Page 28 of Spinner's Luck

“Unload it,” I ordered, and my crew jumped into action, dragging the boxes out and smashing them open.

The prospect flinched as Fang shoved a case of whiskey off the side of the truck, glass shattering across the pavement. One of the guys ripped into the supplies, tossing the contents into the dirt.

“Tell Devil,” I said, my voice deliberate and cold, “that the road up to the north is mine now. If he wants to move anything through here, he’s gonna pay for it. And while you’re at it...”

I stepped closer, leaning into the open window. The kid’s eyes were wide, his breathing rapid. “Tell Devil I want my ol’ lady returned, or he’s a fucking dead man. And tell Lucy...” I chuckled darkly, straightening up. “Well, tell Lucy Fang sends his regards.”

Fang grinned, his teeth flashing in the single headlight still burning. “That’s right. Kiss her real hard for me.”

I waved a hand, stepping back from the truck. “Now run along and deliver my message before I change my mind.”

Fang shoved Flick away, and he stumbled back into the truck, his face still combative. The engine roared to life, and the truck peeled out, kicking up dirt and gravel as it sped down the highway.

The supplies we’d destroyed lay scattered across the road, the remnants of whiskey soaking into the gravel, mixing with the shards of glass. A perfect calling card.

I watched the taillights fade into the darkness, adrenaline still thrumming through my veins. Fang stepped up beside me, his smirk sharp as ever.

“Devil’s gonna be so pissed,” he said, satisfaction dripping from every word.

“That’s the point,” I said, lighting another cigarette. The smoke curled around me as I exhaled, a grin tugging at my lips. “Let him know the game’s started. By the time we’re done, The Devil’s House MC won’t know what hit them.”

Fang chuckled softly. “You think those bastards will give our women back?”

I took a long drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing bright against the dark. “They’ll give them back. Those bastards won’t lose money over bitches that aren’t theirs.”

The rest of the crew laughed as they mounted their bikes, engines roaring to life. I climbed onto mine, the smirk never leaving my face.

This was just the beginning. With the special shipments we were running for the cartel, we’d have the money and numbers to take on The Devil’s House MC.

It had been a risky merger, but I didn’t have a choice—not after what happened up north.

So get ready, Devil. I’m coming for you.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE BAR AREAwasn’t as loud as it usually was at night.The guys were in the back playing pool, their occasional shouts and bursts of laughter floating to our table. The mood here was quieter but no less alive. I sat at a round table with Brenda, Fiona, Amy, and Tillie, nursing a whiskey that burned just right as it warmed me from the inside out.

Brenda leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, a smirk playing on her lips. She had this air about her, like she’d seen it all and wasn’t about to take crap from anyone, least of all the women now under her charge.

“You’re not drinkin’ fast enough, Lucy,” Brenda drawled, her voice threaded with humor.

“I like to savor it,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Life’s too damn short to take your time with anything,” she chuckled, blowing out a lazy stream of smoke. “Especially with this lot around. Drink up, either life’ll cut you short, or Spinner will haul your ass off before you even get a second sip.”

Tillie laughed, the kind of light, carefree sound that had no business in a place like this. “She’s got a point. Spinner’s over there lookin’ like he’s two seconds away from throwin’ you over those big, broody, tattoo-covered shoulders of his.” She waggled her eyebrows and took a slow sip of her unnaturally pink drink.

I smirked but didn’t get a word in before Amy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze darting toward the doorway like she was expecting someone. Her drink sat untouched in front of her, her small hands wrapped around it like it was the only thing anchoring her.

“Rune’s not comin’ in here,” Brenda said suddenly, her sharp eyes cutting to Amy.

Amy’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down at her glass. “I wasn’t looking for him,” she mumbled.

“Sure you weren’t,” Brenda said, her tone softening just enough to take the sting out of the jab. “Honey, you’ve got to stop mooning over that man.”

Amy didn’t respond, but her knuckles tightened around the glass. Fiona reached over, placing a gentle hand on her arm. Her quiet presence seemed to ease the anxiety that constantly hovered around Amy.

“Rune’s a good guy,” Fiona said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the room. “But Brenda’s right. Don’t go there if he’s not on the same page.”

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