Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Carter Steele (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

wounded, he didn’t have a bike anymore. After we got some jobs under our belt we’d fix that for him.

Within the hour we were all riding to a local farmer’s coop run by some asshole named Salamander. Everyone in the game had a stupid nickname, but who was I to talk, really?

Patrick’s plan was shit, he wanted us to go house by house of Salamander’s generals and kill them in their sleep. After Dreamer did some digging into Patrick’s rivals and the ways they operated we decided we were going to do things our way instead. That meant cutting out the bullshit and going straight for the head.

The community farm thing was a front for a massive weed business. Salamander not only covered his tracks with sales of legitimate produce but also probably lumped his secret weed expenses into his tax write offs.

Salamander’s plot of land was in the heart of an urban neighborhood that Patrick described as an enemy fortress. Aside from a fence and two guys watching the place it was child’s play, especially because both guys were stoned out of their minds.

“Enemy fortress, huh?” I ribbed Buck after we dealt with both guards.

“Hey don’t look at me, bro. That’s what he said. If we’re being honest, he’s shit at fantasy football, too, so I’d take most of what he says with a grain of salt.” Buck shrugged, then led the way to the second greenhouse, the one marked private.

“More like shovel-full ‘o salt,” I said. “What’s your read on the whorehouse he’s running.”

“Four stars on Yelp. They sucked my dick real good. Would recommend,” he replied sarcastically, then slid his knife out to deal with the deadbolt on the door.

“That’s not what I meant, you fuckwit. You think they’re there against their will?”

“Christ.” Buck stopped fucking with the deadbolt and put his forehead against the door in a sign of exasperation. “Don’t do this, man.”

“Do what? I’m just asking the question.”

“Who gives a shit? That’s not our problem. They’re whores, bro. They knew what they were signing up for.” He turned to me with an appealing tone. “Don’t fucking ruin this for us. In case you hadn’t noticed, we need that prick right now.”

I kept quiet and let Buck get back to work and soon enough he popped the deadbolt. He slowly opened the door. The one guy inside woke up and reached for his gun but caught one of Buck’s knives in the chest and went down in a wheezing lump. There were two folding tables packed with weed that was wrapped in bricks and ready to transport. Mac stalked in a few minutes later with a backpack full of money he liberated from a wall safe in Salamander’s office.

Patrick might’ve been a fucking chump about a lot of things but his intel was good about tonight being the right time to strike. We stole what we could and set fire to the rest. Dreamer strategically placed enough evidence to make it look like another gang was stepping up, not Patrick.

Salamander would retaliate against The Sur Kings and spark a gang war. That would make it a hell of a lot easier for us to slip in and off each faction when they got weak enough.

Destabilizing the hostile regions through guerilla warfare was all old hat for our pres, Dunkin. He was ex-special forces before he retired into his bike shop. All of this was his plan.

Just before dawn we pulled into a motel a few miles outside of town and with the stolen money paid a week ahead for three double-bed rooms. The rooms weren’t anything fancy, but sleeping in a full sized bed was nice after so many days on the road.

Later that day we all piled into Dunk and Mac’s room and called Patrick to come pick up the bricks of marijuana. He had a fence that could sell everything on the down low and with us getting seventy percent of the haul things were starting to look a little more comfortable.

“Hey, Pres.” I called out to Dunk before he’d hung up with Patrick. “Our first job well done, what’ya say we celebrate? I’m thinking delivery and I’m sure as hell not talking about pizza.”

The rest of the guys cheered in agreement and Dunkin only smirked and shrugged.

“You heard the club,” Dunkin said to Patrick. “We’re going to be placing an order.”

An hour later a Paddy’s Pick-Up laundry van arrived at our motel. A mix of familiar and new faces stepped out of the van. A few of the guys had preferences but the rest didn’t or wanted to try someone new. To his credit, Patrick managed to find a handsome, clean cut boy that was right up Yoga’s alley.

“About damn time,” Yoga said walking up to the whore. His leg was still injured so he didn’t put much weight on it. Yoga threw his arm around the slim man for support and led him back to his room. “You’re going to nurse me back to health.”

I found myself waiting anxiously to see her face. Sarah was the last one off the van. Our eyes caught and her face seemed to brighten a little. But before she could walk over Patrick grabbed her arm and whispered something into her ear. Sarah’s gaze fell to the pavement as she nodded gravely, only then did he let her go.

Patrick didn’t seem to give the other whores nearly as much attention as he gave to Sarah. What the hell was going on between those two?

Maybe Buck was right about whatever was going on not being our problem. The guys were still a little pissed at me for losing it on the cartel. The last thing I should do is stir up shit on the very next job we did. I was just going to fuck this girl because I thought she was cute, that was it. It’s none of my business. Besides, in two weeks we’ll be back on the road and I’ll never see