Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
I had a feeling I knew the cause, but even if I was willing to wake her, we didn’t have time to get into it before I had to meet Mac. And Bickle wasn’t the type of guy who rescheduled.
A glance at the clock on the bedside table lit a fire under my ass, and I swiftly dressed and grabbed my gear, keys, and wallet.
I left Kiara a note on her nightstand, telling her I was running an errand and would be back soon. Also, ordering her to rest and that I would have someone come by with food for her.
Then I headed out to meet my brothers and go for a ride.
Mac, Cash, Rom, Breaker, and Dom all strutted into a large warehouse where we were met by a tall man in a black suit, as well as half a dozen other well-dressed males. We’d left our additional backup outside, but I had no doubt these guys were aware of the eight armed bikers waiting for a signal from us.
“Gentlemen.”
Dom snorted at the greeting. “Not a word I’d use to describe us, but if it makes you feel better…”
Mac cuffed Dom on the shoulder and shot him a look. Normally, he would step forward and take the lead in situations like this, but Mac was a firm believer in handling your own shit with the support of your family. Seeing as how this situation revolved around my girl, he remained with the others as I walked up to the slimy son of a bitch who’d threatened Kiara.
“Bickle?” I clarified.
The man in the black suit nodded. He looked calm and collected, the epitome of confidence. But the guarded look in his eyes confirmed our plan would work.
“You know who we are?” I asked in a low, dangerous tone.
“Silver Saints, I presume?”
“Right. So you know we don’t fuck around. Especially when a situation involves one of our own.”
Bickle’s composure cracked for just a second, showing confusion and wariness. “Timkins isn’t one of your own. He nearly destroyed the lives of one of your brothers. Shouldn’t you be paying him a visit, rather than wasting my time?” If I weren’t watching him so closely, I might not have seen the signs that he was blustering.
“Depends on which Timkins you’re referring to, Bickle.” I reached out behind me and caught the vest I knew Rom would toss to me. I held it up and displayed first the front, which had Kiara stitched over one breast. Then I flipped it around so he could see the big-ass property patch on the back.
“His daughter is yours?” Fear was bleeding into Bickle’s tone.
“She is.”
He swallowed hard but squared his shoulders to try to keep up his tough-guy charade.
“I was unaware of her ties to the Silver Saints. She won’t have anything to fear from me going forward.”
“What the fuck?” Another greasy snake in an expensive gray suit stepped up to Bickle’s side. “You’re not going to take out revenge for my brother’s death sentence because the bitch is fucking this asshole?”
Before the guy could say another word, a loud pop sounded, and he dropped to the ground, holding the gushing wound on his thigh—less than two inches from the family jewels—and screaming in agony. I lowered my arm but didn’t relax my grip on my gun. “You should really put a muzzle on your mutt,” I growled.
All of Bickle’s men had whipped out their own weapons, pointing them at us. I doubted even one of my brothers had bothered to reach for their gun. That was the difference between the two crews in the warehouse. The Silver Saints didn’t need to brandish our weapons to put the fear of God into whoever we were facing off with. We’d use ’em—and there wasn’t one of us who wasn’t an expert marksman—but only if there was no other choice.
These idiots were using their guns to intimidate, but even if they were stupid enough to think we’d cower, Bickle wasn’t.
“Put them away,” he snapped. “You shoot one of them, and you’ll bring down the entire fucking MC on our heads.”
Maybe he was smarter than I thought.
“I apologize for my son's outburst. Now, as I said, your woman no longer has anything to fear from me. Are you finished?”
“When I said Timkins, I was referring to the family,” I replied. “It’ll be hard enough for my woman to watch the father she thought she knew facing what he’s done in court. I don’t want her to be grieving his death.”
“You can’t be serious,” Bickle sputtered. “You're extending your protection to the judge?”
I nodded. “And her mom.”
Bickle was silent for an extended period. But eventually he waved a hand and muttered, “Fine. Fine. We won’t harm your woman or her parents.”
Something in his eyes when he agreed was off, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I had no doubt he wouldn’t harm the Timkins, yet I felt uneasy.