“Fuck. No wonder the poor bastard shot his brains out,” Skin growled.
“Atlanta Torches' mob ties run deep,” I said slowly, wheels turning, tying all the dirty strands together in my head. “They wouldn't even need to ride up here themselves to fuck him over. They could get the Cubans or the Irish to slip into town and do it for 'em without us noticing. Fuckers got deep roots going all the way down the Gulf coast, old ties they still keep greased, despite their dicks being trimmed back to Atlanta.”
Dust nodded. “They're the only holdouts in Georgia the Deads haven't slaughtered. That's why both our clubs decided to stop shooting at each other years ago and work on killing the Deads instead.”
“So what did they want?” Skin asked, running a hand through his thick brown hair.
Prez snorted. “Everything, Skinny boy. Torches would've taken his life, his daughter, and anything worth selling. I'm sure the fucker was damned near broke before he died, with nothing but a police pension paying the bills. They'd have doubled down on the girl for sure. Would've made her earn every fuckin' penny if she'd fallen into their paws.”
I pushed a growl down my throat before it could come out. The thought of anybody putting a bag over Cora's head and carting her off to the highest bidder made my fists hungry.
Wanted to smash them into the nearest punching bag 'til I put my hands straight through and spat sawdust all over the damned place.
Finally, shit was starting to make some sense. Too bad it only pissed me off more.
“So, how bad are we fucked when they find out your old drinking buddy's dead, and we're hiding his daughter, Prez?” Typical Skin. The man asked all the right questions, and then he never fucking quit.#p#分页标题#e#
“About as fucked as you're gonna be if we don't stop worrying about shit that hasn't happened yet,” I snapped. “We can handle their pissant joke of a club any day.”
“They've got more boys to field than we do,” Joker said. His expression lit up like he enjoyed us being outnumbered – more men for the sick puppy to kill.
“You think I don't know that? We kicked the Deads square in the nuts last year, and they're a whole lot bigger than either of us! We can deal. We always find a way.”
“Enough.” Dust's gavel slapped the wood, banging hard like a gunshot. “We're not fighting the Torches. We're making sure Cora's safe and happy. I'm not planning on locking us into any either-or shit.”
Everybody looked at him like he'd just told us we were all getting a year's supply of free booze and supermodel pussy.
“You wanna elaborate?” I asked, edging on disrespect.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Fuck if I didn't want to hit something right now – almost as bad as I wanted to march back to my room and get that girl who'd caused this mess naked, wet, and grinding on my dick.
“You heard me. We'll make it work. Keep her on the down low. The Torches'll be so pissed when they find out Jimmy died before they could get a piece, chances are they won't even worry about his daughter.”
“What about her?” I asked, wondering who the fuck was saying those words.
Pussy hadn't ever been my concern before, except how quick it would take me to get up inside it. Something about Cora's case hit me deep, plunged into me like a fucking knife, and twisted itself around 'til I had to ask about shit I'd have never bothered with before.
“We'll keep her close. Give the girl something to do,” Dust said, leaning forward and blowing out a long trail of smoke.
That strong, southern shit he smoked could've burned down half of Dixie. Instead, it was trapped in the room with us, reminding us who was boss – even when he went fucking crazy.
“Already got a few ideas,” Skin said with a nod. “Talked to my old lady earlier. Why don't we get her a job at the new joint? Meg's going crazy managing all the dumb bitches there. She'd kill for another chick who's had some college and has her head screwed on straight.”
I wanted to laugh in his fucking face. That little girl stuffed up in my room probably hadn't thought much about fucking outside the dirty books chicks like her always read.
She'd already gotten fucked outta her teaching job. Sure, she'd jump at the chance to work in a damned strip club, managing a buncha skanks who rode half the guys wearing our patch for extra tips, right? Shit, I'd fucked a few of 'em myself.
Yeah, I thought, about the same chance as you sobering your ass up, hanging up the cut, and becoming a monk.
“Something else,” I said, locking eyes with the Treasurer. “She's a good girl. No fuckin' way am I gonna tell her she's got a great new job picking out thongs and selling drinks to guys who try to jack off in their seats.”