Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Stitch’s brow dropped low. “Can’t be new if you got your full setta patches.”
“Already explained that shit to Wolf. Ain’t wastin’ my breath explainin’ it again. Don’t wanna trust me, then let’s end this right here, an’ I’ll have a few words with Wolf about not dealin’ with anybody but him in the future.”
Stitch pursed his lips and scratched at his shaggy beard as he considered Fletch’s low-key threat. “Guess if Wolf trusts you, gotta trust you, too.”
“Don’t give a fuck if you don’t trust me. Only here to do a fuckin’ exchange. You got what I want, I got what you want. Simple shit you’re makin’ difficult.”
Stitch tilted his head and studied Fletch.
Fletch threw up his hands. “You don’t wanna sell to me, then I’m fuckin’ out. You‘re the fucker who’s gotta explain it to Wolf. But, brother, ain’t gonna stand here all fuckin’ night playin’ the whose dick is bigger game. Already waited twenty fuckin’ minutes longer than I shoulda ‘cause your ass was fuckin’ late.
Stitch huffed out, “Twenty minutes ain’t shit.”
Fletch shrugged and started toward Nova, where she waited for him at his sled. She was leaning against it with her arms crossed over her chest and there wasn’t one smidgeon of happy on her face as Kitten glared in his direction.
Or he sure as fuck hoped it was Kitten glaring and not Nova.
“Hold the fuck up,” Stitch called out when Fletch was about fifteen feet away.
Fletch paused but didn’t turn around. He made Stitch come to him and when the biker appeared in his sights, the man was already digging deep into his cut. He palmed a bag, holding it close to his gut, most likely to hide it from anyone unexpectedly rolling into the baseball field parking lot.
“Lemme see it. Ain’t gonna get fucked. I do, then I’m goin’ to my prez an’ tellin’ him the Demons are dealin’ in Angels’ territory. You got me?”
“Only fuckin’ you’re gonna get is from your pissed off ol’ lady. Sleep with one eye open tonight,” Stitch said with a chuckle and held it out but kept it low and out of sight.
Fletch had expected to get an ounce broken down into gram baggies and ready for sale. Not an ounce of slightly yellow shards of ice. “You don’t got this shit broken down? The taste he gave me the other night was powder. What the fuck!”
Stitch sniffed hard. “Processin’ costs extra. Now you can cut it however you want. Endless fuckin’ possibilities.”
Fletch grabbed at the baggy. “Whatever.”
The Demon quickly pulled it out of Fletch’s reach and shook an open palm at him. Grinding his teeth, Fletch dug into his cut and pulled out a tight roll of marked hundred dollar bills.
He made sure to exchange the money for the product at the same time. Crew would be pissed if the feds’ money disappeared and Fletch didn’t have anything to show for it. And he sure didn’t trust the fucker standing before him.
He tucked the drugs into a hidden pocket inside his cut. “That’ll get me started but what if I want a pound?”
Stitch was thumbing through the roll of cash, making sure it was all there. Once he was satisfied, he hid it in his own cut and lifted his gaze to Fletch. “A pound sure’s a fuckuva lot for a street dealer like you.”
“How the fuck would you know since you don’t know shit about me? And you didn’t answer my fuckin’ question.”
Stitch shrugged and spit on the ground. “Talk to Wolf.”
He would’ve done that if Wolf had showed the fuck up like planned. He bit back a sigh. “Will do that.”
With a nod, Stitch headed over to his sled and straddled it. His Harley roared to life a few seconds later and within a minute he was gone.
Leaving Fletch alone to deal with the fallout of that unexpected backhand to his partner’s face.
Nova’s eyes tracked Fletch as he returned to the Harley. She forced her jaws to unclench as he stepped boot tip to boot tip with her. He ground one hand against the back of his neck and planted the other on his hip. “Fuck, Nova. Sorry. You pissed?”
She lifted a single eyebrow. “Do I look it?”
“Yeah, you’ve been fuming over here the whole time.”
“Do you blame me?” Not breaking their locked gazes, she pushed off his bike and stood, making him take a step back. “That was bullshit, Fletch. I wasn’t expecting it.”
He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his beard. “Know it. It was the only quick way I could think of to convince that motherfucker we aren’t cops.”
“I’m aware we need to remain in character and act appropriately but that doesn’t give you a pass. I wasn’t prepared.”
“I know and I feel like a fucking dick about it. If it’ll make you feel better, you can hit me back. Just be careful of my pretty face.” He grinned in his lame attempt to lighten the mood.