Storm: (Blood Legion MC) (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 3) by Rie Warren

waltzed in with. She as good as Nikki was?”
    “You talkin’ about in bed?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Holds her own. Got no complaints.”
    Venom motioned at his glass, and I poured some of his own booze into it. “Shar’s holdin’ out on me.”
    “Sex?”
    “ Nah. Maybe a snitch.”
    I choked on the tequila. “Shar? Narking? No fuckin’ way.”
    “Got ATF breathing down our neck again. Feds. RICO bullshit.” He held the glass between two meaty fists tatted all the way to his knuckles. “See how this shit makes me paranoid? And then you turn up out of the clear blue. Walk right back in.”
    “I explained that.”
    “No records of you anywhere, Nash.”
    “I went off grid. I did not fuckin’ go WITSEC.”
    “Why’d you come back now?” Standing up, Venom paced around the office.
    The man was one big cokehead conundrum. Bookshelves lined with philosophers from Rousseau to Plato, Nietzsche, Marx. His desk littered with contracts for kills, gun specs sheets, white dust, and a fucking abacus.
    An MC outlaw with long-term plans. And a bad habit.
    My hackles rose when he ranged behind me.
    I was already sitting back-to a door. That was all the threat I could take in a situation like this.
    “Getting older. Want my legacy too.” I made myself relax with Venom stationed behind me.
    “Which is?”
    “Prez, eventually.”
    “Is that a threat?” he asked.
    I loosened every single muscle in my body, took a sip of tequila, and tapped a cigarette on my palm. “Nope. Hope to see you to your old age, brah , and make sure you get into the best care facility with an iron lung. Might even rename the MC Iron Lung when you’re in the nursing home.”
    Lighting my cig, I expected a blow to the head and the never-ending lights out for my balls-out bravado.
    I inhaled. Exhaled. My hair still raised.
    “ Couillon !” Venom pulled me up from the seat, bro-hugging me. “Only you got the cojones . Jesus Christ.”
    He released me and moved to the doors opened to the heavily guarded courtyard. “G’on kill you before you put me away though, cous .”
    That was a threat I didn’t take lightly.
    Our bonding moment was cut short when the door to the office banged open.
    The two of us spun, fully armed and ready to blow holes.
    “ Ange ! Fuck. You wanna live, you gotta knock first.” Venom put his revolver on the desk.
    “Easy, Cochise.” Angel sauntered inside. “Storm! Heard you were back, man.”
    He broke into a big smile, and we exchanged a hearty hug.
    “Well, look at you. You finally hit puberty, kid.” I drew back, inspecting him.
    At the age of twenty-two, Angel had to be at least six foot three now, not quite reaching my six-four. He’d filled out in the chest and arms, but he still had the blond wavy hair, the wholesome blue eyes, and the dimples in his cheeks.
    “Grew into your boots, huh ?” I smirked.
    He took a half-hearted swing at me. “Shut up.”
    “Blondie here’s allll growed up.” Venom sat behind his desk. “Got him his own Church of Our Ladies of Open Legs.”
    A faint blush spread across Angel’s cheeks, but he didn’t deny it.
    I knocked him on the shoulder. “Nuthin’ wrong with sowing your wild oats as long as you wrap your cock.”
    “Remember the first time we got him laid, Storm?” Venom refilled our glasses, adding one for Angel.
    “Hell yeah. Didn’t think that chick was gonna be able to find his pecker.”
    “Ha ha.” After taking a drink, Angel swiped his mouth. “And you’d know about STDs, Storm. Syphilis much?”
    That nasty fucking rumor had somehow managed to follow me from the MC to T-Zone.
    “I did not catch syphilis.”
    “That’s right. Was a bad case of the crabs.” Venom chuckled.
    “Fuck you. Only crabs I’ve had are the soft-shelled kind from down on the bay.”
    “Hey”—Angel leaned forward, snickering—“I heard it was gonorrhea.”
    “ Merde ,” I said. “How about we not talk about ways in which my dick could fall off even though I have