Page 24 of One Night with the Biker

I hoped like fuck I wasn’t making a mistake.

“I need a body bag,” I announced after I downed the glass of rum Warrior handed me.

Razor pushed his way through the guys. Motherfucker was sixty if he was a day, but he wore it well with thick salt-and-pepper hair that matched his thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows.

“We don’t transport body parts,” Razor said in his gravelly voice.

Holding up Roman’s hands, I nodded. “We don’t, Prez,” I said easily. “But he has a sister. He’s her only family. Figured we could bring her his body and let her give him a proper burial.”

By the time I carried him through the clubhouse, he’d already be in the body bag. I’d cut holes near his mouth and nose, so he wouldn’t smother. No one would know. I intended to carry him Fireman style.

Razor snatched one of the hands, held it up to study it, then stuffed it in his pocket. My guess was he wanted to practice skinning with his razor. He snatched the other one and it disappeared into the other pocket in his cut.

“Let me see his fucking body, Reese,” Razor ordered.

Sonofabitch.

If Razor noticed the rise and fall of Roman’s chest, I’d have some explaining to do.

“Did you find out why he killed Trinity?” Marquis asked.

“Wasn’t interested,” I said, and immediately regretted my words. I’d spent six fucking months mourning her. No wonder my brothers gaped at me. “Just wanted to get my lick in,” I quickly added.

Razor narrowed his icy gray eyes and cocked his head. “What the fuck’s going on? I smell a load of bullshit.”

“Nothing’s going on, Prez. His sister is twenty-one years old. She deserves to know what happened to that asshole.”

He looked me dead in the eyes. “That motherfucker breathing or what?”

“Barely,” I admitted. I wasn’t a liar. From time to time, I embellished, but I didn’t flat out lie to my president when he asked a direct question about an enemy club. Shit like that would getmefucked up. “By the time we get him to her, he’ll probably be gone, which is why I want the body bag.”

I’d wanted the body bag to sneak him out. My amended plan sounded just as good.

Prez clapped my face between his big hands, harder than necessary. “Then you should put a bullet in his head and make sure he ain’t breathing.”

“I want him to die slowly,” I replied without flinching.

My words weren’t a lie, per se. More like another amended plan.

Jester inserted himself next to Razor and studied me from head to toe. I kept my face passive.

“Trinity was his favorite slut,” Jester decided, looking at Razor and nodding at me. “Should be up to him how he avenges her.”

“He’s a Bloody Scorpion,” Bolt said with disgust, glowering at me. “Roman Mac’s entire fucking existence is a crime.”

“He’s probably already bled to death,” I said.

That was true. He’d lost a lot of fucking blood.

“So, what’s wrong with shooting him in the goddamn head to finish the job?” Warrior demanded.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some saw no harm in my actions. Most agreed with our president.

Fuck my life.

I shoved a hand through my hair and gritted my teeth. “Look, I fucked his little sister before I knew who she was. Saw his picture on her counter the next morning. I left and blocked her fucking number. Haven’t talked to her since.”

Nope, not since before we fell asleep, early yesterday morning.

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