Page 60 of Silver Spoon MC Collection: Loni's Crew

“Want a beer?” Cash asks as I rush through the door.

“No,” I tell him. “I have a problem. A real fucking pain in the ass problem.”

I watch the President’s eyes turn stormy as I explain Oakley’s run-in with the motherfucking principal.

“You’re fucking joking.” He slams his hand down on the coffee table. “That is one brave motherfucker,” Cash mumbles under his breath.

“Chris Branson owes us several favors after all the shit his little brother put us through. It’s time for me to give the mayor a call and ask for help with the asshole principal.” Cash sighs. Brady Branson, the mayor’s brother, was the shittiest Prospect we’ve ever had. Brady and his brother neglected to tell us about the Prospect’s past legal trouble, and our standard investigation didn’t pick it up since a small-town judge only listed the warrant locally.

When Sheriff Armstrong came looking for the fucking Prospect, we discovered his past mistakes. The dipshit had started a bar fight that led to the bar being destroyed. His family stepped in, and the lucky bastard was only sentenced to a few days in jail and restitution. In true entitled moron fashion, he skipped town while still owing the bar owner twenty thousand dollars. The judge issued a local warrant for his arrest that was lost in limbo. The county later updated its computer system, reissuing all outstanding warrants nationally. Hence, the sheriff looking for Brady and us discovering the fuck-up. We tried to deal with the little asshole, but he ended up betraying us to an outlaw club. Long story short, the dumbass’ stupidity led to his death. At least we’re pretty sure he’s no longer breathing. No matter what, the little fucker isn’t our problem anymore.

The women come giggling in the door, and Cash signals for me to keep my mouth shut. “Hey, what are you doing over here?” Hadley asks. “And where’s Oakley?”

“She’s at home trying to rein in Grammy and Quin,” I tell her honestly. Last week, Quin tried to buy the fucking dog a pink bowtie to match mine.

“Oh.” Hadley senses the tense atmosphere around us. “Tell her to call me,” she tells me before walking over to kiss her husband. “I’m going to rush through a shower if you want to join me.”

“I’ll let you know what happens with Chris Branson tomorrow.” Cash points at the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure it’s the principal, not your woman, who’s unemployed next week.”

I trust Cash to help me. Honestly, my first instinct was to handle this myself, but I didn’t want to spend my wedding day behind bars for murder.

“Thank you,” I tell him before rushing home to my woman. A shared shower is suddenly sounding really good to me.

CHAPTERFIFTY-SEVEN

RAFE

True to his word, Cash has a talk with Mayor Branson on Monday, and the school board suspends Anton Richardson on Tuesday. Cash and I have a little talk with the asshole on Wednesday.

We’re sitting in Cash’s SUV parked across the street from Richardson’s house way too fucking early in the morning. “Giant says the dumbfuck walks his dog every morning at the same time.”

“Looks like Giant was right.” I point at the front door and watch the sleazy motherfucker walk out holding a leashed dog. His loud, yappy little dog might be a problem, but we planned ahead.

“I’ll deal with the dog. You have five minutes to make your point to dumbass,” Cash tells me. “Just remember my wife will have my ass if we end up in jail,” he calls as I jump out of the SUV.

“Good morning.” I block dipshit Richardson and watch his eyes widen. “I’d like to have a talk with you.”

The tiny furball shows his teeth and growls, but Cash walks up with a piece of meat and lifts it off the ground. He has a way with animals, and within seconds, the dog is eating right out of his hand. Literally.

I grab Richardson by the collar and pull him behind the SUV. Wrapping my hand around his neck, I lean close, so we don’t have any miscommunication. “We need to get a few things straight. I’m the thug biker that’s marrying Oakley.” His eyes widen as I tighten my grip on his throat. “This is the only motherfucking warning you’re going to get. If you ever come near my woman again, I’ll kill you and they will never find your fucking body. You aren’t allowed to look at her, talk to her, or even breathe the same air as her.” I thump him hard against the side of the SUV. “Do we understand each other?”

The stupid shit wheezes out, “I already lost my job. What more do you want?”

Seeing red, I tighten my grip until his eyes bulge out. “You’re supposed to be a smart guy. Figure it out.” He drops to his knees and gasps for breath as I walk away.

“It’s done,” I tell Cash and give the little dog in his arms a pet. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” My MC President always has my back. “I had a shovel in the back just in case we needed to hide the body.”

“I figured as much,” I tell him and watch as he places the little dog next to Richardson on the ground.

“Pee on him, buddy.” Cash laughs.

As we drive away, Cash looks over at me. “Sheriff Armstrong and his deputies are eating breakfast at the 5thAvenue Diner on you right now.” I had no doubt that he would make sure there was no chance we would end up in jail today. “And Hacker made sure all the cameras up and down dipshit’s street are conveniently down.”

“I’m starving,” I tell Cash. “Feel like stopping by the diner on the way back to the clubhouse?”

“I could use a big breakfast special.” He smirks. “My wife was an animal last night, and I need to build my strength for what she has in store for me tonight.

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