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“Ain’t no sense in draggin’ his dumb ass. We’ll get caught for sure,” Pee Bee said. “I’ll just carry the fucker.”
We only had to go a hundred yards, but carrying a dead body wasn’t as easy as one might think. My experiences in combat taught me that the dead and wounded were more difficult to carry than someone who was alive and well.
With minimal effort, Pee Bee hoisted the dead body over his shoulders. “Lead the way.”
Using my shirt to keep from leaving fingerprints, I opened the back door. “Through this yard, then through that yard. Stretch is parked in the street. Ready?”
He nodded.
Without incident, we rushed through the two yards, and up to the side of Stretch’s truck. I checked over each shoulder. “Toss him in the back.”
“Open the door,” Pee Bee demanded. “I’m puttin’ him in front with us. It’ll look like he’s drunk.”
“Toss his ass in the fuckin’ back,” I growled.
He shifted the dead body on his shoulders and glared back at me. “We get caught with him in the back, we’re fucked. Open the fuckin’ door.”
“You two fuckers need to get in here, or we’re all gonna get got,” Stretch warned. “Hurry the fuck up.”
“Toss his ass in the back,” I demanded.
“Sure thing, Boss.” He sighed, rolled his shoulders forward, and ducked his head. The dead body rolled over the top of him and dropped into the back of the truck with a thud. “We get busted, it’s on you, Crip.”
I pulled the truck door open and motioned toward the inside of the cab. “We ain’t getting’ busted, I’m sick of arguing about it. Get in the fuckin’ truck.”
After a short glare, he got in.
With the dead body in the bed of the truck, we rode to the shop in silence. Strangely, I wasn’t concerned with murder charges, Whip’s dead brother, or disposing of the body. My focus was elsewhere.
The girl from the bar with the tight little pussy and the mile-long attitude was on my mind, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was looking forward to seeing her again.
There probably wasn’t a handful of girls that would show up at the clubhouse of an outlaw motorcycle club – even if they were invited. Considering the events of our first meeting, Peyton, the newspaper reporter, probably shouldn’t show up.
Her mouth and her attitude, however, told me she was an adventurous little bitch.
And I planned on finding out just how daring she could be.
