over his cock—his glare never broke from St. John.
“You want some of this pig?” His finger clawed into Abigail’s jawline and cheeks. Dull blue eyes blasted wide open as he twisted her fire-red face toward St. John. Grunts escaped her mouth—he shook her skull. “Shut up, bitch.”
St. John looked away. “No, I don’t.”
Justice felt a flash of rage burn across his chest. Abigail was thrown down onto the oak slats of treated wood. She curled into a fetal position.
“Maybe you ought to go see Fury. He’ll suck your dick,” he spat with disdain over the escaped words.
St. John shook his head and walked away.
* * *
The paved section of trail had ended about a mile back and to the east. Not made for off road biking, the blood brothers needed the privacy more than the bike maintenance. Surrounded by blankets of pine, spruce and fir trees, the evergreen forest loomed across giant swatches of shrub covered fields.
They’d cut their massive V-Twin engines before the narrowest section of path, but wildlife scattered in every direction as their seven hundred pound Harleys coasted down a slight decline.
Justice pushed his dusty riding goggles atop his forehead. “Boys, we got to solve this shit. The Savage Nation’s still divided over leadership and word about losing a quarter million bucks has spread. If they start to organize back East, we might lose key networks for our distribution operations.” Justice’s wrinkled brow revealed a rare state of distress as his words eked between strapped lips.
“I’m working with the information from Geneti’s computer. The pilot scratched himself out with that .45 caliber through his own mouth,” Rage said. “The download and e-mail sent from Geneti’s account right before we got there is still in the hopper. My buds from old Army Intel days are trying to put a name to the e-mail account.”
“Thanks, Rage. How about you, Sue? Anything on where our cash travelled?”
“Well, our best lead was back in Las Vegas, but you killed Red without questioning him about it.”
Justice sat rigid. He didn’t take well to the insinuation that he’d fucked up. Sue had always been a calculating son of a bitch, and one of the rare people who knew how to push his buttons. He was an older brother after all—but Justice was still the president and demanded respect.
“Save your bullshit for later. We need facts, and that damn cash back in our hands. I’ll ask you again, what do you know about our money?” Justice’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed harder than usual. The Colorado sun baked his scowl—it’d been almost eight weeks since the heist and Justice felt his cash slipping away.
Sue, the former USMC Force Recon, wasn’t easily intimidated. “Lil’ Bro, it’s going to lead back to more than dead ass Red in Vegas. He had a big crew loyal to him. Matter of fact, I’d be surprised if Dragon Mike survived till the end of this week.”
Rage swung a heavy black motorcycle boot over his saddle, and stretched his back. “Yeah, I’ve been swiping their communications and looks like your young buck chapter president is making waves. He’s busting skulls and the old guard has had enough of his shit. The boy’s loyal to you, but that might be what gets him killed.” He kicked the square-toe boot against a red-clay rock formation before leaning against a mound.
“I’m going to send Vengeance back out there, but not alone.”
“Justice, send Mercy, too. He’s calm and knows how to sift through bullshit. And send somebody as a toss away. If shit gets too hot, that prick can be left there to try and back up Mike. At least the Dragon won’t die alone,” Sue said.
“Opie,” Justice added as he pulled the shades back over his eyes—the sun bounced into Rage’s face and he sneered.
Sue shrugged his shoulders, “Who the fuck is that?”
“That muscle head from Florida. St. John.”
“How about the weapons?” Sue asked. “Too big a crate just to disappear.”
“I’ve created a digital cloud over Vegas and Nellis Air Force Base. If anyone is texting, tweeting or mentions those guns over social media, I’ll intercept it,” Rage said.
“How’s that shit work?” Sue’s expression showed his astonishment, “Fucking amazing.”
“It’s how we dropped death on the Taliban,” Justice said.
Rage smiled, “Yeah, we didn’t have this shit in the nineties when I hit the sandbox for Desert Storm. It sure would’ve helped.”
The quiet was severed with the big engine explosion between Justice’s thighs. The Dyna Super Glide’s powerful fifteen hundred cc twin cam engine