Page 8 of Thor
I pouted and reached up to touch my thumb against a small scar above his dark blond eyebrow. I’d asked him how he’d hurt himself once, but he’d brushed off the question. He did that a lot when he didn’t want to answer me. “That’s no fun.”
He laughed, knocking my hand away, and glanced over his shoulder as if he expected Odin to be right there to lecture him on flirting with me. I huffed and turned to get his favorite kind of whiskey—American, Arrogant Bastard brand. Once I’d poured two fingers in a glass, I passed it to him.
“Are you trying to figure out the Souls issue?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the wooden bar again.
He nodded, taking a deep swallow of the whiskey and wincing at the burn. “Yeah, figuring out who knew what, and who could have given us up.”
“Sometimes the most obvious person is the answer,” I said, remembering Costello and my distaste for the man. He always wanted to be part of the in crowd, and he’d been invited to Lords’ parties before. He’d fucked the cut sluts and drunk our beer, but he was as wriggly as a rattlesnake as far as I was concerned, and probably as dangerous as one, too.
Thor sighed, carding his fingers through his hair and making a delicious mess of it. “We can’t act until we have proof. Costello’s gotten us a good deal for drugs and alcohol coming out of Russia. We can’t poke a sleeping dragon unless we have something to fight him with.”
“Why do we need him anyway? We have the Reyes Cartel, right? We can make a deal with them. They have farms and shit for Coke. I’m sure they know guys for the other drugs like the MDMA.” I shrugged and stole his whiskey, taking a sip.
“Because it’s not that easy. The Reyes Cartel is working with the bratva, and Odin doesn’t want to get involved with them. We made a deal with Reyes to distribute their drugs around certain parts of the West Coast, but we can’t take them on as suppliers. Coke doesn’t fulfill everyone’s needs, either.” Thor finished off the drink and slammed the glass on the bar. I refilled it, enthralled by the amber liquid that sloshed against the sides of the tumbler. “And Costello gets us more than drugs. He gets us guns, top shelf alcohol for cheap, and other weapons, too, including your grenades. This is something we can’t fuck up.”
He had a point. As much as I hated Costello, he was a great supplier. Commotion to my right dragged my attention away from Thor, and I focused on Damian again, crowded against the bar by Rig. Damian’s back was pressed into the wood, jaw tight, as Rig had his arms on either side of him, his face close to Damian’s.
Rig was a mean motherfucker with a brunet mohawk and a raggedy beard. He had the face of a bear, rough and hairy with big eyes and a square jaw, and he often used his appearance to intimidate people. It didn’t work with Damian, since he couldn’t see a damn thing.
I moved on an instinct, storming down the bar and slamming the heel of my palm on top of Rig’s hand. He howled, jumped back, and glared at me.
“What the fuck, you crazy fucker?” he yelled, earning a few looks from the brothers and sisters around us.
I pointed at him. “Leave him the fuck alone, Rig.”
He laughed, running his hand over his mohawk. His eyes twinkled in wicked amusement and his full mouth curved into a half smirk. “Or what? Whore and I were just talking.”
I gritted my teeth, fingers curling against my palm and leaving nail prints in my skin as I resisted the urge to jump over the bar and smash my fist into his rough face. “Hoor. Ho-er. Say his name therightway.”
Rig cackled and glanced at a couple of his good buddies, who joined in with him. When Damian was a prospect and needed to choose his road name, he didn’t know a damn thing about Norse gods. Rig, beingeverso helpful, told him about Hoor, the blind son of Odin. Damian had accepted the name without questioning him. I hadn’t been there at the time to stop it, and instead of becoming who he should have—Hodur—Damian was known as Hoor. Damian rode with it, unwilling to show weakness, and I couldn’t be prouder of him, though I still wanted to destroy Rig’s ugly face.
He held up his hands to me and rocked on his feet, laughing. “Whatever. I’ll leave him alone if you get me a drink. Make it a whiskey like our friend Thor’s havin’.”
I breathed in deeply and grabbed Damian’s shoulder, but he shook his head to tell me he was okay. I spun and headed to Thor’s end of the bar again to pour Rig a drink. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, but he had his attention on his friends as they made their way to a table to sit down, laughing and making rude gestures I thought were meant to be insulting to Damian.
I’d had enough of that arrogant fucker. He’d live to regret messing with my brother. Crouching, I reached for a bottle of laxatives we kept with some other pills we used when we needed to fuck with people who overstayed their welcome. I rose again, and making sure Rig wasn’t watching, I dumped about ten into his whiskey. They dissolved in the amber liquid. The whiskey was discolored slightly, but Rig was too dumb to notice. He didn’t focus on that sort of stuff. If it was alcohol, he’d swig it.
Thor raised his eyebrows at me, smirking. “Is that what I think it is?”
“No.” I leered at him and chuckled quietly, giving the drink an extra swirl before I headed over to Rig’s table and passed him the glass. He took it, saluted me, and then swallowed half of thefuck youcocktail with a cringe.
“That tastes like shit.” His lips twisted and he threw Thor a disgusted glance. “How can you drink this trash?” The flavor didn’t stop him from throwing back the rest, though.
I pressed my lips together, forcing back the smile that threatened to break loose, and strode back to the bar, but instead of going behind it, I went to sit on the stool next to Thor. Nudging him with my elbow, I threw a look at Rig, who was making a weird face, upper lip curling.
“How fast do you think it’ll take for him to feel it?” I asked quietly. “It says half an hour on the bottle.”
Thor snorted and ran the back of his hand over his mouth after he took another sip of his whiskey. “Looks like he’s already starting to get the effects of it. How many did you give him?”
I laughed and leaned against him, pressing my forehead to his shoulder as my body shook from my amusement. I didn’t want Rig to see my face because then he’d suspect something and all hell would break loose. This wasn’t the first time I’d done something to another brother for pissing me off, and it wouldn’t be the last. I wasn’t the kind of guy who let someone push me around, another Lord or not. Hell, if it wasn’t a Lord, there was a lot more permanent damage.
I shot another glance at Rig, and he was leaning over the table, his legs crossed awkwardly as his face twisted into a painful grimace, and my laughter grew louder. I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Thor shook his head, his light blue eyes glinting with humor, and poked me. “You’re making it obvious. He’s going to try to kill you when he finds out what you did. You know that, right?”
I smirked. “I can’t wait for him to try.”
He chuckled and took another big gulp of his drink just as Rig flew to his feet, nearly tripping over a couple of the guys and girls while he rushed past them toward the bathroom. I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore and it tore out of me until my stomach hurt and I’d nearly fallen off the chair. A few of the brothers looked at me and shook their heads, grinning. They knew I’d done something.
