Page 59
“It’s Grind now, baby brother.”
“Whatever, Deacon.”
Grind smirks at his younger brother, before winking at me when I catch his eye. “I’m here because I’ve been tracking Mercer.”
“Why?” Marx asks, arms crossed over his chest.
Grind blows out a breath, “We’ve had some shipments fucked with. Weights aren’t right, missing product, shit like that. I’ve been tracking all shipments, all transport, and the only weak link in the chain seems to be Mercer.”
“So you’re here to what? Get rid of him?”
Grind tilts his head, eyes on Marx. “Nobody fucks with the Kings.”
“That was actually pretty cool,” Mira whispers loudly to the Girl Gang who have crammed into the Rev Room.
Grind's lips tip up and he cocks his chin at Mira. “Eyes off my woman,” Tank growls at him, stepping in front of his woman who’s making swoony noises.
“Loud and clear,” Grind replies.
“What is that hissing noise?” Blanche asks, ignoring Grind, and Mercer’s moans as he rolls on the wet floor.
A soft, rhythmic hissing noise fills the silence before it dissipates. Then moments later it starts up again.
“Chewy, you have bat hearing, what the hell is that?”
“Oh, it's my milker,” Chewy says, pointing at her boobs. “I am milking as we speak. Soon, I’ll be telling ya’ll to cut a bitch while being milked.” She shakes her head. “Motherhood is a wild ride.”
Grind stares at Chewy, before looking around the room. We’re used to Chewy so we don’t even bat an eyelid.
“Yeah, this is normal, badass man,” Mira says and then squeaks when Tank pinches her ass.
Willa snorts and leans more of her weight on me, her hand on my waist drifting down and nestling into my back pocket. She squeezes just a little and my cock flairs to life in my jeans. Yeah, I dont have time for us to fuck around.
“He’s awake, get him talking. Some of us have shit to do.”
“Or people to do,” Willa mutters, finishing my thought.
I drop my gaze to hers and we both roll our lips between our teeth to keep from laughing.
“Holy shit, they’re like teenagers,” Kaia whispers while the Ol Ladies clap.
“You people are out of your fucking minds! Do you know who I am?” Mercer screams from his position on the floor.
“No. Should we?” Blanche says, looking at Mercer like he’s shit on the bottom of her shoe.
“I’m Christopher Mercer. My transport company is worth fucking millions. I can get anywhere, anytime, that’s how fucking powerful I am,” he sneers. What a dick.
“I’m sure you are,” Pops says. “But even powerful men cry when I electrocute their dicks.”
“What!?” Mercer starts crawling along the floor, slip sliding around but he’s no match for Judge and Tank as they grab him by the ankles and drag him to a metal chair in the center of the room.
“Pants off,” Chewy barks, using finger guns to point to Pops to do the honors. “While he’s doing that, what do you know about Quarter Mile MC?” Chewy asks Grind.
“They’re new, haven't been around long. That Diesel fucker is bad news and from what I can tell he seems to be doing his-” he jerks his chin toward Mercer, “dirty work.”
Marx runs a hand down his beard, “How are they connected to Richard Thompson?”
“Who?”
