Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(99)

He went off like a fucking idiot. Pulled his nine out and aimed it at the sky, shooting it like the drunken cowboy he'd become.

“I'm rich, rich, crazy fucking rich! Jesus, I wish those motherfuckers in cell block G could see me now! Can't wait 'til Fang hears all about this. Fucking shit, this club's never gonna need an honest day of work again.”

The younger guys behind us laughed. Guilt shot through my chest like a heavy stone as I stared at the money. Before we'd taken this trip, I was ready to risk anything for cash, whatever it took to give my family a more comfortable life.

This dirty fucking money had almost gotten them killed instead.

No, correction, the asshole shouting his lungs out and taking withering glances from the mobsters still climbing into their cars had almost put our women and kids in the ground.

I smiled so big I had to make sure I wasn't about to bite my fucking tongue off. Frig jumped when my hand slapped his shoulder. Squeezed 'til I felt bone – it didn't take much.

“You're a happy man today. What do you say we get ourselves a drink and bury the hatchet? We'll need brothers on good terms to guard all this loot.”

“Ha, yeah, if you're talking about my money, Blacky.” Frig shot me the evil eye, but he didn't turn away. “Aw, fuck, why not. I'll round up all the brothers and find us a bar.”

“No!” Wheeler stepped up, his big tattooed arms folded across his chest. “This oughta be between full patch brothers who need to smooth shit over. Right now, that's you, me, and Blackjack. We've got booze we picked up in Vegas. The desert's a much cooler place to crash than some dirty bar where the Scorps could sneak up and kick us in the balls. No damned good for a celebration.”

“When the fuck did you grow a brain?” Frig turned to me and winked. “You could learn a thing or two from Wheeler. Think he's gonna make a fine treasurer someday when we get our asses home.”

The only boy here who's about to do any learning is you.

I just smiled and nodded, watching as Frig stepped up in front of the crew, cupping his hands over his mouth. “You heard the man, boys, so listen up! I want all that shit locked up and going home to Vegas. We'll do a layover for one night, and only one night. That's all I can spare when we're hauling these many stacks. Fang's gonna want this shit in California pronto.”

The small gaggle of prospects and brothers nodded. Frig thumped his chest, letting his power go to his fucked up skull.

“You boys ride on ahead. We'll catch up to you in a couple hours. If the Scorps show up for a rematch, hit me on the radio. Doubt they'll have the balls with these fucking Feds combing around, trying to track 'em down after finding their guys smeared all over the goddamned pavement.”

My hand grazed the switchblade near my belt. Perfect, just fucking perfect.

Wheeler and I shared a look. If we pulled this off, we'd definitely have holy heaven on our side.

And I'd do whatever it took to make sure my woman didn't have to wear angel wings.

I'd sinned enough, and I was bound to the club. Lizzie wasn't suffering a single fucking second after today for my mistakes.



“What's the fucking hold up?” I saw Frig coming over the horizon, stubbing out the smoke he'd just had, shooting the shit with Wheeler.

I'd gotten the hell away from his bike just in time. One second after I'd modified the brakes.

“Nothing at all, brother,” I said with a smile. “Just thinking about the perfect spot for boozing. There's some great fucking views off in those hills, just a short ride through the rocks.”

Frig took a long look at the jagged path where I was pointing. He snorted, then shook his head.

“You trying to kill me? How the fuck you think we're gonna handle that shit if we're riding back before we're sober?”

“Aw, shit, you're right.” My voice kept an eerie calm, even though every muscle in my body turned to lead. “Let's find something else. Wouldn't want you taking a spill and fucking anything up.”

His smartass stare turned into a death glare. “Wait a fucking minute, Blackjackass, are you saying I don't know how to ride?”

“You're fucking crazy, brother. That's not what I'm saying at all.”

No, you really are a psycho, asshole, I thought, throwing my hands in front of my chest.

“Nah, asshole, I think it is. You're saying I can't ride and hold my fuckin' booze.”

“Brothers, come the fuck on.” Wheeler stepped between us, a big grin on his face. “If we're gonna hash some shit out with fists, why do it sober? I've got three solid bottles of Jack in my saddlebag, and those hills are calling for Grizzlies blood.”

Frig stopped, and I kept one eye glued to his fist, ready to finish him here if it came to it.