Page 79 of Target

“You need to learn to count, fuckface. You are the ones outnumbered.” He jerks his head to the side, and my brothers step forward in a line, ready to take down any fucker who makes a move against our Pres.

“We can take them, man,” one of Crypt’s guys says.

“You can try.” Racer’s voice is tight. “You see Savage here got his name for a reason. So did Target. We do not want trouble here, but if you decide to not listen to me, then well, fuck, I see a lot of spilled blood in your future.”

No one says anything for a long time, the tension so fucking thick is would choke most people. My shoulders are tight, waiting to strike if they make a move, so are my brothers. Savage is vibrating with the need to cut someone and disperse their body parts all over the desert to feed the birds.

“Val, come here, sweetheart.” Logan’s voice breaks the silence.

Val steps forward, her eyes meeting Logan's with an intensity that suggests she is seeing him in a new light. Her arms hang loosely at her sides but I see her fists clench.

She moves with caution, each step deliberate.

The way she looks at him, it is like she is seeing someone different for the first time. Her focus narrows on Logan, and I am trying to decode the unfamiliar expressions that play across her face.

Logan's once impenetrable gaze softens slightly as he watches her approach, a subtle shift that most would not see.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks, his voice steady yet gentle, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounds them.

“Am I alright?” is her only reply, before she brings her hand back to punch him but with cat-like reflexes, he catches her fist.

“You fucking bastard. You fucking left. Vinnie is in prison because of you!” she screams at him.

Logan looks shocked but I see anger swirling in his blue eyes as he holds her wrist firmly.

“My fault? You and your brother went behind my back and stole all of my savings and entered a fucking race you knew he could not win. That is why I left. You both betrayed me, not the other way around. As for Vinnie going to prison that is onhim, sweetheart. He got into bed with the wrong people and got snatched for it.”

“I am not your sweetheart. I am not your anything.” She snatches her hand back, stepping backwards toward Crypt, who laughs.

When she reaches him, he slings his arms around her neck, pulling her in for a deep sloppy kiss. A statement to my prospect. Logan looks to the ground, hands on his hips, shaking his head, but it is in disappointment more than anything.

“Enough of the dramatics. Get the fuck off our streets or we will force you,” Racer growls.

“Nah, I don’t think we will.”

“What is going on here?” a firm voice of authority comes, and we all turn to see the sheriff strolling toward us, flanked by two of his deputies, who belong on a fucking football field.

I have no idea how the hell they fit into their uniforms with those thick thighs and biceps.

“Nothing, Sheriff, just a friendly reminder to our friends here,” Racer jumps in.

The club has a good relationship with Sheriff Palmer. He knows Racer runs a tight ship after Tank and he wouldn’t do anything to risk losing the trust and support of the local law.

“Is that right?” Wallace looks to Crypt and Valerie.

His eyes scan over the girl, no doubt checking for any signs of distress, before settling on Crypt.

“All good here, Sheriff. Me and my boys were just out taking in the scenery.” He waves his hand around the crowd.

“Well, then I suggest that you move on to better scenery, boy. This here is my territory and I do not take kindly to people coming in and causing trouble. You feel me?” Wallace is an imposing fucker: big broad shoulders, he reminds me of that guy Reacher from the TV show.

Crypt hates being called ‘boy’ by the look of anger that crosses his face. Lips pressed thin, his nostrils flare, and his body tightens.

“Miss, I suggest that you find better friends.” He looks to Valerie, but I get the feeling that he knows her, which is why he said it.

Valerie glares at him. “Fuck off, Benson.” Crypt’s eyes narrow, then he smirks.

Shifting his gaze from the sheriff to me, he winks.

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