Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Dunno who they are. Dunno who coulda done that.”
“Then I’m just gonna assume it was you. That right?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then I want the names of the stupid fuckers who ran women off the goddamn road.”
“Fuck! Get off my fuckin’ neck! Dunno who it was. Just know it wasn’t me.”
“Like that shit wasn’t planned.”
“Know nothin’ ‘bout any fuckin’ plan.”
Rage ground his knee harder into the biker’s neck and made a buzzing sound. “Bullshit. No way your prez didn’t know ‘bout that fuckin’ ambush.”
Psycho grimaced. “Got no reason to do shit like that.”
He made a buzzing sound again, this time adding more of his weight. “More bullshit. Want names. If I gotta pound them outta you one at a time, gonna do that.”
Psycho’s next words sounded a bit strained. “Don’t expect to fuck with me and not get the same in return.”
“Yeah? You’re gonna eat those fuckin’ words along with my fist ‘cause you stupid fucks touched our property.”
Psycho’s eyes filled with understanding. “Must be an Angel.”
Rage jerked his head to the side. “More like the devil. Need three names. You don’t know who the fuck they are? Gimme three anyway. Otherwise, gonna assume one of ‘em was you.”
“Didn’t do shit.”
“Don’t fuckin’ matter. Someone’s gonna pay for hurtin’ our women. You got ten seconds to start namin’ the fuckers. Ten…”
The guy pressed his lips together.
“Nine…”
“Fuck you.”
“Eight…”
When Rage got to his feet, he heard Psycho take a deep breath. Most likely relieved to get that pressure off his throat.
Only he wouldn’t be relieved for long.
“Seven…Six…Time’s up.”
“You said—”
Before he could finish, Rage booted him in the temple, trying to knock some sense into the asshole.
“Fuck,” Psycho groaned, pulling his knees up into his chest until he laid on his side in a ball.
“Names.”
“Ain’t a fuckin’ snitch,” he groaned.
“Maybe not normally, but today’s a special fuckin’ occasion.” Rage stepped over him so he had access to Psycho’s face and warned, “Last time I’m askin’.”
“You ain’t—”
Rage dropkicked him in the forehead this time, making his head snap back. He might have heard his neck crack, too.
Damn. That had to hurt. He grinned. “How ‘bout for every second that goes by, I punt your head like a goddamn football? That gonna help you remember?”
“No.”
“Bet you’re lyin’. Wanna take that bet?”
“Fuck you.”
Rage leaned down. “Nah. I’m about to fuck you.” He pulled his boot back slowly to give Psycho a chance to consider his life’s choices.
When he said nothing, Rage kicked him in the head again. “I don’t get the info from you, gonna get it from one of your brothers. And I’m gonna say it’s your fault they were my next victim. You could save yourself and your brothers.”
“Not by givin’ you any fuckin’ names.”
Rage guessed the man still had some sense left if he figured that out. “Guess you thought I was playin’. This time, just gonna stomp on your face ’til the bottom of my boot leaves a permanent pattern on it. Ready?” He lifted his boot.
“Wait,” Psycho groaned. “I give you the names, then what?”
“Gonna have a word with them.”
“You ain’t gonna tell ‘em I gave ‘em up?”
“Nope. Gonna keep that little secret between us.”
“Prime.”
What a little bitch. Rage better not hear about one of his own brothers breaking so easily. They should go to their fucking grave before giving anyone up.
Rage frowned. “Prime what? Prime rib?”
“Prime is one of them! Cobra. And Bug.”
About fucking time. Rage saved those names to memory. He patted the man’s cut. “Knew you had it in you. Now, where can I find ‘em? They part of the PA chapter?”
“Yeah.”
Was that a little blood seeping from the guy’s ear? Pity.
“Whose idea was it for them to do that shit?”
“Dunno.”
“Funny how you don’t know jack about dick.”
“Gave you what you fuckin’ wanted. Now lemme go.”
One side of Rage’s mouth pulled up. “Now why the fuck would I wanna do that?”
Psycho’s eyes went wide, giving Rage a good view of the man’s blown pupils. Yeah, the fucker might have a concussion.
Damn shame.
Not that Rage was a doctor or anything, so he could be wrong.
“Doubt your club likes snitches. They find out you easily gave up those three names, bettin’ they’d do worse than me. Maybe that’s what I should do. Dump you in front of your Church with a fuckin’ note sayin’ what a backstabbin’ bitch you are. Wonder what it feels like to have your colors filleted off your back.”
Psycho groaned and closed his eyes. “Can keep my mouth shut if you can.”
Bullshit. “Ain’t in a position to negotiate, Psycho.”
He pulled the hidden knife free from his custom-made DAMC belt buckle. Even though it was a small blade, it was good in a pinch.
Using his foot, Rage rolled the trussed-up outlaw biker to his back, then leaned over and sliced off his name patch.
“Keepin’ this bitch as a trophy.” He waved the rectangular patch in front of the asshole’s face. He wondered if the man was seeing double. Or triple.