Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)

The bartender returned with a pretty, red-headed waitress who promised to keep Wheels and T-Rex entertained and well supplied with drinks. After she reached the prospects’ table, the bartender motioned to them to follow, and they quickly rounded the bar, then walked single file down a narrow hallway to a small room at the end of the corridor.

The infamous Bunny—a pasty-faced, middle-aged man with a good-sized paunch and a receding hairline—gestured them inside from behind a wooden desk. If not for the two burly bodyguards standing on either side of him, the Beretta on the table, and the coldest, darkest eyes Arianne had ever seen outside the Black Jack clubhouse, he could have been anyone’s dad.

Bunny’s gaze flicked from Dawn to Arianne and then back to Dawn. “You.”

“Me.”

“You back in the game?”

Dawn lifted a cool shoulder. “Just helping out a friend. My girl’s looking to buy some guns for a customer of yours. Jeff Wilder.”

Arianne poked Dawn in the side and glared. “You know Bunny? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

Bunny leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head, his gaze raking over Arianne’s body, leaving a bitter tang in her mouth. “’Cause she doesn’t want to know me. Bad things happen to people who know me. Like that piece of scum, Jeff. How are you involved with him?”

“He’s my brother.”

Dawn hissed a warning a second too late. Bunny’s ears perked up and his brow furrowed. “Viper’s daughter. Interesting. Never knew he had a daughter. I’ve had enough problems dealing with your brother. Not so sure I want to double my risk and deal with you, too. What’s it worth to you?”

“What do you want?”

“You. On your knees. Between my legs to start. Dee can stay and watch. She likes that kind of thing.”

Dawn bristled. “Fuck you, Bunny.”

He cocked his head to the side and leered. “You want in on the action, Dee, just say the word. I’ll take you both at the same time.”

Arianne’s throat burned. “How about we stick with cash?”

“Got enough cash. Don’t got enough pussy. Maybe if I had enough pussy, I’d remember if I had any weapons lying around.”

Vile, disgusting, lecherous bastard. But she’d known men like him—the Jacks seemed to attract the lowest of the low—and she knew how to handle his unwanted advances, his pathetic attempts to shock her. At heart, men like Bunny wanted a challenge. She only had to threaten him to gain his respect.

Steeling herself to keep her face impassive and her voice calm, she said, “Maybe Viper would like to know that you’re supplying Jeff under the table.”

His face hardened, but she caught a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “He tell you that?”

She bit back a smile. “Jeff does what Viper tells him to do. Only thing he does on his own is drugs, and they’re always in short supply. Since you’re the man who can get anything, I figured he’d go to you.”

Bunny scowled. “Maybe you’d like to use that smart mouth to pay off the five grand your brother owes me so I don’t break his legs next time I see him. Once he and I are square, then we can talk weapons.”

“Gimme a couple of hours on your tables, and I’ll have your money.”

Bunny cocked his head to the side, considering. “You shoot pool?”

“Viper might have taught me a thing or two.”

“Still want that fucking honey sweet mouth of yours, so how about you play my boy Peter? You win, I give you the contact details of someone who can supply your brother. Guaranteed. You lose, and you spend the rest of the night with those sweet lips wrapped around my dick.”

Arianne looked over at Dawn and got a vehement head shake despite the fact that Dawn had seen her play. Arianne had no idea how good Peter was, but as she’d told Jagger, when Viper taught a lesson, you never forgot it.

“I’ve been saving this mouth for someone special.” She licked her lips for effect. “So if I win, Jeff’s debt is erased and you give me the details.”

Bunny huffed. “Definitely Viper’s daughter. We got a deal. But I have to warn you, my boy’s been playing since he was five years old.”

Arianne laughed. “Then he started three years too late.”

“Nononononononono.”

Arianne ignored Dawn’s moan and kept her focus on the striped ball on the pool table in front of her. Bunny hadn’t lied. His son, Peter, was good. Damn good. But he’d missed a shot early on, and now she had control of the table. She took her shot, and the ball bounced off the bumper, knocking two striped balls into their pockets before spinning into the corner. Peter exhaled an irritated breath and headed over to his table at the back of their section, calling for his friends to pour him a drink.

“What’s wrong?” Arianne chalked the cue as she considered the table. She was up by two now with only two to go, but if she missed, she just might be handing the game to Peter, who was now glowering at her from the corner.

“It’s Cade.”