Bad Boys of Romance(178)

“If you don’t help me, I’ll go to the cops. Tell them about your plans to off this Amun guy.”

Tightening my fist before I relaxed it, I slapped her square in her proud jaw. Spitting blood, she howled, cradling her chin. Emery cowed before me, shocked. I laughed. I was being nice; I should have whooped her up one side and down the other. Women outside of the club were all the same, all surprised and shit when you backhanded them. They never knew what they were getting into fooling with the likes of me, thinking I was a normal man, a good man. Deep down, they always thought I was a good man, but they were dead wrong. “Really, you want to die? I don’t think you could take the pain, honey.”

Emery wiped at her bloody lip and the tears forming in her eyes again. “That’s why I want to hire you. I want it to be quick and painless, and I don’t want to know when it’s coming. I just want it to be… successful. Fifty thousand, it’s all I have and it’s all yours.”

It was as if she could see into my mind and knew exactly how much more I needed. With the help of the Miami Mutherfukers, I’d taken over Bob’s Shark Bait Bar as Johnny Stevens. The real Johnny Stevens, a loner, died before his old man died and left him the bar. The Mutherfukers knew that because they’d killed them both. I’d cashed in a favor for intel and got one better. Johnny and I, we’d looked enough alike, so I’d assumed his identity for this gig and no one was the wiser. All this time, I’ve been watching Amun, coming up with my plan. You couldn’t kill someone like him without a plan, and I didn’t plan to leave a trail. Killing Harrow Amun would pay fifty grand. It wasn’t nearly enough for the risk, but I was desperate. Besides, I owed Shirley a favor. Amun was a son of a bitch, small potatoes mob boss who pissed off the wrong woman. Shirley was too smart to kill him herself and bring heat onto her own. He deserved to die and the world would thank me for it, but after all that, I’d still need another fifty grand to pay off the Sons of Satan.

A hundred grand and the SOS would finally give in. I’d tried everything else, lost brothers fighting and burned too many bridges to count. A Nomad, one of the most distinguished titles in the Asphalt Gods MC, I was nothing but a killer now, dispensed whenever the Gods needed to clean up a mess. Truth was my brothers had grown tired of fighting my battle and didn’t want me around. I always seemed to be the last one picked for anything. I was starting to feel like the God’s little fat kid. Tired of it, I decided to go off on my own. If the General wasn’t my adopted daddy, they’d stripped me long ago. If they knew I made a deal with the devil himself, the President of the Sons of Satan, they’d shred me of my Nomad status right quick, no matter what the General said. He’d skin me of my ink himself and piss on my hide.

Her words echoed in my head. “Fifty thousand, it’s all I have and it’s all yours.” When I didn’t answer her, she went on. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Where’s the money?”

She talked quick, desperation shaking her voice. “Safe. I’ll tell you everything you need to know to retrieve it.”

“So, you go missing, dead, and I go looking for your money, no thanks sweetheart. What is this, some sort of set up?” As I said it out loud, it all sunk in. This could be a fucking set up, and I’d almost been taken down by a set of tits.

“I can get it for you today,” She insisted.

“And why would a pretty thing like you want to die so bad?”

“That’s none of your business.”

I slipped my balisong from my pocket, flipping it open. “Sweetheart, I am a killer. You’re right about me. But I don’t need your money,” I lied, just in case something was afoot here. This pretty thing ends up in my bed, begging me to kill her for the exact amount I need to get what I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. She was the fucking pot at the end of the goddamn rainbow of shit that’s been my life. It just didn’t sit right with me. My luck had never been so good. She could be a plant, ATF or another Fed. Someone sent from the Miami Mutherfukers, they knew where I was or maybe they alerted the SOS, fuck, even my own brothers.

She blinked, letting another tear fall and for a second I thought I saw real fear in her eyes. A pretty face and a smoking body wouldn’t fool me. “Money, it’s all I have,” she whispered, almost dropping the sheet.

I looked at her sideways, wondering if I could believe a word that came out of her mouth. Crocodile tears, I told myself as she dabbed her wet eyes again. Putting my hand on her knee, I had to shake her up and get the truth. “Last night, cleaning you up, I saw all you have to offer. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take your money but that’s not enough.” She squinted, her face unsure, not yet realizing what I meant. “Maybe I want to have some fun first, like we were about to last night. Then I’ll kill you on my own terms.” I grinned like a jackass eating cactus, as if I liked the thought of killing her. “So until then, sugar, you do as I say. Anything, I say.”