Page 5 of Bounty
Worry wreathed his features. He had a long neck with a prominent Adam’s apple and a long, sharp nose. Hence, Goose.
I glanced from him to Drifter, a reflection of myself right down to the long brown hair, dark eyes, and neat beard. “You sure you don’t want to ride with me? Don’t want those assholes to mistake you for me.”
“By the time you come back, we should have a solution,” Drifter swore.
My brows raised. “No shit?”
Dad leaned in. “It isn’t guaranteed, but Riker is going to talk to Satan’s Sinners’ leadership.”
“And he’s taking Drifter?” I gaped between Dad and Drifter.
“We don’t have the same fucking rockers.”
Assuming a motherfucker took the goddamn time to read our patches. I’d stolen a quarter rock worth of their drugs and made them look like fucking assholes. A cardinal sin, considering the street value. They’d see onlymy face, shoot, and not give a good fuck they’d fucked up my twin instead of me.
“We have the same goddamn face.”
Unconcerned, Drifter shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
Asshole sounded as if he didn’t give a fuck. Ever since his old lady OD’d, I believed he had a death wish. I scowled at him, because even if he was sick of being among the living,Ididn’t want to bury my brother.
Sliding off the stool, Drifter drained his beer, set the mug on the bar top, and raised his hand. “Save it, Slice.”
Other than Daria and sweet little Effie, Dad and Drifter were the only ones who honored my wishes to call me by my preferred road name. Though Oklahoma City was my home chapter where I shared enforcer duties, I was a national special enforcer. I was a crack shot, but I handled knives even better, so Dad and Riker sent me out to slice motherfuckers.
Whywouldn’tI have that name?
Of course, they dare not call me that around Riker since he shot my request down for his own goddamn amusement. He enjoyed my fucking discomfort.
My phone beeped with an incoming text message. Daria or Lennon I supposed. She was usually a bundle of energy. Now, she was a ball of nerves, concerned I’d disappoint her and thus her readers after I explained I had work-related issues. Didn’t bother telling her a bozo was gunning for me. I’m not sure it would’ve mattered, but I’d opened a can of worms, and they all annoyed the fuck out of me. As Lennon explained, I’d just added to Daria’s stress. Two fucking hours ago, I assured her I’d attend, so I couldn’t imagine what they wanted now. They’d been calling and texting all fucking day.
I read the message. It took me a moment to realize Effie sent it. Other than an odd video chat here and there, I usually kept in contact with her on the Gram. It was easier. Although she rarely used it nowadays, giving her my cell phone number was a mistake. I suppose she skipped our DMs because I hadn’t responded to her in days.
Our messaging had gotten uncomfortablycomfortable. When I realized how much I looked forward to communicating with her, I pulled back. It also helped that I was laying low and trying to save my fucking ass. Meaning I didn’t have time for a pretty girl full of sass and not enough sense to stay away from me.
A hundred-thousand-dollar bounty was no fucking joke. Motherfuckers would hand me over for a quarter the amount.
A moment later, another message came through.
Daria: Some of my readers won a contest to dine with me. Please come and make their nights. I’llthrow an extra five hundred in as payment.
Technically, she was my boss, though I preferred to think that we teamed up. But she paid for my lodging, my food, and my transportation, (in this case the cost of fuel for my ride). She was also responsible for my behavior at the events. Ishould’veaccepted her invitation to the dinner. It was the smart thing to do.
Effie, with her sun-kissed elfin face, her wealth of dark hair, and sweet voice, had fucking trouble written all over her cute little ass.
Sometimesliterally.
She’d sent me a photo of her in sleep shorts with the word ‘trouble’ embroidered in hot pink letters on the material covering her backside. Once or twice, I jerked off to that image before coming to my senses and deleting it. My mind flip-flopped between Effie and Daria for several minutes. Soon, I’d be at Daria’s beck and call. She’d held the contest without my input; therefore, I didn’t have an obligation to fulfill.
That decided me. Effie asked first. Besides, I’d much rather have fun with her.
Because, fuck, who ever said I was smart?
One doesn’t appreciate how far one end of Texas is from the other end until you traverse it. The 28thstate of the Union is a behemoth, and driving from Corpus Christi, where I’d lived all my life, to Austin normally took five hours. Thanks to traffic, the drive was longer than expected. My mother insisted we could reach our destination without a single stop, if we fueled upbeforehand and packed some snacks. She was right, but when we finally arrived at the hotel, my bladder was screaming for relief, and my legs needed stretching.
Unfortunately, a problem arose with our reservation, which further delayed our check-in. My mother insisted I stay with her because she had it in her head that our room required facial recognition, fingerprint scanning, or both. She swore I’d have to validate my own credentials for access.
A huge banner welcoming the attending authors for Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem stood near the registration desk. Mom’s name was listed as a sponsor and I grinned, so proud of her.
