Chapter Eighteen
The clash of aluminum cans and bottles hitting the floor reverberated around the room as Shark kicked over a table.
“Where the fuck’s my phone?” he boomed then smacked Tikka’s ass hard.
“Ow!” she cried out and pushed herself up from the couch. “What are you yelling about?”
“My goddamn phone. Go find it,” he growled as he staggered over to the small bar against the back wall. A curtain of flies hung in the air in the corner of the room. Shark went over then yelled out, “You and Pinkie clean this fuckin’ barf off the floor.”
“Red Dog kept upchucking,” Tikka grumbled.
Shark turned around, anger shooting through him. “What the fuck did you say? You disrespecting a brother?”
Tikka’s eyes widened and she jammed her hands under her armpits. “No, I wasn’t. If it sounded that way, I’m sorry.”
“You better be, otherwise you’ll be cleaning it with your fuckin’ tongue.” Shark headed back toward the bar. “And where the hell’s Pinkie?”
“Right here,” she said, rising from the floor. “I must’ve passed out at the party.”
Shark ran his gaze over her tangled hair and naked body. “Help Tikka clean that shit up, then I want you on your knees in front of me.”
When he got to the bar a shot of Jack waited for him, but he shoved it away. “Gimme a shot of tequila,” he said to the prospect. “Is my phone around here?”
Rash shook his head as he poured the liquor.
“I found it!” Tikka shouted.
“Then bring it the fuck over here, stupid.”
Tikka’s face fell, and she bent over to pick up her clothes.
“I told you to bring it to me, now! I want you naked when you’re cleaning up Red Dog’s puke.” He laughed then threw back his drink.
Tikka dropped the clothes and rushed over and gave him the cell then just stood there looking at him.
“What the fuck?” Shark said, looking down at the screen.
“Don’t I get a kiss or something?” Tikka blinked rapidly.
Shark’s gaze snapped to her face and he pulled her toward him and slammed his mouth on hers. She moaned then jerked back and cried out when he bit her bottom lip hard. He guffawed as he spun her around and smacked her ass again, then pushed her forward. “Get cleaning, slut.”
“I’m still so damn wasted,” Noe said as he walked into the small room and plopped down on a chair. “I forgot how crazy the parties get around here.”
“Did Cheetah and Vi treat you right?” Shark moved away from the bar and sat down on a chair across from Noe. He handed his friend a cup of coffee.
“Oh yeah. They’re hot as hell. I may have to stay one more night before I head back to Phoenix.” Noe brought the mug to his mouth.
“I got four damn calls from Blueman. Who the fuck calls at two in the damn morning? Doesn’t he know we’re all too damn drunk and high to hear anything?”
Noe laughed. “He needs to come to a biker party.” He put the coffee down. “Have you talked to Mia?”
“No. Forget about her, bro. She’s a cunt. She always thought she was better than us. That’s why Ma was always beating her snobby ass.”
“She can be a bitch, but she’s still your sister. Talk to her.”
“All she wants to talk about is Finn. I’m bored with it. I hope the asshole rots in prison. She wants me to give money to help him get an attorney. Fuck that! I’m not giving shit.”
“Yeah, she was talking about the fucker to me too. She’s kinda obsessed with it.”
“She’s a snotty bitch. You can do better.”
“I thought you were all for it,” Noe said.
“I was, but then when you told me the way she dissed you when you were in Durango a few weeks ago, it pissed me off. You don’t need some cunt treating you like that.”
“If we’re together, I’ll teach her who’s boss.”
“She needs a good thrashing,” he said, placing the phone against his ear. Gesturing Noe to be quiet, Shark lightly tapped the table with his finger as he waited for Blueman to pick up.
“Why the fuck didn’t you pick up the phone?” the gang leader asked.
“Why the fuck did you call me at two in the goddamn morning? I don’t hear shit when I’m partying hard, and that’s what me and the brothers did last night. Whaddya want?”
“Confirm our meet up next week.”
“Yeah … about that—I need to postpone it.” Silence crackled between them. “Did ya hear me?”
“I heard. Do you have the money?” Blueman’s voice was cold with a sharp edge to it.
“That’s why I need the continuance. We’ve almost got it all but just need a bit more time to get the rest.”
“I heard you fucked up the attack on the Night Rebels’ businesses. What the hell were you thinking in sending two-bit dealers and pimpled-faced teens to do your job? I don’t have too much confidence you’re gonna pull this buy off.”
