d make you take Sinn along to help.”

“There’s over a dozen guys you could send!” Teddy grumbled. “The only reason you keep choosing him is to piss me off.”

“No,” Mark said, his voice growing cold again. “I chose him because he’s the best man for the job and I hoped you’d be able to learn something. Clearly, I was wrong. The only thing you’ve learned lately is how to be a fuckin’ brat. Send me the info on the scrapyard, I’ll take care of it from here. Consider yourself removed from the project.”

“Thank you!”

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