(Club Chrome MC 2) All Dogs Bite (19 page)

“Fifty-thousand is a lot of money,” Jaime said, going straight to the point. “How do I know your product is good? Maybe I offer you less because I’m taking a chance on you.”

“Maybe you pay as we agreed or I drop your body down a mine shaft and forget I ever saw you,” Bronx returned evenly, holding the man’s gaze.

Jaime chuckled. “
Si, si,
but I have
amigos
motherfucker…I disappear…more come and they come for you.”

“Let them come. I have plenty of friends, too.” He held Jaime’s stare for a long moment then leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands as if trying to facilitate a truce. “Look, we’re both businessmen…the guns are solid. I don’t care to have the headache of dealing with
La Víbora
on a bad deal for such a small amount of money.”

Peaches returned with another round, placing the tequila shot in front of Jaime with a smile that should’ve sent chills down the man’s back but he didn’t notice and downed the shot, finishing with a satisfied nod. “
Si, si
, is good, mama,” he told her with a wink, then went to pinch her ass but she’d already turned on her heel and left him in the dust. He sighed with disappointment then waggled his eyebrows at Bronx, saying, “The woman, reminds me of my wife in Guadalajara…her ass is big enough for two men, eh?”

Bronx ignored that and pushed forward. Peaches could handle herself. “Do we have a deal?”

“All business, no time for fun, eh?” Jaime sobered and finally nodded, sealing the deal. “Si, we have a deal.
La Víbora
welcomes you to the family.”

“Thanks but we have enough family right here. This is a one-time gig. Too much heat around here. The cops are watching us thanks to a botched deal last year. Do yourself a favor and find another distributor.”

“That’s too bad, I like it here,” Jaime said, sighing. “But we have no interest in attracting the attention of your
federales
.”

“I didn’t think so.” Bronx scribbled an address on a slip of paper and slid it to Jaime. “This is where you’ll find your shipment. I’ll expect the prearranged payment made to this bank account within one hour or I’ll consider our deal null and void and then I’m coming after you for payment.”

“Calm down,
perrito
, the money will be there, assuming the guns are good.” Jaime pocketed the paper and, with one last look Peaches’ way, he left the club.

It wasn’t until Jaime was gone that Bronx finally took a deep breath. He’d been so tense the entire time that he was surprised he hadn’t cracked a knuckle from clenching so hard beneath the table. “That went as well as can be expected,” he muttered. To Pyro he said as he rose from the table, “Monitor the account. Let me know the minute the money clears.”

“Will do. Heading home?”

“Yeah, I’m not good company tonight. Close up shop, will you?”

“No worries.” Pyro hesitated, then said, “You going home alone?”

Bronx saw Monica grinding against Grady’s leg, laughing as Grady squeezed her tits with a big-ass, dopey grin and he nodded, almost gratefully. He needed some peace and fucking quiet and one thing Monica was not, was quiet — ever.

“Keep your head on a swivel, bud,” Pyro advised. “Someone’s still out there.”

“Whoever it was is probably long gone at this point. It’s been all chill on the home front,” he said, swinging his jacket over his shoulders. “Take it easy, Pyro.”

Bronx should’ve been riding high with adrenalin right now but instead he felt drained. The deal had been smooth, the money would be there within the hour, and everything had gone to plan. So why did he feel as if he were spiraling down the toilet instead of enjoying the glory of a sealed deal? Because
she
was on his mind. All the time.

He couldn’t even bring himself to say her name because when he did, a vicious pain ripped through his heart. The way he’d treated her when he’d left…fuck, the memory was enough to cripple a man. That’s just it, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been a man, he’d been a bitch-ass punk. He’d hurt her on purpose because he hadn’t been able to handle the reality that he was falling for her. He told himself a whole slew of lies, that he’d been doing it to protect her, that he was doing her a favor, but in the end, it was all for selfish reasons.

He’d been afraid. Afraid of what loving Delainey would mean. He didn’t know how to provide a life for her, a better life than what he had right now.

C’mon, Delainey wasn’t cut out for the lifestyle he was born into. She was soft and sweet; he was hard and jaded. The two just don’t mix.

