Page 78 of Target

I got a bad feeling after our last meeting with Crypt and his band of fucknuts.

Walking around, I scan the area, checking for any danger. I do not need to get bloody tonight. Each of the brothers fans out, talking, commenting on cars and bikes, trying to get a feel for the people. Some look away, some stare us down, making me laugh.

Some girls wink, giggle, and if I was a shittier man, I would lap up the attention but fuck me, these girls look like they belong in high school and should be home tucked in bed.

“What, you bikers needed around the streets?” one calls out. I look to him, and stifle a laugh because this motherfucker needs a damned belt for his pants.

“Just looking, my guy. We can appreciate some good-looking cars and motorcycles, ya know?” I reply to him.

His eyes narrow, looking over my shoulder, then they go wide.

“Well fuck me, bitches; it is Logan-fucking-Vaughn.” His voice is filled with fucking excitement but I see how Logan tenses, not stepping forward.

“I thought you left, brother,” one says, stepping forward.

“Not your brother.” His voice is low, and the smile drops off the guy’s face.

“What, you too good for us now, man?” His voice takes on an aggressive tone.

The brothers step closer and his eyes widen, seeing that Logan has backup if needed.

“Never said that, Sly. How did you afford these upgrades? Last time I saw you race, you were left in my dust and just about everyone else’s.” The prospect keeps his tone flat.

This Sly guy doesn’t like being disrespected in front of his people, and he steps forward, glaring at Logan, who does not flinch.

“I worked my ass off for my upgrades, motherfucker. Not into that drug shit that your crew has been peddling,” he snarls. Turning my head to Savage, who is like a human lie detector, he nods, telling me that Sly is not lying.

I inch forward, moving closer to Logan. “He is telling us the truth.” He nods, his body relaxing.

“Not my crew anymore. Got out, remember? But trouble has dragged me back. You know anything about that?”

Sly looks around like he is checking that the wrong ears are not close.

“I heard that you boy got cuffed, and your girl is working off his debt—” he leans forward “—But do not believe what you see,brother.”

“What do you mean by that?” Pres steps in, looming like the big motherfucker he is.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sly snaps, but I see the subtle step back he takes.

“I am the President of the Rugged Skulls MC. Now answer my question.”

Before he can say anything, we hear clapping and laughing and the familiar sound makes my fucking blood boil.

Tuning my head I see Crypt walking toward us, with his men behind him and a chick with long dark wavy hair, legs that go all the way up and breasts that are barely being contained by her top.

The way Logan tenses, and steps forward, being stopped by Pres with a hand on his chest, I take it this was once his girl. The one he came here to help.

Looking around the crowd, I see the men glaring at us, but the chick has her laser focus on the prospect, and if looks could kill, my man would be six feet under meeting his maker.

“I see that you have come into my territory now, Pres,” Crypt states with a fucking grin on his face.

“You like running that mouth, don’t you, fuckface?” I growl, inching forward, which only makes his smile widen.

“Phoenix is Rugged Skulls territory, Crypt and you know it,” Racer states firmly. “Drugs, or anything else that you are pushing, are not welcome and I will take the trash out if needed.”

“Do you hear this motherfucker? He thinks he can speak to me like that when he is outnumbered.” Crypt laughs, but so does Savage who sweeps forward, next to Racer.

The laughter dies on Crypt’s face when he sees Savage’s face. The fucker laughs manically and his smile is like the fucking clown Pennywise or The Joker or some shit.

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