Page 36 of Giving It to the Monster

“She’s mine,” Saint said.

Natasha didn’t say anything.

Egg held his hands up and stepped back. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” She chuckled as he walked away. Glancing up at Saint, she licked her lips. “If I belong to you, does that make me your old lady?”

Everything faded into nothing as Saint stared right back at her.

“What do you think it means?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

He cupped her cheek and leaned down. “It means you’re mine, and no one else is ever going to have a taste of you.”

Saint pulled away, and she didn’t fight him as he pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to deal with some club business.”

She kissed him this time. “Hurry back.”

****

Saint motioned for Ethan to follow him, along with Pipe. The business of the drugs that was killing people still needed to be dealt with. Entering his office, he closed the door once everyone was inside.

“You asked me to find what was in the drugs, and besides the usual crap, there was in fact rat poison. I’ve traced it to a supplier known as Big Ricky,” Ethan said.

“He’s got connections to the mafia, and his MO is sending out a supply of this shit, and the enemy snorts it, and boom, revenge is complete,” Knife said.

“Questions is, why is it in Sinners’ Corner?” Saint asked.

Pipe shrugged. “Only way to find out is to meet with the big guy. I can arrange it.”

“Without bloodshed?”

“Big Ricky is a good guy. He does the job he’s paid to do. We don’t have any problem with the mafia, so I don’t see why there should be bloodshed.”

“It’s the mafia,” Ethan said. “It’s what they do.”

Pipe rolled his eyes. “Are you feeling a little scared about the big bad boys?” He spoke in a baby voice.

“Shut up, Pipe. Kid’s got a point. Mafia usually means a sticky mess. I don’t want sticky mess.”

“I can arrange a meet. I’ve dealt with him before, and he’s never caused a problem. We stay out of his business, he’ll stay out of ours. It’s an honor amongst us thugs.”

Saint ran a hand down his face. “Let’s hope this is Big Ricky’s job, and a nasty coincidence.”

“If not, the mafia will come knocking. Why do MCs always end up having to deal with mafia shit? Do we have like tats that say ‘come and fuck with us’?” Pipe asked.

“I’m starting to think that’s the case. Anyway, make the call, arrange a meet. In the meantime, I’ll get this to my contact, and maybe he can find something.”

“No, don’t give that to the cop. Big Ricky will see it as an act of war. Nothing happens until we talk to him. It’s a sign of trust.”

Saint handed it over to Pipe. “Then you handle this, and give me a call when you need me.”

He wasn’t about to start a war with anyone, least of all the mafia. He wasn’t afraid. Saint had gotten over any fear that could have ruled his life. His father had made him face everything, and come out fighting.

No, he was a survivor, and the club wasn’t looking for a way to sign their death certificates.

Leaving his office, he made his way outside. He found Natasha sitting with the old ladies, and several of the men, eating a hot dog. For a second he paused, and admired the way her lips looked wrapped around the meat. It didn’t take a lot to imagine her lips around his.

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