Shades (Reckless Souls MC 3)

My smile fades when I catch sight of two fucking Iron Kings watching me. Hell, they were doing a hell of a lot more than watching me. It looks like they were waiting for me, which is bad fucking news for me.

It means they know now, or least, have an idea that we do business with Braden. They might not know what that business is, but now that they’re on the scent of things, this place might not be a safe spot to clean and hide our cash.

Shit.

I slide the sunglasses down over my eyes, grip the envelope of cash tighter and stroll toward my bike as if nothing is wrong. Nothing at all.

What the fuck are they doing here? This place is supposed to be safe, and I know damn well they didn’t follow me. I made sure of it.

That still doesn’t explain their presence at the church, and the idea troubles me all the way to my bike.

“Hey, asshole,” one of them calls to me. I move on without stopping for a beat. I don’t want these fuckwads to think they got to me.

“What do you think you’re doing around here?” he says.

Then, my spine stiffens at his words, well, not at his words exactly, but how close the assholes are to me. Instead of answering, I lengthen my strides until I’m at my bike. I have almost no time to shove the money inside the top box and lock it before the first blow hits me in the back of the head.

“I asked you a question.”

The voice is angry, and another blow strikes, but this one sends me down to one knee.

I look up to see where the other asshole is standing, just so I have my bearings and prepare myself for a two-against-one fight.

One guy stands right behind me. As I move to stand, he steps in for another sucker punch, forcing me to put my hands on the ground and sweep his legs from under him. I jump to my feet while he’s on his back and stare down at the baby-faced fucker.

“The question is, what the fuck are you assholes doing here?”

“None of your fucking business.” The other one with the meaty fists and red cheeks steps forward, chest puffed out and shoulders squared. He says nothing else, just all up in my face, staring to give his buddy a chance to get to his feet. I jab him square in his fat jaw.

“Same goes,” I growl and prepare for another hit. The baby-faced fucker barrels at me, full speed, with his shoulders leading the way. One shoulder crashes into my stomach, and we both tumble to the ground.

These fuckers have plenty of fucking energy, but I’m pissed-off, and right now, that’s my only advantage. I take a few shots to the ribs and stomach, returning more than a few to the side of his head. I land an elbow strike to the back of his head, and he rolls over in pain.

Fuck, I’m getting old.I’m out of breath, and we haven’t been fighting for more than five minutes. I barely have time to suck in a few breaths before the meaty-fisted motherfucker puts his big, booted foot in my stomach, and I’m back on the goddamn ground again.

“Answer the fucking question.”

His words come out on a growl, but that fucking boot lands kick after kick in my midsection.

“Goddammit,” I growl and grab his foot to jerk it back against him. The move leaves him unbalanced, and he falls over. This time I get on top, hammering my fists into his face and chest.

I hear someone mutter, “Shit!”

Baby Face sucker punches me, and I fall off his friend. Being on the ground puts me at a huge fucking disadvantage, and I might be crazy, but no one has ever accused me of being stupid.

Knowing when I’m beat, I curl into myself to prevent any serious injury while they kick at my back, my ribs, even my fucking head.

At least the money is secure. That’s the only thing I’m thinking about while two fucking monsters beat the shit out of me. The money is safe even if the guys are going to give me major shit about this ass-beating.

I don’t know how long I’m curled up like a fucking baby there in the church parking lot, but eventually, the blows stop coming, and the pain starts to subside.

In the distance, two bikes roar to life, and my breathing returns to normal.

The money is safe.

I’m safe.

Those motherfuckers are dead meat.