reluctantly kicked it to the side, out of his reach.
“Please don’t kill me,” Joker begged. Like the little bitch he was.
I laughed. “Yeah, nothing you say to me is gonna save your life.” The laughter died away quickly and was replaced by the volcano of rage bubbling inside me. “You tried to kill my old lady, motherfucker. I should make you bleed for each minute she feared for her life. But I can be reasonable.” Scout scoffed, and I used my free hand to flip him the bird over my shoulder. “If you tell me where you found out about the contract, I’ll make it a bullet between the eyes. Otherwise—and I’m rooting for this option—I’m taking you to a special room where you’ll do a lot of screaming before you tell me what I want to know anyway.”
Joker looked around frantically, but no one was here to help him. They either hadn’t noticed or weren’t suicidal enough to step between a Silver Saint and his target—which was more likely.
“Who would be stupid enough to hire this little shit for a hit?” Dax mused incredulously when Joker trembled. Actually fucking trembled. It was a valid question.
“I’m a good marksman.”
“If that were true,” Scout snarled, “you woulda hit at least someone today.”
Joker raised his chin and defended himself in a whiny voice. “I’ve completed dozens of jobs. Your compound is big, and I couldn’t get close enough with the gun I brought.”
It dawned on me then. “You like a perch. Out of the action. Because you’re a fucking coward.”
Joker winced but didn’t agree with or dispute my assumption. Didn’t matter, I was done with this bullshit. “The job. How’d you get it?”
He looked at my gun and back to my face, then gazed behind me, presumably taking in the three men I had with me. When his eyes returned to my face, he looked resigned. He rattled off the information for a site on the dark web. The second he stopped talking, he hit the ground with a bullet hole right between the eyes. Just as my girl would’ve done.
We stood there in silence for a couple of heartbeats before Dax broke it, and interjected, “I’d have taken him to the shed. Just saying…”
I rolled my eyes and pivoted on my heel. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and back to our old ladies,” I growled.
Dax sighed and shook his head. If I’d had enough room to care about anything but Harlowe at that moment, I might have felt bad. Out of all of us, Dax was the “romantic,” if you could even use that word to describe a tough-as-shit biker. He wanted a family, but he’d just turned forty, and lately, it seemed as though he was giving up.
Mac stepped to the side and looked around me, then lifted his chin in acknowledgment of something. I glanced back to see the county sheriff return the gesture, then look pointedly at the two dead bodies.
Dax and Scout huffed in annoyance, but they each walked over and hefted one of the bodies over their shoulders. We took them to the back of the building, dug the slugs out of them, then stuffed them in metal trash cans. I doused the containers with the gasoline I’d brought, knowing we’d be disposing of at least one body. With a nod, Mac handed me a matchbook, then started off toward his bike.
This shitty excuse for a human had come after what was mine. It was my right to send the asshole straight to hell. I lit a match and tossed it into one can, not even feeling the heat from the small explosion it caused. I did the same to the other one, then threw in the box, spun on my heel, and marched back to my ride.
We saddled up and took off toward our compound. When we arrived back home, it had been well over an hour since I’d talked to Huntley. I’d decided to make him wait until I wasn’t so keyed up from the situation. This conversation was only gonna go one way, but that didn’t mean I had to be a complete bastard about it. Which I probably would have been if the ride hadn’t given me time to calm down. With every mile that brought me closer to Harlowe, I felt more and more at ease. Still, I needed to have her in my arms to reassure myself that she was fine.
After we parked our bikes in the garage,