of shit Riley hadn’t taken his eyes off Tinker all night. I wanted to drag his ass out behind the bar, rip off his dick, and shove it down his throat.
Instead, I got to sit at a table with Marsh while his sister crawled all over me like a perverted monkey. This wouldn’t be great under the best of circumstances, but to make things even more fun, Marsh was tweaking again, and paranoid as fuck. He wasn’t a full-on meth head, or at least I hadn’t thought so when I first arrived. Now I wasn’t so sure—not exactly the most comforting of dynamics. Two nights ago he’d lost his shit, and beat the hell out of some kid who’d tripped and spilled his beer at the clubhouse. Nearly killed him.
Tinker was dancing right up to the stage, eye-fucking the guitar player while her girls cheered her on. Christ. He had douche written all over him. She’d be lucky if he offered to bang her in his car, instead of just doing her against a wall out back.
Keep your head in the game.
Grabbing my beer, I chugged it down, then leaned over toward Marsh.
“You got any more work?” I asked. He stared at me, eyelid twitching, and I wondered what the hell was going on in that crazy head of his.
“Why?” he asked. “You made plenty of cash on that last run.”
Because I need to finish this fucking farce.
“Not enough,” I said shortly. “I’m getting to the point where I’m going to have to start taking jobs again. Whatever you decide is fine, but I’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with the club. Figured I’d talk to you before putting out any more feelers.”
He considered the question, then nodded slowly.
“I might have more work for you,” he said. “But that means taking things to the next level. You ever consider joinin’ a club?”
Why, yes. Yes, I have. Been a Reaper for eighteen years, thanks for asking.
“Not really,” I said. Talia leaned over and started sucking on my neck. Hard. Bitch wanted to mark her territory. I’d fucked up back there, talking to Tinker. But Jesus, she’d fallen right next to me. I couldn’t just let her get trampled, and once I had my hands on her it wasn’t like I was gonna let her go.
“Consider it,” he said bluntly. “We’re heading down to Ellensburg tomorrow. Big classic car show. You remember a guy named Hands? Disappeared right around the time you started comin’ around.”
“Huh,” I said, tugging at Talia’s hair. She felt like a leech attached to my neck.
“I got word from a friend—turns out Hands was an informant for the feds,” Marsh said, leaning in close.
“No shit?” I asked, wondering where he’d gotten the information. Hands had been an informant, all right. Now he was a dead informant. Not that I’d killed him personally. Nope, all I’d done was help my brother Painter kidnap him, beat the shit out of him for good measure and then hand him off to the Bellingham Reapers like the garbage he was. Wasn’t exactly sure what they’d done with him after that, but my best guess was they’d dumped the body offshore.
Fucking shame, all things considered. I’d had to spend three extra nights in that rat trap of a hotel because of him.
“Yeah,” he said. “And I got word that Hands is gonna be at the car show. You wanna be part of this club, now’s the time to show your loyalty. You helped us deal with this situation and I see lots of opportunity for you down the road. You with me?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Talia’s hand snaked down between us, cupping my cock through my fly. I pushed her off me, annoyed.
“What the fuck, Coop?” she asked. Marsh burst out laughing.
“Been too long since you had a real man, sis. You forget that not all of us sign over our balls at the door. Stop your bitchin’ and go grab us some more beers.”
She sneered at him, but she didn’t argue. I watched as she walked away, feeling almost sorry for her. Growing up with this jackass couldn’t have been easy.
“We’ll also be bringing some product down tomorrow,” Marsh said. “I’ve got some associates in the Tri-Cities. You met them before. They’ve got some other goods to swap with ours. We’ll pick them up, deal with Hands, and then enjoy the rest of the day. Some of those street rods aren’t half bad, even if they aren’t bikes.