Heavenly Hacked (Reckless Bastards MC 5)

Lasso put a hand to his wife’s shoulder to calm her down. “Did Vivi find any evidence he coerced the girls?”

“No. The opposite.” She found emails and love letters, explicit images of Blaise and his girl of the moment along with explicit text messages. “They wanted to be with him,” I admitted reluctantly. “But it doesn’t make them not victims. He’s a powerful man with a shit load of money. I think it’s called abuse of power or something.”

“So what you’re saying is that she should protect their illegal secret at the risk of her own life? Don’t be stupid,” Rocky said in an unusually blunt way. “Maybe he promised them things if they sucked his dick. Sick bastard.”

“Am I really being that stupid?”

“Yes. As a former teenage girl myself, I can tell you that I rarely dated a guy my own age. Even he who shall never be named again was eight years older than me.” Ever since shit had gone down with her ex, Rocky refused to even mention the fucker’s name. It made me love her even more for my brother.

I had a feeling that I was being worse than stupid. I was being ignorant. “Shit.” My stupidity could’ve cost Vivi. Big. “I guess it’s a good thing she basically told me to fuck off.”

Rocky laughed, and Lasso shook his head, looking happier than I’d ever seen the guy. “She’s definitely a firecracker,” she agreed and rubbed her swollen belly.

The phone rang, and I picked it up automatically because shit had been so tense for such a long time that every ring could be an emergency. “Yeah?”

“Get to the clubhouse. Now.”

I ended the call. “That was Cross. Something’s up at the clubhouse.” Those were the only words either of us needed to hear to be on our feet and headed toward the door. Bikes revving, chrome glinting under the late afternoon sun and fifteen minutes later we were pulling up to the clubhouse.

Everyone was outside, the guys and their girls plus a few Reckless Bitches. But what surprised me when Lasso and I drew closer was that there were half a dozen Roadkill MC members standing around with their chests puffed out. Looking like they were ready to start some shit.

Lasso strolled into the center of the group “What’s going on?” He stood with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face. “Are the Roadkill boys here asking for coats for winter again,” he joked.

A few Reckless Bastards laughed a little too hard, drawing glares from Roadkill. Their President, White Boy Craig, glared hard as he approached trying to intimidate a big fucker like Lasso who wasn’t intimidated by anyone. “Real fucking funny cowboy. We don’t need shit from you or your club.”

Lasso grinned. “Then what the fuck are you doing here, reserving time for a fucking tea party?”

“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you? How about I knock that smile off your face.”

“How about you try it, dick breath?” Lasso stood taller, giving his five-inch-height difference more of an impact. “Or maybe you’re just trying to get close to me since you’re clearly missing your cellmate.”

White Boy Craig laughed in a maniacal way that often happened before someone snapped but Lasso wasn’t concerned. “Fuck you, Lasso.”

“See boys, he wants a taste of me. Is that why you and your pussies are here? Because we ain’t interested.”

Craig snarled. “You know why we’re here. The money. Rizzoli told us you took it.”

Lasso laughed. “And you believe that songbird?” He looked to Cross and pointed to White Boy Craig. “Can you believe this shit?” Craig pushed Lasso when his back was turned but the big country fucker smiled and turned, slamming his fist against Craig’s cheek with a deadly crack. “I ain’t one of your prison bitches. Touch me again and I will fucking end you.”

Two Roadkill members got in Lasso’s face and the crazy bastard smiled. “Looks like my dance card is fillin’ up here!” He head butted one guy and knocked the other out cold with one fucking punch. That started the shit right up. Fists flew from all directions before the dumb shit Roadkill assholes realized they were on our home fucking turf.

“You’re outnumbered,” I told White Boy Craig. “Stop this shit now before you end up dead.”

“Is that a threat, punk?”

I smiled and got in his face. Guys like him always thought they could bait me by calling me names. “It’s a promise, asshole.

Look around. There are four of us, at least for every one of you. Stick around any longer and we’ll be cleaning your blood and brains out of the asphalt until next summer.”

“Do that and the rest of my organization will rain hell down on this shitty MC.” For all his bravado, Craig’s words were spoken with less fire because the asshole knew he was only alive because we allowed him to live.

Cross barked out a laugh. “How in hell can we be scared of a guy who doesn’t even know what his own VP is doing behind his back?” Oh, shit. Cross was intending to use Vivi’s info now, either to scare Craig or just to fuck with him.

“You’re talking out your ass, Cross. My men are solid.” He pounded a fist against his chest and his crew did the same. Jackasses. “If you had the proof you’d present it.”

Yeah, Craig had a point. I pulled out my phone and texted Vivi. We hadn’t talked much over the past couple of days since our argument, but I knew she wouldn’t punish the whole club because we were having a disagreement. When a full minute passed without a response I began to worry. Maybe I didn’t know Vivi the way I thought I did. Thoughts raced around my mind and every second she didn’t respond worried me.

Was she ignoring me? Or had something happened to her?