Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“I still have a week left,” Devos said.

Scott inspected his fingernails—blunt and uneven on rough, calloused hands. Nothing like Devos’ soft-filed ones. “You do.”

“So, uh, why are you here?”

“You like going to have someone file your nails and shit?”

Devos blinked. “What?”

“Never really got the appeal.” Devos couldn’t keep up with the conversation switches. Scott lived for this shit. Confuse and overwhelm before attacking, similar to tactics he’d used in combat. Only now, he didn’t get to play with the fun weapons, but psychological warfare had its own perks.

He dropped his feet to the ground. “I’m hearing some concerning shit,” he said as he slapped his palm on the desk, making Devos jump.

“Wh-uh, what do you mean?”

Scott stood and began to explore the office. “Well, for starters, I hear you don’t have the money to pay us back.” He picked a small modern knick-knack off a metal stand and pointed it at Devos. “And you promised us you’d have the money and more. Remember?” Grinning, he set the ugly thing down in the wrong spot.

Hard.

So. Much. Fun.

Devos’ eyes bugged. The stupid piece of marble probably cost as much as they’d lent the idiot. He wanted to jump up and return it to its rightful home. Scott could feel the uncomfortable need to fix it coming off the guy in waves. But Scott intimidated him, so he kept his ass in his chair. “Yes, I remember. And you don’t need to worry. I have the money. Y-you’ll get it on time. Next week.”

That subtle reminder of how he still had seven days to get his shit together had Scott laughing. “Oh, great. Phew,” he said, placing a hand on his chest with a dramatic sigh. “Cuz a little alligator told me you might have given some of that money to Lobo. You know, maybe to have his guys harass our women in public. Keep us stressed and focused on what that bastard’s up to. If we’re too busy dealing with Lobo, we might give you a pass on returning the money on time.”

Devos paled. Bingo.

Lobo was a small-time criminal, dreaming of making it big in the outlaw world. Basically, he wanted to be Curly, so he’d teamed up with some of the guys in the prez’s former club. Guys like Dante and Rag, the fuckers who’d hassled Brooke and Olivia. Lobo didn’t take it well when it became clear Curly had no intention of reconnecting with those motherfuckers. Poor guy wasn’t man enough to handle a little rejection from the club.

Lobo became a prickly thorn in the MC’s side. Since he wasn’t invited to join, he’d decided to fuck with the Handlers instead. A few months ago, he’d kidnapped Maverick and his ol’ lady when they were visiting Florida. He knew the Handlers were in the business of loan sharking and probably approached Devos with a little deal to fuck with the club. It bugged the hell out of Scott to think this guy might have used Handler money to pay Lobo to harass the women. Liv might annoy the fuck out of him, but he’d kill Devos before letting him hurt her.

He walked behind Devos’ desk and kicked the seat of his fancy office chair. It spun in Scott’s direction. He caught it by the armrests and loomed over Devos. “Did you pay Lobo’s henchmen to harass Curly’s ol’ lady? M-my ol’ lady?”

He’d nearly fucked that up. Christ, saying he had an ol’ lady, in general, was weird as hell. And to pretend Olivia was that woman?

Hello, mind fuck.

But even he could admit she’d look hot as sin in a Handlers’ cut with those tiny denim shorts she’d worn at breakfast.

Devos shook his head so fast, his cheeks rippled. “No! No. I didn’t do that. You’ll have your money. One… one week. I’ll have the money. I swear it.”

Scott stared him down. A bead of sweat rolled from Devos’ temple. “Good to hear. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know what’ll happen to you if you’re late.” He grinned a smile he’d been told looked maniacal. Whatever worked. “See you next week, bud.”

He patted Devos on the cheek, not quite as hard as a slap, but more than a friendly touch. Then he strode toward the door. About halfway there, Scott spun back, snapping his fingers. “Oh, one more thing.” He lowered his voice to a deadly tone Deke used to call his oh shit voice. “I find out you had a hand in scaring my woman, and it won’t matter if you pay the money back tenfold. I’ll cut off your balls, paint ’em gold, and give them to my ol’ lady to wear as earrings. She likes gold.” He winked. “She’s classy like that.”

Any remaining color leeched from Devos’ face. He swallowed hard.

Scott gave him a sunny smile. “See you in a week.”