His Bold Heart (Death Lords MC 7)

“Riot,” Chelsea’s new friend calls out. The slender guy stops and half turns toward her. Resignation and hope war on his face lit up by the street lights.

“What is it Mandy?”

“Come home with me.” There are tears in her voice.

My chest tightens in response. Goddamn, I fucking hate tears. I am fucking useless against them.

“I’ll meet you there. Just give me like a half hour. Maybe an hour.” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice. It matches hers too.

“No. Right now.” Chelsea whispers something to her but she jerks away. “You need to come right now or there will never be a chance for us.”

“You fucking that real estate guy?” Riot growls, still not full, looking at Mandy.

She pales. Her breath puffs out like tiny smoke rings from the cold. “He’s nothing to me. Just come away with me. Let’s go back to what we had. It was fun. We drank, partied, had sex.”

He sucks the lower lip into his teeth. “We can still have all that.”

Distracted by the girl, his grip on Moose loosens. Moose takes advantage and wrenches out of Riot’s grip. Abel sighs and strides forward to help Big bring Moose down.

“We gotta go. Chelsea, get the truck.” I throw her the keys.

“You just do whatever your man tells you too?” Mandy sneers, her once pretty features are mucked up by the running mascara and the ugly curve of her lips.

“Mandy, honey, why don’t you come with me. We can get some coffee. When Grant and the boys are done, they’ll come get us.” Chelsea beckons her with a hand but Mandy backs up like Chelsea is diseased.

“No, I do not want to be part of a blood bath. I do not want to worry about where every penny is coming from. I just want a regular life.”

“Then fucking go. Go find your fuck head accountant or whatever and have a boring-ass beige life. I’m done with you,” Riot shouts.

“Truck, Chelsea,” I holler. I’m done with this whole shitshow. It’s fucking cold out and I want to take care of the Moose business and take my girl home. It’s been a long-ass day.

Chelsea throws one more look at Mandy and then turns away, hustling down the street toward the truck. I see a taxi across the street and wave him over. Leaning in, I hand him a three twenties. That should easily cover wherever it is Mandy needs to go.

“Mandy, here’s your ride. Go home.”

Sniffling, she climbs into the cab. “There’s something wrong with you. All of you.”

“Maybe so, but we’re all adults and this is what we’ve chosen. You’ve got a different route and that’s fine.”

“Your girl is too sweet to be part of this mess.” She slams the door shut.

I slap a hand on the roof of the taxi and point at the driver who rolls down the passenger window for me. Leaning down, I stare that girl straight in the eyes so she sees how serious I am. “You stay the fuck out of my business little girl. Chelsea’s been mine since she was fourteen and she’ll be mine until the day we both die. Don’t fuck with shit you don’t know nothing about. I don’t care if you are friends with Chels. She needs them. But you fuck with her in any way and you’re done. Do you get me?”

She stares at me wide eyed.

“I’m going to need a verbal response here. Do you get me?” I repeat low and hard.

She nods slowly. “I get it,” she says quietly and then covers her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping.

I tip my chin up and then gesture for the cabbie to take off.

“Problem?” Abel asks.

“Don’t think so.” I rub my chin as I watch the tail lights speed away. “Where’s Moose?”

“Duct taped and stuck in the back of the truck.”

“We going to bring him home and stick him with Paulson?”

Abel grunts. “Seems like the right place for him.”

“Well that should scare the piss out of Moose, eh?”

“Think so,” Abel answers cheerfully.

“Let’s take care of business and go home. Sorry you aren’t getting laid tonight.”

“It’s all good. I got the number of a couple of girls so maybe I’ll follow up with one of them in a few days when I’m not worried about watching my back.”

“Good call.” I slap him on the back. “See you at the Misery club.”

The ride from the bar to the club did wonders for Moose. He is all kinds of talkative when we pull him out from the bed of the truck. I sent Chelsea home since all the members of the Misery club were in the kitchen of their clubhouse. Junior, me and Moose are sitting at the table. The rest of the members are standing around the room, watching the proceedings. Half of them probably have their hands on the butt of their guns.

“They took her.” Moose admits. “They took her and they won’t give her the meds unless I keep delivering them the goods but the cook’s wife got shot and then their lab blew up and now I’ve got nothing.”

Junior curses and backs away from the table. He grabs his neck and stares out the window. I spare the young president a glance and then renew my focus on Moose.

“Tell us how Chief Schmidt from Fortune is involved.”

“Up until a couple of months ago he and Trainor were producing some of the best meth this side of the Mississippi. When Trainor’s wife found out, she threatened to turn him in if he didn’t stop. She was afraid of people finding out but once you’re in, you’re in. Trainor told the Henchmen that he was done and they killed his wife.”

“Now what?”

“They want him to start cooking again. I told him that if he didn’t, he’d be next. I’m his keeper. The boot on his neck. If I got him back into cooking again, I’d get my sister back. They were supposed to give me the hand off location and time.”

I push the paper toward him.

“You were following me? Motherfucker, you have my fucking money!” The chair legs scrape against the floor as he leaps to his feet. He lunges toward me but Big and Abel hold him off.

Junior pushes them both away and hauls Moose up by his collar. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“What are you going to do Junior? Kill me like your old man?” Moose screams in his face. Over their heads, I see Abel’s eyebrows raise slightly. Junior killed his old man?

“You stupid fuck.” Junior pushes Moose against the closest wall and presses a forearm against Moose’s windpipe. No one stops him. “I cou

ld kill you right now with my fucking hands.”

“This isn’t helping Mia,” Moose chokes out.

Junior keeps up the pressure. It’s not good for any of us if Moose is taken out yet but this is Junior’s show and I’m not going to step in. We’ll figure it out if Junior decides it is time for Moose to go. So we wait. I glance at my phone. Almost one in the morning. I wonder what Chelsea is doing. Is she showering? Did she go straight to bed? Is she sitting up worrying about me?

I start to text her but Junior’s control creeps back in and he throws Moose onto the chair. I tuck my phone away. Time to pay attention.

“What more do they want from you?” Junior asks.

“More meth. What else?” Moose drops his head into his hands, defeated.

“Do you have it?”

He shakes his head. “Trainor hasn’t cooked up anything. He’s too fucking scared.”

“How much do they want?”

“It’s a pound every delivery.”

“What’s that work out to?” Abel asks. Good question. Since we don’t deal with drugs, I have no idea what the going rate is.

“About fifty grand in street value.”

Abel whistles through his teeth and there are a bunch of unhappy rumblings from the Misery crew.

“I’m guessing you guys don’t have that kind of extra cash,” I say casually.

“Does it look like we fucking do?” Junior throws his arm out. “We’ve been operating on fumes since—” he breaks off.

“Since what?” Now we’re getting somewhere. “Either you trust us to have your back or you don’t,” I tell him. “I don’t care what you guys were doing before. I don’t really give a shit that Moose is trafficking meth. What I want to know is what the hell happened to the Misery club and do I need to be worried about my brother Abel here or my old lady Chelsea. Is this going to spillover to the Death Lords? That’s what I care about, not what illegal shit you all are into. Abel and I are ready to back you with our guns and whatever else we can provide. I think your plan to take the interstate is stupid as shit and we should take the backroads, but if you want to cruise down I-94 with a cargo full of hot goods, that’s what we’ll do.”