Page 20 of Property of Bull
Chapter 5
Bull
Christ.
With everything I’ve got rolling right now, I don’t have time to let this girl twist me up. And that’s exactly what she’s done.
Hopefully, she’ll never realize that I’m using her as an alibi tonight.
“You’re sure?” Rage asks me when I change up our plans.
“Yeah, I know you’re itching to check in on Sheriff Mills. You handle that and I’ll do the hand-off to Thunder,” I tell him, leaving out the part where I’m bringing Margo along. “Just be sure to—”
“Fuck off,” he laughs, whipping a motorcycle stress-ball at my head. “Like I don’t know to establish an alibi.”
“Watch that ego, man. It’ll trip your ass up.” I easily swat away the object. “Serious though, check in every thirty-six hours.”
“Will do. I’m going to catch some sleep before hitting the road.” He’s halfway out of the office door before turning back with a frown. “What’s your alibi for heading down to RC?”
“Gonna finally have dinner at Bokujo,” I tell him, looking down at some bills that need paying.
“Lucky bastard. Margo’s fucking fine,” he responds, closing the door before I can say, or throw, anything.
Bronco set out earlier today with the two prospects, and while Edge reached out to Carson, the kid gave some weak assed excuse about being stranded in Lead for the day. Doesn’t really matter, he’s done. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Once Frost gets the new burner from the prospects, he’ll get ahold of me but hopefully our half-assed plan comes to fruition and our package will be back here.
It’s been years since making a call like this bothered me, what little compassion I once had for women who came to be in this kind of predicament used to make me hesitate.
Until one of them shot me about a decade ago. If I had let that woman live, she’d have found a way to fuck up our operation—much like Alli would. That bitch knew the score from the moment she walked into the clubhouse, she chose her path.
*
When I pull up to Margo’s, Glenn’s youngest grandson is outside chopping wood. As big of a pain in my ass as he and his brother are, I can’t deny they’re hard workers.
“Hiya, Bull,” he waves the axe over his head in greeting.
I nod in reply, continuing on to the front porch when Margo comes barreling out.
“Come on, let’s go,” she says, slipping off the bottom step and into my arms, her arms grabbing mine as her feet find purchase again.
“Is your grandpa going to be calling the cops later?” I ask her.
“No, I left a note.”
“Hey,” I call out to the sole witness to Margo leaving with me willingly. “Throw some salt on the steps. We can’t have George falling, now, can we?”
“Yes, sir,” he immediately agrees, slamming the axe into the stump and running to do my bidding.
Fuck. Next thing, he’s going to want to be a prospect.
The drive goes pretty much as I expect. Margo immediately starts asking questions about the towns we drive past, trying to control the conversation.
Anything to avoid answering my earlier queries.
I’m hoping the sake will take the edge off. I won’t be drinking much tonight, nor getting laid. But with a little luck, it’ll loosen her up enough to consider being honest with me.
Shortly after we’re seated, I excuse myself but instead of hitting the head, I walk back out to the parking lot, turning at the sound of a low whistle.
