Page 5 of Snake (Road Rebels MC 3)
“If there’s one thing we know about The Rebels, it’s that they live by a code. They don’t dabble in the type of shit The Saints do. They stick to their bar, their turf, and their ranks. My theory? They planted those drugs and went through all that shit to protect one of their own.”
“Sydney and her daughter,” I said.
“Exactly. The drug bust did just what they wanted. It took the heat and surveillance off that woman and, by proxy, them.”
“Do you have any proof for that?” I asked.
“Just a working theory. How does that sit with your gut?”
“A hell of a lot better than the shit the DEA’s spewing,” I said.
“So, this guy in the picture. You know who he is and whether he’s connected to The Road Rebels?” I asked.
“We ran facial recognition and got a match to a guy who goes solely by the name of ‘Hawk,’ but it was only a fifty-four percent match. The house was purchased by Joe Manning, who is deceased. His surviving kin is unknown. Nothing that would hold up in court. But yes, if that man is this Hawk character, then he’s connected to The Rebels.”
“Which means Sydney’s connected to The Rebels, and it gives your theory more traction,” I said.
“But we can’t get close to them. Not legally, and not with the DEA breathing down our necks and focusing all of our efforts on The Saints. And don’t get me wrong, we need to keep them in line. The head of that group is losing his mind.”
“Any proof?” I asked.
“I like you and this proof thing, but just hear me out.”
“No, sir. With all due respect, the proof is what keeps me in line,” I said.
He studied me with stern eyes before he relaxed his brow and sighed.
“No proof, but lots of rumors,” he said.
“Okay. So, Sydney went on joyrides with The Iron Souls, tipped the DEA off on the drug bust with The Devil Saints, and if the man in this picture is ‘Hawk,’ she’s at least living with someone from The Road Rebels.”
“She’s the spoke in this entire damn wheel.”
“Then why the hell is no one else surveilling her?” I asked.
“Because the DEA is interested in the cartel drugs,” he said.
“Such bullshit.”
“Yes, it is. Anyway, now you’re up to speed. Go get a drink, get some rest, and get back in here. I’m gonna put you to work on some things.”
“Are these ‘some things’ apart from the DEA?” I asked.
“Why would I ask you to do something like that? It’s all hands on deck with this shit.”
Then, he gave me a sly wink.
“I’ll be here bright and early, sir.”
The truth was, a drink sounded wonderful. I hadn’t realized my own town had become so corrupted by gangs and guns and drugs. I had no idea women were being prostituted and killed and used for their bodies. How the hell did things get so messed up?
Had it always been this messed up and I’d just been that blind?
I walked out to my car and pulled out an outfit to change into. I didn’t feel like going home, but I didn’t feel like eating. I changed my clothes in the backseat of my car before I slipped out, then I slid behind the steering wheel and cranked it up. My mind was whirling with all the information that had been thrown my way, and all I wanted to do was feel the cool, soothing trickle of liquor taint my throat.
Then, I’d sleep it off and get ready for the case of a fucking lifetime.
Chapter 5
Snake
I walked back to the compound and traded my leather Rebels cut for a regular leather jacket. It was easier to pick up women at a bar if they didn’t know I was a part of an outlaw biker gang. Some women were into that kind of thing, but those women were usually crazy. They’d intentionally try to bait bikers into sleeping with them, then get pregnant and think they were badass for carrying some outlaw’s child.
I wasn’t looking for someone to get pregnant. I was just looking for a place to rest my cock for the night.
The lodge was packed with people. I couldn’t stand the way we’d been crowded in here by Mac like a sausage in a casing. I almost had to fight someone to get a room all to myself. Fucking Mac wanted to put some random prospect on my fucking floor on an air mattress. I didn’t pack up my shit after our job went south to sleep in a room with some dude.
I was into a lot of shit, but having someone watch me fuck a woman wasn’t one of them.
I blew that place wide open as I left on my bike. I went screeching onto the road and headed into town. I wasn’t heading to our bar, nor was I heading to any of the bars I frequented. I was crossing town and headed to the other side of Henderson.
The side of Henderson, Nevada that bordered Las Vegas.
All of the trashiest women could be found in places like that. Women with tight pants that left nothing to the imagination. Women wearing shirts low cut enough that their tits would spill out of their bras. I salivated over those women. They were the easiest targets, the sweetest lays, and they always aimed to please. It was like their curves were the perfect size of my fingertips. And when they sat down on my cock, my body roared to life.
It was just a rule of thumb. If you wanted trashy women, get close to Vegas.
I pulled up to a seedy dive bar just as my phone rang. I ripped my helmet off and shoved it away, ready to ignore whoever the fuck was calling me. I didn’t want to think about anything other than the piece of ass I was taking home tonight.
But if she were really eager, I’d fuck her in one of these alleyways before dropping her back off at the bar.
“What?” I asked.
“Calm the fuck down,” Talon said. “I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay.”
“Because you’re worried about me?” I asked. “Save the bullshit.”
“No, because Gemma’s worried about you. Remember her? Your sister?”
“You mean the woman I tried to protect from all this shit before you stepped in with your overeager dick?” I asked.
I heard rustling on the other end of the line before her voice popped up.
“Jace?”
“Gemma, what do you want?” I asked.
“Where did you go? I thought we were going to have some tea or something when you got back.”
>
“You mean coffee? Since when do you fucking drink tea?”
There was silence on the other end of the line before I heard my sister sigh.
“When are you coming back?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m fine. How about you keep your worry stored up for when Talon screws something up?”
“You’re angry at something, and I know it’s not me. What happened?” she asked.
“Just let me blow off some steam, and I’ll get back to you,” I said.
“Remember to wrap it up. Don’t want my brother contracting anything,” she said.
“Whatever. Night.”
I hung up on my sister then shoved my phone back in my pocket. Worried, my ass. She wasn’t worried about me. She was just pissed that I wasn’t following the rules. Sweet little Gemma, always toeing the line between being a bad girl and being a good one. Never quite good enough to be innocent and never quite bad enough to be considered cool.
Well, I hoped she felt badass now. Because breaking the rules, I set forth for her and Talon got her into this fucking mess.
A mess that could get her killed.
And why the fuck was Talon calling me anyway? If Gemma was worried, she could just fucking call. She had a cell phone. She knew my number. Why the fuck did she have her little dick piece doing all her work for her?
Oh, right. Because he was pussy-whipped.
I felt frustration surging through my veins. I locked my helmet away in its cradle, setting my sights on the doors of the bar. I could already taste the sweet burn of the alcohol as it raced down my throat. I could already hear the voices in my head fading as I walked through the front doors. Cigarette smoke hit me, and I took it all in. I missed that fucking smell. The stale smell of beer and cigarettes after a congregation of hard-working fuckers joined in a chorus of retribution that fueled their hate-fire for life.
