Wring: Road Kill MC #5 by Marata Eros Page A

pussy.” His thick eyebrows rise.
    Silence.
    “Isn't it always?” Snare says out of
nowhere.
    “Yup,” Lariat replies instantly, giving me a
hard look.
    I guess I earned that.
    “Noose tells me you came between a Blood and his
bitch.”
    I bristle. Shannon is not Vincent's
bitch. But I want him to be mine. My hands still tingle from the
memory of her under my skin.
    Viper waits.
    I form my answer carefully. “I was killinʼ road,
on my way to Noose's for some food.”
    “Rose was making pancakes?” Trainer asks with a
hopeful lilt.
    I shut him up with a glance.
    “Fine, fuck,” he says in a sullen mumble.
    I point at him. “You're lucky you're patched in,
or you'd be on cum and piss patrol.”
    Trainer pulls a face of such pure disgust it
cracks us up. When we've finally controlled ourselves I continue,
“I was driving through Kent Station, saw a Blood manhandling a
chick.”
    Viper's shoulder lifts in a clear So?
    I rub a hand over my skull, feeling the bite of
many short hairs needling my skin. “She didn't look like a working
girl. I might have let it slide if I thought she was a Blood flesh
worker.”
    “Hate those fucks. Drugging girls and putting
them out on the street like turning out a cat on a stoop.” Viper's
hate thrums through his voice.
    Lots of assent passes around the table.
    “Love the bitches, but I'm for them having a
choice of who they want to bang.” Storm leans back in the chair,
hands folded behind his head, eloquent as always.
    I shake my head.
    Noose tips Storm's chair back with a finger, and
he falls backward, cracking like an egg on the floor, limbs
scattered and tossed behind him.
    He wails.
    Noose grins as he and Lariat tap knuckles.
    “Boys?” Viper says in a low voice of warning.
Then he turns that Prez gaze on me.
    There's a reason why he's the club president.
He's steel, through and through. He's seen war. Close up. And a lot
of other mind-numbing shit.
    Like us knotters. Noose and Lariat are my
brothers in the club. But we were brothers in war before we landed
here.
    Viper's got that kind of understanding, too.
    “Anyway…” I shoot a glare at Noose, and he flips
me off, shooting me a tight smile. “I knew she wasn't a whore, so I
slowed down.”
    “Why?” Noose asks.
    Dick.
    “She—fuck—she gave me a look, okay?” I toss out
my words like throwing stars. Hoping, they strike any soft
underbelly sitting here.
    Hard eyes stare back, from hard men. There's no
sympathy, only a need for answers.
    “A fucking look ?” Snare asks,
incredulous.
    I nod. “It was like she was speaking right to
me.” I cup my hand behind my ear. How could I ever forget those big
green eyes pleading at me from the sidewalk?
    “What was she saying?” Lariat's lips pull
up.
    Jesus, these fuckers.
    “Help.” My eyes blaze at Noose and Snare.
They’ve got women. They know what I mean. “You know the look,
Noose, right?”
    He suddenly becomes interested in his hands.
    “Right?” I roar into the sudden silence, and his
chin jerks up.
    “I don't want to scout this girl, if she's just
some snatch you want to hump then dump.” Noose shrugs.
    “Have I ever asked you to check anything
out?”
    He shakes his head. “No, but let me tell you
something, pal. When we were fighting together, you were fucking
ice man. Nothing thawed your ass. You were the most neutral fucking
human being I've ever known. So forgive me if you wanting me to
intel some librarian girl is a little fucking odd .”
    Heat rises; my neck's a torch holding my head
upright. I rub my nape, feeling how warm it is, then drop my
hand.
    “Okay.” Viper holds up his hands. “We've
established that this girl—” He waits.
    “Shannon,” I offer, and no one breathes a word.
Better fucking not.
    “Shannon, needs protection, but we also need to
be fucking careful. This is Bloods here. And there's more of them
than us. Even if our charters in Oregon and Idaho—and hell—Montana
help, we're still fucked in the ass without