Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,86

up to level twenty.

“That’s because of your situation with Novak and Hearst.”

“Yeah, it fucking is, and it’s also because I don’t fucking trust these motherfuckers.”

Moss and Hearst have sent us here to threaten one of the engineers who has been consulting on the mine approval he’s trying to push through. Apparently, this guy has decided he wants Moss to pay him a fair chunk of change before he’ll sign off on his part of the process.

“That makes two of us, brother, so let’s just keep our shit together, get through this, and then go the fuck home.”

My VP is in a mood today. Fuck knows why, because he keeps shit to himself, but I’m picking up the vibe he’s putting down, so I know it’s time to pull my head in and just get shit done.

We exit the lift and make our way to the guy’s office. He appears to be the only one here, which makes sense; it’s Saturday night, and most sane people are busy drinking, fucking, or zoning out in front of the TV.

Griff doesn’t bother to knock. He tries the door first, and when it’s locked, he kicks it in. The guy we’re here to see looks up from his desk with panic, and when he sees us coming towards him, he madly reaches into his drawer, searching for something. Something that I just fucking know isn’t going to be anything good.

Knowing this, I don’t take my fucking time stalking around his desk. And I sure as fuck don’t take my time getting my fist in his face. He lands on the floor, at which point I reef him up and slam him back down in his seat. Pressing my hands to his chair armrests either side of him, I get in his face and demand, “Do you know why we’re here?”

His lips curl up. “My guess is Dwayne Moss sent you.”

“He sure as fuck did,” I say. “You’re gonna sign some paperwork for us.”

“I’m not signing anything, asshole. Not until I get my money from Moss.”

I push up off the chair and punch him again. Then, gripping his neck, I steady him in the chair and say, “There’s not gonna be any more money from Moss.”

Griff produces the paperwork we need signed and shoves it across the desk at the guy with a pen. “Sign that and don’t waste our fucking time. We all know how tonight’s gonna end. I’d rather just cut straight to the end now.”

The guy eyes Griff, and snarls, “I don’t think you’re gonna like how tonight ends.”

My fist connects with his face and he ends up on the floor again. As I reach down to hoist him back up, the motherfucker pulls a move and grabs a fucking knife he had stashed around his ankle. He then tries to fucking stab me with it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I bellow as I fight him off and jerk him back up to a standing position. I’m fucking ropable now. All fucking bets are off. “You sit at a fucking desk all day and you sling a fucking knife around your ankle? Who the fuck are you? Crocodile fucking Dundee at a desk?” I jab him in the face, hard and snappy. His head bounces back and then forward, at which point, I punch him again, this time hard enough to lay him flat on the floor.

This asshole thinks he’s the shit, though. Instead of lying down and accepting his fucking fate, he keeps fighting against me and is back up in my face fast. We go another round of punches, and Griff steps in to help, pulling the guy away from me and holding him around the neck.

Tightening his hold on him, Griff roars, “Sign the fucking paperwork or I’ll let Gunnar go to fucking town on you, and that is the last fucking thing you want. Mark my fucking words.”

The guy shows us just what a dickhead he is when he struggles against Griff. “I want my fucking money before I sign anything!”

I look at Griff. “And here I was thinking this’d be a quick, easy job.” Jerking my chin at the guy, I say, “Hold him for me.”

Griff holds him steady and I smash my fist into his face. Fast. Repeatedly. Until I’m punching a bloody mess that I can’t fucking make out as a face anymore.

“You ready to sign yet?” I ask when I take a breather.

The guy shakes his head. It’s hanging from his shoulders like it