Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,15
baby, that girl is way too sweet for you.” She laughed as she trailed a long, purple fingernail down his chest. “Don’t even think about barking up that tree. Stick to the ones in our forest, baby.”
“Yeah, I figured that out five seconds after meeting her.” Which was why he’d stay away no matter how hard she made him. No one needed the fucked up that was in his brain when it came to relationships. After risking another glance at the back of Makenna’s head—okay fine, and a quick peek at her pert but small ass—he put the ridiculous attraction on the shelf and got back to the task at hand.
“Enough bullshit. I need some details on the Disciples.”
Kristy threw her arms in the air. “Come on, Thunder, you know I can’t do that. I have no loyalty to that club. But a paycheck’s a paycheck, and I can’t risk losing this one because those bastards pay fucking well. Besides, you know they wouldn’t tell me jack or shit about their business no matter how many of their faces I shake my tits in.”
Fuck, she was right. A polite request would get him nowhere—time to break out the big guns. “I get it, babe, I really do. And I’m not trying to get you booted from your gig. But you do owe me, don’t you?” About a year ago, Kristy had a piece of shit fiancé who knocked her around. She was one badass bitch, but even she wasn’t a match for a two-hundred-fifty-pound pile of muscle. Lucky for her, the Handlers were. Thunder made sure the dude wouldn’t be hitting a woman again.
Ever.
So yeah, she owed him.
With a sigh, she nodded, raking her long fingernails across her forearm in a nervous gesture he’d never seen from her. “Fuck you, Thunder.” She looked at Tex for a moment as though hoping the prospect could somehow get her out of this, but Tex he kept his lips clamped. This wasn’t his show. Finally, Kristy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “They’re a bunch of assholes. Grabbiest motherfuckers. Not much for the word, no.”
If those shitbags—
Kristy lifted a hand. “I can see you gearing up to play the hero. Don’t bother. I can handle myself, and so can the girls I bring with me. I made sure of that after last year.” She lifted one bare shoulder then let it drop. “Besides, I don’t say no to much anyway.”
Another one of those choked sounds came from Tex, who’d been quietly watching their byplay. Finally, he made himself useful. “Any idea how their business is going?”
Kristy studied him as though trying to decide if she trusted him. She’d been dancing at Handler’s parties since long before Thunder’s prospecting days began. She’d give Tex her trust by association.
Her eyes narrowed, and she hunched forward. “None of this shit came from me, you two understand? I’m dancing there the next three Saturdays, and I’ll be fucked if I lose that cash.”
Both he and Tex nodded. “Of course,” he said.
“They’re scrambling. Or at least they have been the past few weeks. Something happened a month or so ago with a delivery of whatever the fuck they move, and it cost them big time. I don’t know any details, I swear. And ever since the diner blew up, I’m pretty sure there are Feds parking outside their clubhouse. Between the shipment fuck up and the investigation, they’re partying all the time but doing very little business-wise.”
By the shrewd light in her eyes, she knew exactly what the CDMC transported. But she was too intelligent to voice it.
“What does big time mean?”
“A lotta money,” she said with a shrug. “What else. It’s all about the green shit, isn’t it?”
For her, yes. For him? For so many years, also yes. He’d grown up with men and women willing to do anything and anyone for their next meal. It was only now that he had the Handlers in his life that he’d begun to realize there was more to life than selling one’s body for a quick buck.
Kristy leaned in. “A couple of those guys get pretty fucking loose-lipped when they’re trashed. Word is that Crank, their enforcer, is on a rampage. It’s impossible to find a new way to transport his…product with all the interest from the cops. Two of their customers found alternate suppliers after the incident with the delivery trucks. Crank is an asshole on a good day, but he’s been downright psychotic lately. You’re lucky the cops are