Page 8 of Unhinged
Her eyes flash with anger, but she’s smart enough to back down.
“Arrow,” she whines, but I’m already walking past her, not bothering to look back.
Stacy’s a means to an end for the other guys—a quick fuck, nothing more. But I don’t mess with club pussy. Not me, Gears, or Acid. We’ve got bigger plans, a future that doesn’t involve drama or distractions.
We’ve been looking for our Kismet omega and when we do need to get laid, we find someone not involved in the MC life and share her for the night. Fucking club pussy as the three top officers, would just cause drama when we meet our omega, so we agreed to steer clear.
I head out to where my Harley-Davidson Iron 883 is parked, running my hand down the sleek, nugget yellow fender. She’s a beauty, my pride and joy, and the roar of her engine as I turn the key is like music to my ears. I back out of my spot slowly, savoring the power beneath me before I kick my feet up and hit the gas, tearing out of the compound and onto the open road.
My mind reels with frustration. It shouldn’t be this damn hard to find one killer in Renegade territory. You can’t just kill folks here and get away with it. This guy’s not only murdering on our turf, but he’s also targeting the same pieces of shit we’re after. It’s almost like he’s trying to do our job for us, but dead assholes don’t talk. And we need information.
I start cruising through town, making stops at every corner where our rats and low-level dealers usually lurk. I roll up on a couple of our usual informants, guys who typically have their ears to the ground, but they don’t know shit—or at least they’re too scared to say anything.
As the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the pavement, I pull into a dingy alley where one of our more reliable rats, Eddie, is known to hang out. His eyes widen when he sees me approaching, the fear in his gaze giving me a hint of satisfaction. Good, he should be scared.
“Eddie,” I growl, parking the bike and striding up to him. “What do you know about Kenny?”
“N-nothin’, Arrow, I swear. I didn’t even know he was dead until this mornin’,” the beta stammers, his hands shaking as he tries to light a cigarette.
“You better start remembering somethin’, or you’ll be next,” I threaten, low and menacing.
He swallows hard, finally managing to get the cigarette lit. “Okay, okay, look… word is there’s a new player in town. Some ghost of a guy. No one’s seen him, but he’s making moves, taking out the trash, and nobody knows why. But I heard he might work for someone big. Maybe even outta town.”
I narrow my eyes, considering this new information. It’s not much, but it’s a lead. “You hear anything else, you come straight to me. Understand?”
Eddie nods frantically, his cigarette nearly dropping from his trembling lips. “Y-yeah, Arrow, I got it.”
With that, I leave him to stew in his fear, the rumble of my bike echoing through the alley as I ride off. This shit’s getting more complicated by the day, but one thing’s for sure: I’m not stopping until I find this killer and make him pay.
The restof the day was a bust. Every dealer I talked to had the same story—no one knew where Kenny was getting his shit from. They assumed it was us, and I had to remind them the rules still stand, or they’d be meeting Acid in the basement.
Someone murdered Kenny last night. It’s only the next day, and already someone has taken his spot dealin’. I met the new guy; he goes by Mario and seems alright as far as dealers go. I reiterated the rules to him, in case he thinks it’s a free for all here.
Apparently, Mario was appointed by the manufacturer himself, which was interesting, since usually they don’t give a fuck who’s dealing as long as they get their money. So we’ll have to keep an eye on him just to make sure he stays on the up and up.
My stomach’s growling like a damn bear, and I haven’t eaten all day, so I pull my bike into Ruby’s and park. Arky insists they have the best fries and I could go for a burger right about now. If I’m feeling nice, I might even bring the guys something back.
The smell of grease and fried potatoes hits me the moment I step through the door, and my stomach rumbles in response. It’s been years since I’ve been in here, maybe three or four, but the place hasn’t changed. The same old booths, the same dingy lighting. I pick a booth near the door and drop into the seat, flipping open the menu just as a familiar voice reaches my ears.
“Hey, welcome to Ruby's. Can I get you something to drink to start off?”
“Well, fuck me.” I close the menu and look up at the sexy little beta who was sleeping with a corpse.
Her smile falters when she recognizes me, her eyes widening in fear.
“I-I-I haven’t said nothing to anyone, I swear,” she whispers.
“Oh, I know, Sweet Thing,” I drawl, letting my gaze travel over her slowly, taking in the way her diner uniform clings to her curves. “I’m here purely by coincidence. I’ll take a Coke and the Deluxe Basket,” I say, licking my lips as my eyes linger on her chest. She’s just as stunning now as she was last night, her curves practically begging to be touched. Don’t get me started on her stunning hazel eyes and the reddish brown hair she has piled on her head in a bun. Last night, it was down and hung to her tits.
“That’s it, you’re sure?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, a hint of fire sparking in her eyes. So she’s got some fight in her after all.
“Yup. Just went out riding and got hungry. I’ll be coming around more often now that I know you work here,” I tease, watching as she walks away, her hips swaying with each step. There’s something about her that’s got me hooked, something that doesn’t quite add up. Last night she seemed meek and scared, but today she’s full of fire and defiance.
She returns with my drink, setting it down on the table with a practiced smile before turning to leave. I grab her wrist gently, and she snaps her eyes to mine, that fire sparking again. “Sit. Join me for a minute.”
“Why?” She raises a brow at me, clearly not impressed with my demand.
“I’d like to ask you a few more questions and can’t a guy ask a pretty girl to join him for lunch?”
