Page 3 of Raze
“You think you’re cute, kid?” His voice is low, rough, like gravel dragged over iron. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I’m not sure if it’s the threat or something else. “You’re holding our shit. That’s a death wish. But you already know that, right?”
I force my grin wider, even though my heart’s hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
“Yourshit? Man, I’m just the delivery boy. Didn’t know I was stepping on any toes.” I tilt my head, letting my hair fall into my eyes, playing up the innocent act. “How about we talk this out? No need to get messy.”
His eyes narrow, and his fingers tighten on my shoulder, just shy of painful.
The other bikers circle closer, cutting off any chance of bolting. I can feel their stares, like wolves sizing up a meal. The guy with the crowbar taps it against his palm, smirking, and another one—a beefy dude with dark hair I hear being called Tank—cracks his knuckles. They’re waiting for a signal, and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna come from the guy whose hand is still on me.
“You got a name, delivery boy?” he asks, his voice dripping with menace.
“Nico,” I say, keeping my tone light, like we’re just two guys chatting at a bar. “And you are…?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me like he’s peeling back my skin, looking for the truth underneath.
I keep my grin in place, but it’s starting to feel like a mask.
I’ve talked my way out of a lot—angry dealers, jealous exes, cops with too much time on their hands—but this? This might be the one time I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
His glare says I’m already dead, and as he leans in, his face inches from mine, I smell leather, smoke, and something sharp, like danger itself.
“You made a big mistake, boy,” he growls, and the wordboyhits me like a punch, low and hot. “Well, Nico. My name’s Raze. And we’re going to be getting to know one another very well indeed. And that’s about as far from a request as you can get…”
I swallow hard, my smirk faltering.
Yeah, I might’ve fucked up. Big time.
Chapter 2
Raze
“Yo, Tank, what are you thinking?” I grumble, my mind focused on the task ahead, and my fists ready to do the talking too if it comes to that.
“I’m thinking some stupid assholes fucked with the wrong crew,” Tank laughs. “Same shit, different day. All I know is that I want to get this wrapped up so we can be back at the clubhouse in time for the playoffs…”
“Typical,” Kash laughs. “But… yeah… the playoffs would be pretty damn sweet. I think this could be our year.”
“Since when have you two been football fans?” I laugh. “You can talk about the playoffs as much as you want. But what I’m really hearing is that you two sonsofbitches want to get back home and see if any hot new boys are in town.”
The three of us laugh. But it’s time to get our minds off boys now and focus on task in hand…
I’m Raze, enforcer for the Wolf Riders MC, and revenge is my religion.
The word came down from Clay, our president, two days ago: someone’s been hitting our shipments, stealing goods we fought and bled for. Electronics, weapons, cash—doesn’t matter what.
You don’t cross the Wolf Riders and walk away clean.
My job’s simple: find the bastards, make them pay, and send a message that echoes through every back alley and dive bar in this town.
I don’t ask questions. I don’t hesitate. I get it done.
That’s why Clay trusts me, why the club counts on me to keep our name feared and our territory ironclad. This is Wolf Rider country, and any lowlife scumbag who thinks otherwise is operating on borrowed time as far as we’re concerned.
Tonight, I’m rolling with some Riders including Tank and Kash, two rock-solid brothers I’d trust with my life. Tank’s a mountain of a man, dark hair, knuckles scarred from too many fights. Kash is leaner, meaner, silver-haired with a scar across his cheek and eyes that don’t miss a thing.
The Wolf Riders MC is a bond for life, forged in blood and loyalty.
I’d risk it all for these guys, and they’d do the same for me.