Anger rushed through Shark. “We’ll pull it off just fine, and what we did in Alina doesn’t concern you. We got our own score to settle with those fuckers. It had nothing to do with getting money.”
“Even so … you fucked it up.”
Shark gripped the side of the table with his hand so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted to tell this smug punk what he really thought of him, but Shark needed to keep cool because the Satan’s Pistons needed the drugs to double or maybe even triple their investment. They needed to get back on their feet, then they wouldn’t have to send out amateurs to destroy the damn Rebels—they’d do it themselves.
“We’ll have the money in a month.”
“Three weeks or the deal’s off,” Blueman answered.
“Okay, but cut the attitude. You’re not working with a bunch of losers here. I know the score—you need our money. I checked you out. Your club is near broke after that sting operation took down some of the heavy players and the feds took away your assets, so don’t act like gangster-of-the-year with me.”
Noe guffawed, and Shark and he bumped fists. Another long pause. For a few seconds, Shark cursed himself for losing his temper and blowing the deal.
“Maybe your check should extend to your family as well.”
“Are you telling me I’ve got a fuckin’ traitor in the brotherhood?”
“Your blood family. I’ve had one of my men watching your sister, Mia Decelles—a.k.a. Stiletto.”
Confusion spread through him. “What the fuck does she have to do with any of this?”
“It’s what I do. It’s good to know about the people I’m dealing with, even their family members. It gives me some insurance, you know?”
“Leave her the fuck alone. She’s not a part of this.”
“You don’t fuck me over, and I won’t need to do anything.”
“I’m telling you again—leave her the fuck outta this.”
The clucking of Blueman’s tongue irked the shit out of Shark. Then in a very steady, cold, and low voice, he asked, “Do you know your baby sister is sleeping with the enemy?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he growled.
“A Night Rebel is filling her holes.”
Now it was Shark’s turn to grow silent. As Blueman’s words began to sink in, adrenaline pushed through him as white-hot rage filled his veins. “You’re fuckin’ wrong. If you want this sale to go through, you’ll shut your lying motherfuckin’ mouth!” Shark’s voice grew louder and louder with each word until he was shouting.
“I’m just telling it like it is. Why the fuck would I lie about it?” Blueman asked, his voice cool as ice.
“Just shut the fuck up about it. We’re doing a business transaction and that’s all. It doesn’t involve my family. You still in, or do I take my business to Los Malos?” Shark’s nostrils flared.
“You got exactly three weeks. Eleven p. m. at the warehouse. I sent you the address,” Blueman replied.
“We’ll be there, and you and me don’t need to talk no more.” Shark cut the call then tapped in Mia’s number. On the second ring, he hung up then paced around in circles trying to understand what Blueman’s game was.
“Man, you’re pissed off. What the fuck did Blueman say to you?” Noe asked.
Shark stopped in his tracks and looked at Noe. “When you saw that dude with Mia at the gym, was he wearing a cut?”
Noe jerked his head back. “No. Why?”
“Did you see a Harley in front, or in the parking lot of the gym that night?”
Noe shook his head. “What’s this all about?”
“Blue-asshole-man told me Mia’s fucking a Night Rebel. Did you see any MC tats on the guy?”
Noe’s eyes widened. “No damn way. Mia wouldn’t do that. The dude with her looked like a fighter. He definitely wasn’t wearing a Night Rebels patch tatted on his back. He looked like he could be a biker or a rocker.”
“What was his name?”
“Uh … something military-sounding.”
“Who’d she say he was again?”
“A brother of one of her friends who was an MMA fighter. I still can’t believe that about Mia. This asshole’s trying to get you riled up.”
Shark scrubbed his three-day-old unshaven face. “But why? What’s the point in pissing me off? And why the fuck would he make up that BS about Mia? Something isn’t making sense here. He knows she’s my sister, so he’s not bullshitting about someone keeping tabs on her. Fuck!” He picked up his empty shot glass and hurled it across the room where it hit the front of a steel cabinet and crashed to the floor.
“Just ask Mia.”
“Yeah. I’ll give her a call later on, and if I find out it’s true, the fucking Rebel is dead. I’ll show Mia what happens to bitches who disrespect me and the brotherhood.” Shark kicked the chair over.
“If she’s guilty, I’m with you all the way, brother. I just remembered the fucker’s name: Army.”
Shark made a mental note of it, then yelled over for Tikka and Pinkie to come and relieve the tension from his body.