Breaking The Biker (The Biker Series)(5)

By: Cassie Alexandra



I stared out the window frustrated.

“Hey, you there?”

‘Yeah.”

“You understand? Don’t kill her.”

I wasn’t about to argue with him about it on the phone. I knew that it was a club rule, but so much shit had changed over the last twenty years that they were getting harder to follow.

“I know you’re pissed, but don’t you forget – you’re the president of your charter and need to make sure that you and your club abide by the rules we’ve set. That includes not murdering women or children.”

“I know.”

“And another thing,” he said, raising his voice. “You need to pull your shit together if you want to stay as active president. I know you’re mourning Slammer. I get that. But, you need to quit with the cocaine and any other illegal drugs your taking, son. I’ve heard talk that this isn’t exactly recreational for you right now.”

I wondered who’d been talking to him. I couldn’t imagine Raptor or Horse ratting me out. “I’ll take care of it,” I replied, knowing that it was the only acceptable answer. Bastard wasn’t anyone to argue with, and as much as I would have loved to tell him to ‘fuck off”, I knew that I had to keep my shit in check. Not only was he the most respected member of the Gold Vipers, but my old man had drilled it into my head that when Bastard told you to jump, you leaped.

“Good. Now, the van that picked up the girl, right after the shooting, is owned by a guy named Cole Johnson. He’s a prospect for the Devil’s Rangers.”

“So, it was retaliation.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it? I’m still not sure who the girl is, though. I’m sure if you can get your hands on Cole, you’ll find out all you need.”

“You got an address for him?”

“No. His club is in Davenport, though. That’s what my informant told me. Their clubhouse is located in a warehouse, somewhere downtown. Anyway, I’m sure their president ordered your old man’s hit. Probably passed down by that fuck-head, Reaper, before The Judge took him out.”

“Probably. Who’s in charge of the Davenport charter?” I asked.

“The President is a guy named Schmitty. The V.P. is some douchebag named Ronnie.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Bring this to the table tomorrow and tell me how you guys want to handle it.”

“Will do.”

“And Tank, I meant what I said. Don’t be spilling some girl’s blood over this. Everything is pointing to retaliation by the Devil’s Rangers, and you know goddamn well that someone higher up made the call. Those are the ones you concentrate on.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, get some sleep and let me know what your club decides to do, so I’m prepared for any fallout.”

“Will do.”

We hung up and Cheeks put her hand back on my knee. “Everything okay?”

“It will be. Do me a favor, darlin’? Drop me off at home and we’ll do this another night.”

She looked surprised. “Let me get this straight, you don’t want to have sex?”

“Sorry, Cheeks. I just have a lot of shit to think about.”

Like how I was going to punish the girl who murdered Slammer without Bastard finding out. Someone probably ordered the hit, but I needed the person who had looked him in the eye and pulled trigger to pay as well. Women wanted to be treated like men?

Right now, I was all for equality.

I might not blow the bitch’s brains out, but she wasn’t getting away without paying some kind of penance.





Chapter 2





I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing and groaned when I saw what time it was. One-forty-five p.m. My shift at the bar had started at one.

“I know,” I mumbled into the phone. “I’m on my way.”

“You’d better be,” said Marie, one of the other bartenders. “I have an appointment at two-thirty that I can’t miss.”

“Sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You’d better,” she said sharply.

Fuck you, I thought, hanging up the phone.

From experience, I knew that Marie’s afternoon appointments usually involved a tanning shop or a nail salon. Everything about the girl was fake, except for her personality. She was a bitch and didn’t try to pretend otherwise. Not with other women at least. When it came to men, that was an entirely different story. She flirted so badly that it was embarrassing to watch. Especially since she was married. The truth was, I’d lost count of the many times she’d given some guy a ride home, claiming he was too drunk to do it himself. Apparently, none of them were too inebriated to drive her. I’d found out her dirty little secret one night after closing. Her windows had been steamed up and the car rocking. Although I’d never given her shit about it, she’d seen me walk by. That didn’t stop her from being a twat toward me. I wasn’t even sure why she disliked me so much.

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