Page 5 of O'Mega's Revenge
So much for not starting a war.
Chapter Two
“Password.” The prospect at the junkyard gate stopped us from waltzing in. The Destroyers’ clubhouse was walled off inside the secured junkyard.Terrible aesthetics.Not where you’d expect a raucous party. But the sounds and smells gave it away. That, and the smoke from the outdoor grills. Yes, plural.
“Hog roast,” Missile quipped. Then she nudged me to pull out the weed.
I dug in my cleavage and pulled out the baggie of prime herb. The speck tried to grab it, but I pulled my gun and pointed it at his nose. “No one but Kush touches it. Margaret sent it.”
“Shit.” His eyes were bugging out on the short little barrel of my gun, and he fumbled in his pocket for a phone.
Missile shrugged at me.
“Yo, man, got Tits and some other chick out here with a bag of chronic. They say it’s for Kush.”
He listened while Missile cleaned under her fingernails with a knife.
“Yeah, they’re packing.”
He glanced from the gun to my tits.
“Yeah, she’s got a gun on me right now… okay.” He hung up and told us to wait.
“I don’t wanna wait. What will it take, a blow job?” At Missile’s question, the kid’s eyes bugged out.
I turned to Missile and said, “Are you nuts?”
“Yes.” She dug inside her big bag of junk. I waited for her to pull out a gun. Instead, she put away the knife.
“Who’s coming out?” I asked the prospect. He was new enough that he hadn’t earned a nickname yet, so I didn’t have leverage to us on him.
The speck remained silent. That meant one of two things, he was smart, or it was one of the high-ranking Destroyers. Probably Wolf or Jackson. I braced for Wolf. At least I wouldn’t be catching him with his pants down.
Instead, Sprout came outside. And he was angry.
That meant Danielle was probably inside, unsupervised, and he was in a hurry. I held up the weed and dropped Jelly’s name.
He rolled his eyes.
“Come on.” He led us past the speck and through the maze of junked cars. There were more bikes than usual. The bonfire sparked high into the air.
“Don’t you ever worry about all the gas and oil catching fire with that blazing in the middle of this shit?” Missile pointed to the fire. There was a huge crowd of men and very few women. Almost all the men had “Destroyers” patches on their vests. The bottom rockers weren’t all Skilletsville, either. I swallowed a lump of fear.
This was why Wolf didn’t want me here.
Kush was well-liked, but not someone ever tapped to go farther than VP of bumfuck Skilletsville, PA. Nationals were here. I glanced at Spout, who had lines between his eyes. Rightly so. His wife was worth millions. Maybe even a billion by now with compound interest. She’d inherited a fortune from her late grandfather. Add to the pile that she was sweet, biddable, and cute, and Sprout probably wished he’d put his foot down and made her stay walled up at their lake house.
Missile nudged my arm. She tipped her head at someone she’d picked out of the crowd. Sure as shit, the Destroyers’ acting national president was holding court at the fire. Their actual president was doing life in prison on multiple charges, including, murder, arson, racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder, and at least one ATF violation regarding explosives. Until he died, there wouldn’t be any change of regime. But everyone knew who would step into his shoes.
I’d met the replacement. He wasn’t a good man.
My heart beat faster. I kept my head tilted away from the light without making it appear obvious that I was hiding. Missile had no such problem though. She glared at him as we skirted the outside of the crowd. My sisters knew all about my life immediately before arriving at Margaret Wheade’s farm.
“Don’t look now, but Wolf has clocked us.”
“Shit.”
We got to the door of the clubhouse before he mingled his way through the crowd and caught up to us.
