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“You want me to do it… that’s just…”
“She’s got to go. If she’s not dead, then you will be. That’s a promise.”
His jaw tightened and he nodded. There was no use in talking back to the detective.
“Get the fuck out of my cabin,” the detective said. “You have a bitch to kill.”
The detective cackled.
He walked out of the cabin and to his shitty car and drove away. Before getting back onto the main road, he pulled over and sat there for a bit. Just to think.
He was stuck now. He actually set the club up to topple. But then Linc’s old lady showed up and ruined it. Now he was ordered to kill her.
There was too much risk there. Too much heat. The vibe in the clubhouse was already off. There had to be another way. Fair enough—Nova had to die.
But what was the harm is hiring someone else to do it?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cooking in the AM
Slade barely slept. Just a casual nap here and there in between getting his dick sucked by Maggie and having Maggie climb on top of him and ride him. She was adorable, sexy, perky and a vixen between the sheets.
There was zero chance of Maggie escaping the deecee world. Not that any of it mattered. What mattered?
There’s a fucking rat…
Slade had a way of keeping his head straight and keeping the club calm. Way too early for him to be awake—also known as sleeping in for the regular person out there chasing their nine-to-five nightmare. Slade slid his right hand between Maggie’s legs to wake her. She stirred.
“Make me some coffee,” Slade ordered. “And put some fucking clothes on.”
Just like that Slade was officially done with Maggie. For now. That was the life of a deecee. For Maggie, she safely spent the night in an outlaw’s bed. Comfortable? Sort of. Great sex? Hell yes. Feeling visible? Always a good feeling.
Slade went to take a piss and Maggie found her shorts and tank top from the floor. She left her thong behind—a little bit of a calling card. Just in case Slade found the thong, felt lonely, and wanted more attention.
Maggie went to make coffee and she found Priest playing pool alone. She sensed something was off. Slade walked to the bar, nodded to Priest, and waited for coffee.
Then he called Linc.
Linc was already awake when his phone buzzed on the bedroom floor. He didn’t mind Nova’s house and bedroom. Away from the clubhouse. Away from the outlaw life.
Distance from the rat.
The bedroom smelled like Nova. Something sweet, soft, calm and kind. Yet that little subtleness that had hit Linc hard. Made his nose tingle. Made his heart race. Made his cock throb.
He leaned over and brushed his lips to Nova’s shoulder. He eased out of the bed, stepped into his jeans, and left the bedroom to answer the call from Slade.
“Don’t worry, brother, I’m alive,” Linc said.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Slade said.
“About the same here.”
“What do we do, Linc?”
“We move carefully now. Until we sort this out. Panicking and freaking out and accusing everyone will kill us.”
“I can’t help the feeling though, brother.”