And yet, here he was morose as a teenage girl because he fucking missed Delainey’s home-cooking and the way she giggled when he nuzzled her neck and the funny way she mumbled weird things in her sleep. All those things…he missed so bad that each day seemed an extension of the last and the one before that was pretty shitty. So basically, an endless calendar of shit.

He wished he had the balls to call her. Even if she were calling him every bad word in the book, he’d take it just to hear her voice.
Ahh, pathetic
. He obviously didn’t have the balls to do anything because he’d left them in Delainey’s purse. What the hell was he doing? His life was here. Running The Road Dogs. It was a decent life. He had a little money in the bank and within the hour, he’d have a whole lot more.

But then what? He didn’t want to run illegal operations for the rest of his life because he knew if he did, his life would end up very short. That was the price. But what else was he qualified to do? He didn’t even know anymore.

Once home, he spent a good twenty minutes in the shower, mostly just standing beneath the spray, wishing he could rinse off the last twenty years of his life, but when the water turned cold, he stepped out and started toweling off. He heard something in the living room and went to investigate.

When he saw Monica he wanted to groan. Can’t he get a fucking break? He’d really been hoping that she’d go home with Grady so that she wouldn’t show up at his place but no such luck. “I’m tired. If you stay, you’re sleeping on the couch,” he told her bluntly, not willing to put up with her shit.

“The deal go down all right?” she asked, ignoring him to go get herself a beer from the fridge as if she owned the place.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, irritated. “I thought you were going home with Grady tonight.”

“Grady doesn’t have what I need, baby,” she said, coming toward him with a smile as she took a deep swig of the beer before placing it on the table. “He’s just fun and games, you know that. You have what I want.”

“Looked like Grady was doing a good enough job of giving you something back at The Rusty Chain.”

She laughed as if Bronx had said something hilarious, which just seemed odd. He narrowed his gaze at her to ask, “Are you high? You’re acting like a lunatic.”

“Straight as an arrow tonight, baby. There’s too much riding on tonight to waste it on getting loaded.”

He was tired of her cryptic comments and really not in the mood for anything she had to offer so he just waved her off, saying, “Whatever. You’re still taking the couch,” and then started for his bedroom.

“Not tonight, baby,” she said, and then he heard a sound that chilled his blood. He slowly turned and saw Monica with a gun pointed straight at him.
Oh fuck me, was this really happening?
“What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch,” he asked in a low, measured tone. “Put the motherfucking gun down before you shoot your damn foot off.”

“Your mistake Bronx is that you’re so damn arrogant that you don’t see what’s right in your face. I’ve been fucking around on you for months.”

He laughed. “Yeah? So. That would only hurt if I cared. So you’re going to shoot me because, what? I’m not a good boyfriend?”

“Please,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not that petty. This goes far deeper than that and I’ve been waiting for this moment way too long.”

“Yeah? What’s holding you back? Do it, then. Stop pussy-footing around and just pull the trigger,” he dared her recklessly. Honestly, what did he have to live for anyway? He was tired of his own damn life. Life without Delainey felt pretty damn void of anything worth enjoying. Maybe Monica was just doing him a favor. But curiosity got the better of him as he asked, “So…you’re saying you were the one who tried to kill me?”

She snorted. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job. Lesson learned.”

“So what’s the reason why?”

“Because you sent my sweet Charlie to prison that’s why,” she answered with a mean stare. “If you hadn’t sent Charlie to prison for that bust, he’d still be here to help me spend the money you’re going to give me.”

“You’re fucking crazy. I’m not giving you shit.”

“Careful, baby, my trigger finger is getting twitchy. You want a fresh new hole to go with your other one? Keep pushing, I dare you. I’ve been jonesing for your blood for a long time now. And to think I sucked your dick. The sacrifices I made…” Her stare narrowed. “I earned that fucking payday. Now kindly give me the access code so I can get the fuck out of this shithole.”

