Page 26 of Blue

Either way, the divorce would get done.

He liked not having to deal with it. The lack of the constant headache was a pleasant change of pace. So was not having to manage Angela.

Tucking his phone away, he bumbled the lyrics about it being time for his real life to begin in his attempt to sing a song by Colin Hay. He took two steps before he heard a car door close behind him.

Seeing as it was a weekday morning, he wouldn’t have paid attention if he hadn’t heard the throat clear. Glancing over his shoulder, he almost dismissed the man dressed in jeans and a collared shirt.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of pathetic to still be living in Mommy’s basement at your age?” the man commented.

Mooky knew that voice. His spine stiffened, and he turned. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. Road weary, running on about two hours of sleep and a hangover that wouldn’t quit, he doubted he had the patience to deal with this appropriately.

“Big bad biker man can’t even get a place of his own?” Officer Shouty McFuckface, also known as Dylan Holt, leaned against a sedan and tucked his thumbs into his belt loops.

“How long have you been stalking my kids?” Anger bubbled inside Mooky.

The cop shrugged nonchalantly.

“What do you want?” Mooky asked in a gravelly voice he barely recognized.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Mooky rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You can have her. You won. I’m happy with my kids and my bike. I don’t know what she’s told you, but that’s the deal. Now, leave my kids the fuck alone.”

The cop, dressed in plain clothes, scoffed. “You think this is about Angela?”

Mooky narrowed his eyes.

“The best source of information is a bitter wife. A soon-to-be ex-wife.” He brought his fingers to his lips and made a chef’s kiss gesture.

Shaking his head, Mooky snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Bringing his hand back to his pocket, Dylan nodded. “Yeah.” He pushed off the car. “That well was dry as fuck. Kudos to you on that.”

Growing impatient, as the sun rose higher in the sky, Mooky folded his arms over his chest. The clock ticked loud in his head. He only had so much time, and this waste of sperm danced on his last nerve.

“So, I guess I’ll have to go harder with the mistress. The girlfriend knows more than the wife, anyway.”

It tinged his vision red. Every muscle in his body tightened as he fought the urge to pummel the cop.

“Leave Blue out of this.” The deep rumble in his chest roared out of his mouth.

Officer McFuckface chuckled. “Don’t be so sensitive. You have to have thicker skin in this game.”

Coppy McDouche-Canoe played but he didn’t want to finish this round.

“I’m not fucking around.” Mooky pointed at the cop.

This wouldn’t end well for him if he kept pushing.

Holt lifted his brows before opening the door to his car. “Have a good morning, Charles, or should I call you Mooky?”

He’d gone too far.

Laughing to himself, the officer slid into the front seat of his car. Mooky stood on the sidewalk with balled fists, his chest heaving. Red fiery rage pulsed through his veins as the cop drove away.

Fucking around with Angela was one thing. Throwing him in jail, fine. Mooky was a goddamn one percenter, after all. It was bound to happen. Stalking his kids and threatening his woman? Now the cop had declared war.

CHAPTER 8

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