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“Evie,” Matty warned, not brooking anything less than the truth, “tell me why you’re upset?”
The hell with it! He’d find out anyway when the moving truck was parked outside my front door. Not seeing any reason to lie or protect Charles, I informed Matty about the conversation I’d just had with my lecherous landlord.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, his fury nearly palpable through the phone, “your asshole landlord stopped by your home at ten o’clock at night to tell you he was raising your rent by two hundred dollars. And when you told him you couldn’t pay that amount, he mentioned ‘alternative forms of payment’ in the form of dessert. Do I have that right?”
“Yeah,” my voice hitched. “He’s a disgusting pig and I’m sick of him stopping by unannounced and peeping through my windows. I should have left after the first month when I found him alone in my apartment “inspecting” a leaky faucet, but it’s nearly impossible to rent a place at my age that’s within my budget.”
Matty listened without interrupting. “I’m coming over, Babe,” he consoled. “I just have to finish up a job I’m working on, but it won’t take long. Lock the doors and call me if the fucker tries to return. I’ll be there within the hour.”
* * *
Buse, Nevada
Bishop
I hung up the phone and tried to cool my raging temper. It didn’t work. I was still far too fucking angry to do anything but hit something that could bleed.
German caught my gaze and said, “You good, Bishop?”
“I will be,” I told him, pocketing my cell. “You up for a ride to take care of some business tonight?”
“Always, Brother,” German answered, setting his pool stick down on the table.
I glanced over at Bomb who’d been playing against German and was following the conversation closely. “What about you, Bomb? You interested in taking a ride and fucking up a piece of shit landlord?”
Bomb grinned like it was his lucky night. “Hell yeah.”
“Let’s ride then,” I returned, my keys to my bike already in hand.
Pipe was coming down the stairs just as we were exiting the Clubhouse. Thinking we could use his expertise, I asked him to ride along as well.
We pulled up to my girl’s apartment complex riding four deep. Cutting the lights and our engines, we parked outside number 1A. Pipe had been able to find Charles Lind’s address online in under a minute. Another reason, other than his right hook, that I was grateful to have the brilliant man by my side.
Bomb stepped off his bike and whistled. “You let your girl stay in this shithole, Bishop?”
The question stung my pride. “Evie’s moving out by the end of the month,” I told him, tugging off my helmet. I wasn’t sure where yet, but I was certain she was going.
“Look at the bright side,” Pipe interjected, using some device that he was pointing up in the corners of each apartment doorway. “This place is such a dump, the landlord didn’t even bother to set up a single camera or security system to protect his tenants. I was all ready to block the signals, but there aren’t any to block.”
There was that. No one would see what we were about to do, which I appreciated. Now I could really enjoy myself. Fully lean into the man’s well-earned beating.
Me, Pipe, and Bomb stepped to the side of the door frame as German knocked hard on the hollow metal door. We didn’t want to tip off Lind about what was about to happen, so I couldn’t risk the asshole recognizing my face.
After another minute of silence, I decided I wasn’t going to wait for an answer at all. We knew the bastard was hiding inside and the flimsy barrier wouldn’t take much more than a swift kick of my boot to force it open. If the fuck face didn’t come to the door within the next ten seconds, that was exactly what I was prepared to do.
Charles cautiously approached the door when German refused to let up. When he peeked out his peephole, his pupil widened then swiftly disappeared altogether.
“Go away, I’m not donating to any charities at the moment,” he called through the door in a nasally, high-pitched voice.
Pretending not to hear him, German kept up the obnoxious knocking. After repeating himself two more times, Lind finally gave in and cautiously unlocked his door.
“I said I’m not—,” but he never got a chance to finish his statement.
Rushing the door, I planted my booted foot against the hollow metal and wedged it open further. Giving it a quick thrust, I felt the satisfying crunch as it smacked up against something fleshy. Standing too close, Charles got a mouthful of metal as it kicked back into his face. His nose erupted like a fountain and began to pump streams of red into his hands as he cupped the now crooked appendage.
“Knock, knock. Anyone home?” Bomb called as he strolled eagerly into the living room behind me. German followed next, then Pipe, who wordlessly closed and locked the door behind him.
Terrified by the four large bikers suddenly invading his personal space, Charles reeled backward and fell onto his couch. “Who are you? What’s going on?” he cried out, his voice muffled from his cupped hands pressed against his leaking nose.
