Page 7 of Restless
Brooks swallowed again. Heaved in a breath. Finally, he pressed the button.
“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” Shaggy Motherfucker demanded once the window was rolled down.
High fences surrounded the property, so Johnnie couldn’t discern if an army of motherfuckers trained guns on them, ready to fire.
“Repeat your name.”
“Brooks Redding.”
“And the motherfucker in the passenger seat?”
Johnnie leaned forward, all the better to see fuckhead. “I’m Johnnie. Bash’s little brother,” he said blandly. “Outlaw’s little brother.” Only by six months. Asshole didn’t need a fucking family history.
The gatekeeper leaned into the car and dropped his gaze to the patches on Johnnie’s cut. Straightening, he backed away and opened the gate.
By the time Brooks pulled into the parking space another biker directed him to, Johnnie had lit a cigarette. Jamming it in the side of his mouth, he got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Standing for the first time in several hours felt good. His full leathers and steel-toed boots protected him from the January cold.
“It’s a full house,” Brooks said, suddenly at Johnnie’s side, briefcase in hand, glancing around the parking lot in wide-eyed fear.
Puffing on his cigarette, Johnnie nodded. Chrome from several dozen bikes gleamed underneath the winter sun. Bikers walked between narrow pathways, keeping watch.
The biker who’d allowed them entry halted in front of Johnnie. A patch proclaimed him ‘Stone’.
“Always heard you were the smart one.”
Stone hocked a wad of spit. Droplets brushed against Johnnie’s cheek as it blew past him. Stone would pay for that fucking insult.
“Wearing your colors and showing up uninvited might be perceived as a threat.”
Johnnie blew smoke into Stone’s face. “Granting me access whenyoustopped me at the gate might be seen as treason.”
“We come in peace,” Brooks said with admirable force. “Bash should be expecting us.”
Stone kept his icy gaze on Johnnie. “Bash is expectingyou, lawyerman.”
“Brooks values his head on his shoulders instead of beside him at the bottom of the ocean,” Johnnie said, enjoying the hell out of his cigarette. “He came to me with his information.Igreenlit his call to Bash.”
The door opened and a tall, barrel-chested Black man stepped outside, but leaned against the door so it wouldn’t close. He held a metal detector wand.
Knowing what he did, Johnnie supposed the man’s strong resemblance to Mortician and Digger was expected. “Cleaner.”
Cleaner scowled. “Bash saw you on camera,” he grumbled, beckoning him over with the wand.
Still blocked by Stone, Johnnie nodded to Brooks.
“Unless he’s suddenly grown balls, I already know he’s unarmed,” Cleaner said, allowing Brooks entry without checking him or his briefcase. “This is for you.”
“Call your Chihuahua down and I’ll come to you,” Johnnie said, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it. “But I’m not giving up my gun.” Or his blade.
“Then you’re not seeing Bash,” Cleaner countered.
Johnnie laughed with genuine amusement. “You have at least forty members inside.”At the very least, if the parked bikes were any indication.“I’m not a superhero, able to extricate myself from such uneven odds.”
Stone reached for Johnnie’s cut.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Johnnie warned.
“Let him through, Stone,” Cleaner ordered.
