Page 49 of Cash

“Yep. His is hacking into computers, and mine is kicking motherfucker’s asses.” I arched an eyebrow. “Who’s the toughest?”

“I’d say the two most capable fist-fighters in the club are you and Tito,” he responded. “No doubt.”

“Okay.” I relaxed into my chair and crossed my arms. “Which one’s tougher?”

He rolled his eyes and then looked right at me. “You.”

“Are you saying that because you think I am, or because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

I stood. “Good. Then you can repeat that statement in front of that broken-jawed motherfucker in Wednesday’s meeting. You know, when he brings in the beer for losing that race.”

“I wasn’t done,” he hissed. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“You might not be done.” I said over my shoulder. “But I am. I’m going for a ride.”

Baker was still babbling when I walked through the door, but I didn’t hear a word he was saying.

My mind was on other things.

Things I hadn’t thought about since high school.