Page 78 of Unhinged
“Brydgett!” Acid barks from somewhere to my right. “No one talks to the prez that way. Especially in front of company.”
I flash a wink at him. “He’s notmypresident. I keep reminding you all that.”
“Women don’t meddle in club business, babe,” Arrow adds, patronizing from where he stands.
I don’t even look at him. “Fuck that. I’m in whatever business I wanna be in. And if you three really think I’d evenconsiderbeing your omega, then I sure as hell will be inallthe business.”
“Omeg—” Gears starts.
“No.” The words cut sharp. “I’m in or I’m out. All the way. And you know why. Don’t push me.”
“A lovers’ quarrel.” Nikola chuckles against the knife. “Do go on.”
My grip tightens just enough. Just enough to remind him.
He knows it, too.
Nikola may be taller, stronger—but he also knows better. He could overpower me. Of course he could. But not without risk. Not without bleeding for it.
I lean in, close enough for only him to hear.
“Don’t think about trying to get away, Nikola. You’d probably pull it off—but I’d slit your throat before you got far. And this suit’s already got blood on the shirt, thanks to you. I'd rather not ruin the rest.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he spits between clenched teeth.
"Okay, Nikola. You put on your little show. Big boss man posturing, all the theatrics... cute. But you know damn well this is Renegade territory. They play nice with the cartel. You want the cartel gone? Then this—” I press the knife just enough to remind him it’s still there, “—isn’t how you treat guests at your housewarming.”
He swallows hard, rasping, "No. I suppose not."
In front of me, Gears shifts, probably pissed I got the jump on Nikola before he could. He's always so damn bossy. Overbearing. Loud. But right now? He's quiet. Lets me do what I do best. Finally.
"So you have the manpower to take down the cartel? To stop the trafficking? Because if not, this conversation is dead before it starts."
"Yes," Nikola groans.
"Gears? That okay with you? Nikola’s mafia takes down the cartel?"
Gears’ words come out hard. “Yeah. But we want in. They go down, we do it together.”
“Nikola?”
"Done."
"Cool." I let my lips twitch into a smirk. "Next: Gears has offered to supply your drugs minus two itty bitty icky ones. I think that was generous, considering. Do we agree to that?"
"Fine," Nikola grinds out. "No Spice. No Flakka."
"Or tar," I add sweetly. "Speaking of which... I fought your little ragamuffin in the cage. Played your game. Now. Who was Kenny dealing for? Because it wasn’t them. And the rat up front said if I wanted tar, I had to come to you. So?"
He goes still. Muscles tense under my blade—just a twitch, but it’s there. Not fear exactly. Not yet. But he’s listening now.
I press the blade harder. "Tsk, tsk. Not nice. Kenny met his maker, courtesy of the Alpha Slayer. Ring any bells? I'd hate for you to be next. Word on the street is that the Renegade's got the Slayer in their back pocket."
"Lies," he spits.
"Nope. Overheard the deal myself when they had me tied up in their basement. So. Who was supplying Kenny with his heroin?"
"I did." The words fall from his lips like cement. "But he was only supposed to sell it at the fights. He shorted me at the last big event. I was gonna go looking for him, but he ended up dead."
