“Put your dick in your pants and meet me outside,” he snapped, disconnecting the call.
“Everything okay?” Kitten asked as we walked into the kitchen. I turned around and looked at her, watching as she sipped a bottle of water. Her cheeks flushed, her hand still on her belly hoping to get another feel of Pea.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She pulled the water bottle from her lips and looked at me.
“Oh, okay,” she placed the water on the counter and turned to me.
“Give me a kiss,” I ordered, hating the disappointment reflected in her eyes.
She reached up on her tip toes, wrapping one arm around my neck and placed her hand against my cheek as her lips glided over mine.
“Be careful,” she said against my mouth.
“I’ll see you later,” I replied, giving her ass a soft smack before winking at her and slipping out the back door, avoiding the bunch of crazy Italians that were probably fighting over godparent rights.
I walked around to the front of the house and saw Jack straddling his bike.
“What’s the big emergency?” I asked, walking up to him.
He lifted his head, his facial expression grim as he stared back at me.
“Wu sent a message,” he clipped.
Four simple words.
Words that turned any short-lived dream into a nightmare
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Shit,” Jack growled, as we killed the engines of our bikes and assessed the damage at Pop’s shooting range. I stared at the front of the building, riddled with bullets, as Jack pulled off his fingerless gloves, taking casual strides toward the dozens of cops swarming the joint.
“Sorry fella’s we’re fresh out of donuts,” Jack said, shoving his gloves into his pockets. He leaned back on his heels as he eyed a group of blue and whites. “But gotta tell you, got this warm fuzzy feeling…” he pounded his fist against the center of his chest, “…up in here. We’re touched all you rat bastards showed up in our time of need. Isn’t that right, Riggs?” He asked, keeping his eyes steady on one particular cop.
“Right,” I agreed, sizing up the situation. The cop Jack was staring at narrowed his eyes at him.
“Just doing our jobs, Parrish,” he replied. “Putting away the bad guys and all that shit.”
Blackie, Bones, Pipe and Wolf walked up behind us, all of them glaring at the men in uniform. The cop lifted his head and raised an eyebrow in Blackie’s direction.
“Well, look who it is,” he taunted, stepping around Jack and closer to Blackie. Jack was quick on his feet and stood in front of the vice president.
This was new, usually the cops we deal with are on the payroll, not these guys. They were out for blood, and by the looks of it Blackie’s was what they were thirsty for.
“Relax Bulldog, no need to get possessive over a junkie,” the cop ground out, flexing his jaw. “Scum like that not worth the effort,” he added.
“You would know right, Craig?” Blackie clipped, as Jack placed his hand on his chest, holding him back. “I’m good,” he told Jack, shoving his hand off his chest.
“Instead of taunting my brothers why don’t you assholes do your job and find out who shot up Pop’s business,” Jack suggested.
“We intend to,” Craig promised. “Who’d you piss off this time, Bulldog?”
“Don’t bust my balls. Do your job or get the fuck out of here, put all those hard earned tax dollars to use," Jack hissed, turning around to face the rest of us and nodded toward Pops.
“You people probably never paid taxes a day in your life,” he sneered.
Jack ignored him and we walked away from the tribe of officers when Craig called out to us.
“Hey, Blackie, I’d watch my back if I were you. It’d be a shame if you suffered the same fate as Christine,” he crooned.
Blackie spun around.
“Fuck,” Jack hissed, as Blackie charged for the cop.
“Keep her name off your fucking tongue or so help me God I’ll slice that thing right out of your fucking mouth,” Blackie growled, as I grabbed him by the back of his cut and pulled him back.
“Sounds like you just threatened a police officer,” he tormented.
Blackie shrugged me off of him and took another step toward Craig.
“You got a hard on for me, motherfucker?” Blackie whispered, extending his arms outward and crossing one wrist over the other. “Go on, lock me up,” he hollered.
What the fuck was going on?
I glanced at the name on this Craig character’s badge, Brantley. I think Craig Brantley needed to get locked out of his bank accounts, or maybe he needed a profile on a gay dating website, shouldn’t be a hard task, for a mastermind like me. I’d be all over that shit.
“Pussy,” Blackie hissed, dropping his hands to his sides and turning back to face us.
“You okay?” Jack questioned.
“I’m fine,” he confirmed, tipping his head toward the ambulance rolling into the parking lot.