Bounty:Fury Riders MC(28)

Axel turned to me and shrugged. "That was easy."



Too easy, I thought. I had a bad feeling, even worse than the one I had  before we left the clubhouse. "Okay. You stay here. Watch for any  movement inside, call out if you see anything. Frankie, come with me."  The two of us crept around to the back of the house. Frankie pulled a  screwdriver from his back pocket and jimmied the lock.



"I like to be prepared," he whispered when he saw me looking at him in  surprise. I had to hold back a laugh, even with all the tension.



The house was small, just as shabby on the inside as it was on the  outside. Threadbare carpet, wallpaper with water stains running down  thanks to a leaky ceiling-the plumbing had to be busted. It reeked of  cigarettes, booze and body odor. And lots of takeout food. The tiny  kitchen table was covered in Chinese containers, stacked up on pizza  boxes. My stomach turned when I saw a cockroach crawling from one of the  containers, skittering across the top of the pile.



I glanced back at Frankie, who looked nauseated.



There was a loud noise coming from the next room. The TV. I pointed to  the doorway, and Frankie nodded. I walked over to it, my gun still  drawn, and peered out at the living room.



He was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Just like at the Wolves  warehouse, I got the feeling someone expected me. I turned back to  Frankie. "He's alone," I murmured." We left the kitchen, coming up  behind him. Even when I cleared my throat and pressed the muzzle of the  gun to the back of the guy's head, he didn't flinch.



"What took you so long?" he asked, laughing. I looked at Frankie, whose face was a mask of hatred.



"Check the upstairs," I muttered, and Frankie took off. While he was  checking for others, I turned off the TV. "Keep your hands where I can  see them," I ordered. He left them on his lap, one on each leg.



"It's clean," Frankie called out, bounding down the stairs. I motioned  to the man on the couch with my gun, which Frankie knew meant I wanted  him frisked. I stared into the guy's good eye, the one I hadn't punched  him in, while Frankie made sure he wasn't armed.         

     



 



"He's clean," Frankie said.



"Gun's on the end table," the Wolf said, like he was giving us  tomorrow's weather forecast. "You can take it. Whatever. I won't be able  to use it. I can't aim for shit right now with one good eye."



He was so relaxed, like none of this mattered. Was he waiting to die? I  couldn't understand the way any of these guys thought. Like they were  resigned to whatever happened. They would do literally anything for  their club. I never wanted my members to be that way. Loyalty was one  thing, but not when taken to extremes.



"Wait outside with Axel," I murmured to Frankie.



"You sure?" He looked skeptical.



"I'll be okay in here," I said.



Frankie looked once more at me, then at the man on the couch. He left.



"Alone at last," I said. "How's the face?"



"How's it look?"



"I'd say it was an improvement but, let's be serious, you didn't start out with too much."



He snickered. "We can't all be pretty boys like you." No, we couldn't,  but with a broken nose, busted mouth, one eye swollen shut and stitches  along one cheekbone, he was a farther cry than most.



I smiled at him. "What's your name?"



"What do you care?"



"Because I like to know the names of the people whose asses I kick."



His eyes flashed angrily at me-at least, the one that wasn't swollen shut. "Harrison," he spat.



"Okay, Harrison." I took a chair from the kitchenette and turned it  backward. I sat on it, my arms around the back. I was still pointing the  gun at him. "Here's what you're gonna do if you want to keep your  miserable life. You're gonna tell me what I wanna know. Otherwise, I  blow your fucking brains out."



"Yeah, right. You could have done it last night, but you didn't. Why would you do it now?"



"Because now I know who you killed last night before you chased the girl."



His good eye widened. "Bullshit."



"No, not bullshit. She took pictures, remember?"



"Yeah, but the camera was broken. It fell on the ground. I saw it."



I rolled my eyes. "Ever hear of a memory card? That's where the pictures go, dumbass."



"No! She told me the pictures were gone."



"Yeah, she told you that. Why wouldn't she? You had a fucking knife,  which you just killed somebody with." Then another thought occurred to  me. "If you believed the pictures were gone, why the fuck were you  standing over her with the knife in your hand when I found you? There  was no fucking reason to hurt her, then."



"No witnesses, man. That was what they told me before I went to meet with Lance."



My stomach turned. That sounded like something Alexander would say, even if the witness were a woman or a kid.



"Well, surprise. We saw the pictures. You're in them. So is Lance." I  saw him catch his breath like he was waiting for me to say something  else. Then he relaxed.



"So? Now you know your man was going behind your back." He sneered with his broken mouth. "How's it feel, knowing he did that?"



I clenched my jaw and willed myself to keep cool. He wanted me to lose  it, even if I ended up blowing his brains out in the end. It didn't  matter, as long as he had the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.



"Whatever. I thought he was dead already. Now he's definitely dead, and we can stop mourning him. So what?"



Harrison laughed. "You're so full of shit." He settled back into the  couch cushions, though he still kept his hands visible. "You know it's  the biggest insult possible when a member of your club turns on you. He  might as well have shit on your chest."



I wouldn't let him do it to me. He couldn't get into my head. "But he  knew he was doing the wrong thing in the end, didn't he? That's why you  stuck him."



"Eh, he was gonna go no matter what." He looked around the tiny, dingy  little house. "He lived here, you know. This is where he was hiding out  from you. You had no idea. Did you go to the funeral? I bet you did."



Fucker. It took everything I had inside to keep myself under control.  "What deal did you offer him?" I asked. "I'm tired of hearing your  voice, so let's get down to it. What was it all about?"



"What do you think?" He laughed bitterly. "Come on. You're supposed to  be so smart, aren't you? All the books you read. Could have been a  college boy if your old man didn't get his dumb ass killed. Might have  gotten a scholarship and been a doctor or some shit. Right?"



How the hell did he know so much about me? The question must have been  plain on my face because he answered it. "My boss makes it a point to  know things about people. You might be book smart, but he knows  everything about his enemies. It's why he's a better leader than you  are. Book smarts only get you so far."         

     



 



He was trying to chip away at me … and he was winning, as hard as I tried not to let him. I aimed my gun at his chest.



"You don't even have loyalty," he added. "Or else why would your guys jump ship so fast?" Your guys. Plural. I fucking knew it.



"Who's the other one?" My voice was hard now. "Tell me."



He laughed. "What's the point? It's too late now anyway."



"What do you mean?" The blood pumped faster in my veins when I realized what he was saying. "What did you do?"



"I didn't do anything. I was sitting right here, with you." He spread his hands and shrugged. "It wasn't me this time."



"Who? What's happening?"



"The Wolves have already won. Did you think Alexander didn't expect you  to come here? You think he didn't wanna make it obvious that I was here?  Three guards. Give me a break. I didn't need three guards. But he  wanted to be sure you knew he was storing me here."



I stood and kicked the chair over. "And he left you to die, motherfucker. Who's the joke in this?"



He shrugged. "Doesn't matter if I die. As long as I know you assholes are finished. I hate all of you."



I leaned in, pressing the gun to his forehead and screaming in his face. "Tell me! Who is it? What did they do?"



He was terrified, his breath coming in short little gasps, but he didn't  answer. He only laughed. He had to be insane. Maybe that was how  Alexander made sure his members were faithful to him. They were too  crazy to go against him. Like a fucking cult.



"It's too late. It wouldn't even matter if I told you. It's in motion."



I roared in rage, wishing I had it in me to blow the fucker's brains  out. I pistol whipped him instead, hitting him in the temple with the  butt of the gun. He fell over, unconscious.