“You’re gonna have to shoot me ‘cuz I ain’t telling you that code.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that so I managed to get a little insurance policy,” she said. Suddenly, Peaches appeared with a very frightened and gagged Delainey and Bronx nearly froze with shock. What the fuck? Monica smiled. “Wondering how I managed to find your little
baby mama
? Well, you’re terrible at covering your tracks. I just followed you when you left with your bike that day. And then, when I saw you weren’t going back to her, I followed her around to see what she’s all about and fancy that when I saw her walking into an OB-GYN clinic with a friend. I put two and two together and realized, you must’ve knocked her up and split.” She made a sad face toward Delainey. “Tough break, kid. Bronx isn’t daddy material. Oh, and he’s a terrible boyfriend, too. Did he tell you about our fun times together?”

“Shut your mouth, you skank,” he demanded, his mind reeling as he shot an uncertain look at Delainey. She blinked back tears and he knew somehow Monica was telling the truth. Holy fuck. Delainey was pregnant? Then the memory of the lake hit him and he was overcome with momentary joy that came out of nowhere and was certainly inappropriate to the situation but a rush of emotion unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. What were the odds? His baby was in her belly. His child.

“Ohh, looks like someone is just finding out. Sorry to drop the bomb like that,” Monica offered with fake sincerity. “But then, I don’t think there’s any way to let a man know he’s knocked someone up, right?”

“Get on with it,” Peaches growled. “Get the fucking code.”

Delainey whimpered and tears soaked her gag, which told him Delainey had probably been trussed up in the back at The Rusty Chain the whole time he was meeting up with Jaime and white-hot rage blotted out his thoughts. He was going to kill the two traitorous bitches in front of him. He turned his attention to Peaches. “What’s in this for you?”

“Straight business, boy. Nothing personal. I’m tired of the bullshit. I want a cut of that money and Monica has agreed to give me some. Sorry it came down to this. You’re a decent club leader but I’m tired of being at the mercy of a man for my money.”

Monica cut an annoyed look to Peaches and gestured with the gun. “All right, all right, what’s the fucking access code or I put a bullet in your baby mama’s gut.”

“It’ll be the last thing you do,” he said with deadly promise. “I will rip you apart with my bare hands and it’ll take more than a single bullet to stop me.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Monica said, turning the gun on Delainey, square on her stomach and Bronx had to stop himself from lunging at the bitch and tearing out her throat with his teeth. “A gut shot will kill you but it’ll be slow and she’ll not only die in agony but also knowing that her kid is dead, too. You want that on your conscience?”

The seconds ticked by and Bronx knew the moment he gave Monica that code, bullets were going to fly either way. He could try and jump for the gun but the chance that Monica might hit Delainey was too high for him to chance.

But before he could say anything, the pop of a bullet ricocheted through the house and Bronx dove for Monica, blinded with fear and rage. If Delainey was dead…he’d never live through the grief — he might as well turn the gun on himself.

-17-

Delainey once read that desperate fear will do crazy things to people, even give them courage or strength they didn’t know they had. Sometimes it caused them to freeze, other times it caused them to react in ways they might not normally. Apparently Delainey fell in the latter. Hands tied behind her back and held by the big woman named Peaches, her feet were nonetheless free, which according to a certain rom-com movie featuring her favorite actress, left her free to stomp on Peaches’ in-step.

And that’s exactly what she did.

It was all a blur, really. Delainey knew they were probably all going to die anyway. She didn’t trust either woman to let them go free once they had what they wanted and Delainey wasn’t about to die without a fight. Her baby deserved the kind of mom that would do anything for him/her. And that meant fighting tooth and nail to survive. Stomping as hard as she could, Delainey used the sole of her boot to deliver the pain and shock of surprise to the older woman and then dropped to the floor when she heard the frightening pop of gunfire.

Her first thought,
holy hell, am I dead?
, was immediately followed by
holy hell, are they dead
?, because both women were face down and bleeding. A lot.

A tall, dark haired man stepped out from the protection of the hallway, his gun still smoking, and Bronx scrambled to her side, rambling and shouting at the same time and she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. He yanked down her gag and frantically searched her body for evidence of a gunshot and when she realized this, she managed to say, “I’m all right,” before he started tearing off her clothes in search of the potential injury.