Page 53 of Bounty
It didn’t matter. Drifter backed up Cash. They were both on my shit list. My brother couldn’t soften me with familiarity.
“I know you’re angry, brother, but you’re not thinking logically. You would’ve gotten to Jackson, sacrificed yourself, and she’d still end up dead.”
My nostrils flared. I didn’t know how I’d ever make it up to Effie if she survived. Maybe, she wouldn’t even want me to.
“You love her. Love makes a man crazy.”
I had said I loved her, hadn’t I? At least in so many words.
“You two boys want a cigarette?”
Cash held his freshly opened pack between us. I hadn’t heard the door open. Then again, I was lost in my own misery.
Drifter accepted Cash’s offer. “Come on, Pretty Boy Floyd. It’ll take the edge off.”
Amusement danced in Cash’s blue eyes. He took a drag on his cigarette, then released the smoke through his mouth and nose. “Now I understand.”
Snatching a cigarette and lighting it, I took a drag. “Shocking that you understand anything. Assholes rarely do.”
Cash smirked. “I’m a very self-aware asshole, so fuck you. It wasn’t the insult you thought it would be.”
“What do you understand?” I grumbled.
“Why the fuck you’re shaming the fucking brotherhood with a name like Pretty Boy andmodeling,” Cash retorted. He nodded to Drifter. “You have the same face but not as much vanity.”
“My mother got both of us into modeling,” Drifter said. “I hated it. Pretty Boy took to it like a fish to water. My last gig was as an eight-year-old. Floyd did it until he was twelve or thirteen.”
Cash dragged on his cigarette. “Pretty Boy’s a shitty road name, by the way.”
“It was a childhood nickname that carried over to my biker life,” I said, following Cash and Drifter’s lead and enjoying my smoke. “I want to change it to Slice. Maybe, I’ll use you as an example and appeal to Riker to use both. Haven’t met too many motherfuckers with two road names.”
“Don’t have two. My name is Cash. Ghost is my road name. I use it less and less these days. I’ve become a steward of peace.”
Whatever that meant. I didn’t care to find out.
A white van with blacked-out windows swerved to a stop feet away from us. The passenger and driver’s side doors opened and two motherfuckers jumped out. The driver headed to Cash, while the passenger stalked to the back, allowing me a glimpse of the Death Dweller emblem.
“Problems, Saw?” Cash drawled as the driver reached us.
He bumped fists with Cash. “I started to dump that motherfucker on the side of the road, Cash,” Saw answered. “Ziggy was a word away from icing him. He wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”
“That’s why I suggested the gag, fuckhead.”
Saw grunted.
“I can’t see without my glasses!”
Immediately, I recognized Lennon’s voice. Apparently, he still wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Ziggy marched Daria’s husband into view. A ginger with a buzz cut wasn’t a bad thing, but the asshole looked as if he never got any sun.
A cotton ball had more color.
Sidling a glare at Lennon as he halted next to him, Saw dug into his pocket and came up with a pair of glasses. “Here, motherfucker.”
Lacking the ability to see his abductors should’ve been counted as a win. If he couldn’t identify us, we wouldn’t have to pluck out his fucking eyes.
Once Lennon perched his glasses on his nose, he went from nerd to pasty monstrosity. His furious hazel gaze found me. “You!”
Cash folded his arms. “Your son-in-law’s been through enough, Lenny Boy.”
