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“I think I’ve got something, brother,” Darrow yelled to him. “One of my intel guys. Old rogue member of SS13. He was at a bar boozing it up and heard some guy talking about a side gig. Killing a biker’s old lady!”
“Get me a name, location, everything!” Linc growled. “Fucking scum. Are they the ones who tried to kill me?”
After all this bullshit there was a good chance that Steel Streets 13 (SS13) wanted to start a war with SOFRAW? Which meant if that were true, they were following the club around. How else would they know about Nova? And Linc? Or maybe it tied back to Nick some more.
That scum fuck of a club dealt in meth and had no problem bragging about it. They loved using it. Dealing it. Making it. Linc’s head spun some more. Soon the rest of the guys were parked around Linc and around Darrow.
“SS13,” Darrow said.
“I can’t wait,” Linc said. “I’ll drive right through their shitty compound and kill them all myself.”
Cyrus bellowed an order for Linc to stay. It was too late. Linc’s foot to the gas pedal of the truck was like that of a magnet. Or like the love he had for Nova. Losing her when he was eighteen was one thing.
Losing her now… that was not an option.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Fucked
He had the best disguise he could come up with. For certain the leather cut was rolled up and placed on the front seat. Then he hid as much hair as he could into a black baseball cap, bill facing forward, pulled down a little. He added a pair of aviator sunglasses too.
Foolproof plan? Not even close. But if he gave him a small chance at not being recognized then so be it. He knew simply getting here was a goddamn miracle. The entire SOFRAW charter seethed at a chance to get their hands on the person or people that took Linc’s old lady. “She wasn’t supposed to be taken,” he said out loud as he charged toward the house.
The FOR SALE sign had been knocked over. The door busted open. Everything according to plan, except that Nova was still breathing. Unless…
He pushed the door shut behind him the best he could and called out, “I’m going to kill you, you fucking cocksucker!” That’s when Marcus walked from the kitchen, holding a bottle of whiskey by its slim neck.
“What’s up, brother?” Marcus asked.
He walked up to Marcus and shook his head. “Is she alive?”
“In the basement. Tied up. Chained up. Puking.”
“She’s supposed to be dead,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Have a drink and calm down,” Marcus said. “This is all going to work out for our benefit. Together. You and me, brother.”
“There is no you and me. I hired you for a job. Do your fucking job.”
“Or what? What are you going to do me? Fire me? Man, I don’t even know who you are. Or what you got against SOFRAW. But, man, it must be big. Really big. So I’m thinking I want more of the action.”
“Action?”
“Money. I want more money.”
“Oh, you fucking scum…”
“This is economics.”
“This is how you end up with a bullet in your head,” he said. “I’ll kill you right now.”
“Go for it,” Marcus said. “See, I don’t think you will. I think I can hold off. I think I can squeeze more out of you. You need me. I don’t need you.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Cyrus, telling him to regroup. That they knew where Nova was. They had the address. Where the fuck was he?
“Shit,” he cried out.
There was no time for anything but saving his own ass. He looked at Marcus. He nodded and backed up.
