Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 30746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Scars might have been the one to bear the mark, but they were one big family, and when one member hurt, they all fucking did. Scars didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and neither did the rest of the guys. Their president got a joint out of the inside of his cut, lit the end, and stared at the mountains that were in the distance.
“That motherfucker has been coming up with excuses on why he doesn’t need our muscle anymore and why he wants to stop paying the fees,” Little said right before he spanked the club pussy on the ass and sent her on her way. “But when Tank starts cracking his knuckles and rolling his head around on his neck, that little prick John nearly pisses his pants.” Little started laughing and elbowed Tank in the chest, and the sergeant at arms grinned and nodded.
“Yeah, good fucking times, but John is either high as fuck or has something else set up if he thinks he isn’t going to pay us.”
John O’Henry was a second-generation Irish bar owner in Steel Corner. His old man came over from Ireland back in the day, started O’Henry’s, and the bar had been passed down to John and his younger brother, Stevie. But a year back, there had been a pansy-ass gang of college kids who had broken into John’s bar, trashed the place, and stole a bunch of shit.
The Vicious Bastards had set those fuckers straight who had vandalized the bar and helped John get his place up and running again, but in return, he would pay them a weekly fee to not only make sure no one messed with him again, but to also add some cash to the Bastards’ pockets. It had been going good for the last year, but now it looked like John was trying to get out of the deal just because the original threat was now gone.
“We did a lot for that asshole,” Tank said again. “Those pussy-ass punks may have left Reckless months ago, but we put a lot of money and muscle into helping John rebuild that place and making it known that he wasn’t to be touched.”
Scars sighed and inhaled from his joint. “It’s a damn shame.” He turned and looked at them, but he took two more hits before speaking again. “I liked John and his family, but we had an agreement that he’d keep the cash flowing. It isn’t like he’s hurting for money, since he gets a shitload of people coming in from River Run and Steel Corner that want the rare and imported beer and liquor he supplies.”
Scars took one more hit and then flicked the roach into the trashcan by the front door. He looked at the ground, and Booshie knew he was thinking of what to do. If it was up to him, Booshie would have gone over there right now and beaten the shit out of John for thinking he could screw them over.
It wasn’t so much about the couple hundred dollars John gave them a week, but about keeping face and their reputation, and letting others know that when they did business with the Vicious Bastards, you didn’t just back out.
“Booshie and Tank, head over to O’Henry’s after six. That’s when John will be in.” A hard look covered Scars’s face. “Remind him that if he welches on a deal, then the MC won’t back him in anything again, and also remind him that if he wants out of our agreement, he’ll have to fork over a year’s worth of fees.” What Scars didn’t say, but what they all knew, was that John would also get a fucking beating for fucking over the Bastards.
It wasn’t like the club went around kicking people’s asses. They put themselves and their club on the line when they helped someone out, especially concerning a gang that dealt in violence of their own. When they agreed to handle John’s problem, they should have just kicked out the adolescent vandals, but a good ass-kicking and a “talking to” on what happened if they pulled that kind of shit in their town again went a long way.
Besides, they didn’t kill people, least of all some punk-ass kids who thought breaking other people’s shit was a good time. But they needed to uphold their image, or they wouldn’t be feared and respected, and any mediocre gang or club could move in on their territory. Not fucking going to happen, so that meant they would be busting balls at O’Henry’s.
3
Naggie pulled her SUV onto the driveway and cut the engine. When she bought the Honda Pilot, she had gotten so much shit from Cadeon and Ziggy. Them saying she looked like a little kid in the front seat of such a big vehicle only made her flip them off, fling a string of profanities their way, and enjoy her ride that much more.