out of here. I’ll cut this son of a bitch ear to fucking ear if you don’t back off!”
He was gesturing wildly, his hands waving. Without a second thought, I reached up, pulling the metal pen from my hair. The long locks fell downward as I swung, slamming it home into his forearm. He screamed, his hand flinching and releasing the small blade. It looked like part of his belt buckle. The distraction was long enough for Famine to turn the tables, pulling from his grip and slamming him to the ground, the pen still standing deep in his muscle.
“Kayla,” Famine whispered, looking up as War and Death approached.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 8:
Friend or Foe
“WHAT’S GOING to happen to him?” I asked, as two club members shoved Tyrone into the back of the rented Chrysler he’d arrived in.
“Death is going to finish her chat with him, then they’ll drop him with the feds, hand over some evidence about what that asshole has been doing. He’ll disappear for awhile, especially if he starts handing over names. The Kings are fucked.”
I shook my head, looking over at Conquest as he had a close conversation with Death.
“Famine… Who’s Fong, and why is Conquest all up in arms about him?”
“Fong is a ghost,” Famine replied, visibly shaken.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I killed him.”
Conquest was coming our way, clear anger behind his muscular body. I watched the dust kick up behind him in little arcs, as each boot moved in front of the other. My heart stopped.
“He’s lying, he has to be,” Famine said, halting Conquest’s approach.
“Death can be pretty persuasive. That man is taking orders from Fong,” Conquest replied, looking grim. I admired the lines on his face. They spoke volumes.
“I killed him Conquest. He’s been dead almost seventeen years. You and I are the only ones that know who pulled the trigger. You watched him drop. The man didn’t have a brain left to operate.”
“He’s been dead long enough for someone to take his place, Famine. They are building off a name. We’re dealing with a dread pirate here. A brother, a friend, I don’t fucking care. We need to stop this before it gets out of hand.”
“Anyone who wants to be Fong is no friend of mine. I’ve buried him once, I’ll bury him again,” Famine growled.
“Tyrone says he doesn’t do face-to-face meets. Money’s wired to the account, deals by telephone. How do we find him Famine?”
Famine stared past conquest at the car, Tyrone thrashing about in the back as Death finished her interrogation. He smiled.
“If Fong is back, Lucy will know all about it,” Famine said quickly, turning to his bike. “She’ll know where to find him.”
Conquest nodded as I mounted the bike, Famine sliding in front of me.
“Horsemen! Lets ride!” Conquest shouted, the men mounting their iron steeds. Soon, a cacophony of sound rose up in the desert as we rolled out together, reaching the main road a few minutes later. The bikes took up the lane, riding two and three abreast in a big swarm as we tore up the road into Las Vegas.
The road can be appealing, and riding with the MC was a strangely adrenaline pumping experience. Men jockeyed for the front of the pack, while the Four Horsemen maintained their place toward the center, engines roaring and screaming along as the miles ticked away. It wasn’t long before we were roaring along the freeway in clear view of the strip, veering off toward a quieter part of town on the east side. The homes got bigger the further out we went, with the club roaring up to something that could better be described as a mansion as we came to a stop.
“She’s all yours Famine. I know you’re got history together,” Conquest said, laughing. I dismounted, leaning in.
“You’ve got friends in high places…” I whispered to Mark as we walked around the mansion. He deftly turned, punching in numbers on a hidden keypad recessed in the block wall. The gate opened, giving us access to
He was gesturing wildly, his hands waving. Without a second thought, I reached up, pulling the metal pen from my hair. The long locks fell downward as I swung, slamming it home into his forearm. He screamed, his hand flinching and releasing the small blade. It looked like part of his belt buckle. The distraction was long enough for Famine to turn the tables, pulling from his grip and slamming him to the ground, the pen still standing deep in his muscle.
“Kayla,” Famine whispered, looking up as War and Death approached.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 8:
Friend or Foe
“WHAT’S GOING to happen to him?” I asked, as two club members shoved Tyrone into the back of the rented Chrysler he’d arrived in.
“Death is going to finish her chat with him, then they’ll drop him with the feds, hand over some evidence about what that asshole has been doing. He’ll disappear for awhile, especially if he starts handing over names. The Kings are fucked.”
I shook my head, looking over at Conquest as he had a close conversation with Death.
“Famine… Who’s Fong, and why is Conquest all up in arms about him?”
“Fong is a ghost,” Famine replied, visibly shaken.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I killed him.”
Conquest was coming our way, clear anger behind his muscular body. I watched the dust kick up behind him in little arcs, as each boot moved in front of the other. My heart stopped.
“He’s lying, he has to be,” Famine said, halting Conquest’s approach.
“Death can be pretty persuasive. That man is taking orders from Fong,” Conquest replied, looking grim. I admired the lines on his face. They spoke volumes.
“I killed him Conquest. He’s been dead almost seventeen years. You and I are the only ones that know who pulled the trigger. You watched him drop. The man didn’t have a brain left to operate.”
“He’s been dead long enough for someone to take his place, Famine. They are building off a name. We’re dealing with a dread pirate here. A brother, a friend, I don’t fucking care. We need to stop this before it gets out of hand.”
“Anyone who wants to be Fong is no friend of mine. I’ve buried him once, I’ll bury him again,” Famine growled.
“Tyrone says he doesn’t do face-to-face meets. Money’s wired to the account, deals by telephone. How do we find him Famine?”
Famine stared past conquest at the car, Tyrone thrashing about in the back as Death finished her interrogation. He smiled.
“If Fong is back, Lucy will know all about it,” Famine said quickly, turning to his bike. “She’ll know where to find him.”
Conquest nodded as I mounted the bike, Famine sliding in front of me.
“Horsemen! Lets ride!” Conquest shouted, the men mounting their iron steeds. Soon, a cacophony of sound rose up in the desert as we rolled out together, reaching the main road a few minutes later. The bikes took up the lane, riding two and three abreast in a big swarm as we tore up the road into Las Vegas.
The road can be appealing, and riding with the MC was a strangely adrenaline pumping experience. Men jockeyed for the front of the pack, while the Four Horsemen maintained their place toward the center, engines roaring and screaming along as the miles ticked away. It wasn’t long before we were roaring along the freeway in clear view of the strip, veering off toward a quieter part of town on the east side. The homes got bigger the further out we went, with the club roaring up to something that could better be described as a mansion as we came to a stop.
“She’s all yours Famine. I know you’re got history together,” Conquest said, laughing. I dismounted, leaning in.
“You’ve got friends in high places…” I whispered to Mark as we walked around the mansion. He deftly turned, punching in numbers on a hidden keypad recessed in the block wall. The gate opened, giving us access to
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