Viper (Hell's Handlers MC 9)

Viper started forward. Fuck if he was gonna let this bastard hurt his woman. “You fucking—”

Sarge’s hand land on Viper’s chest, giving the clear impression to Marco that he was in charge. Fuck.

Looking fucking bored as could be, Sarge shrugged again. “Not really. Like I said, she ain’t my girl.”

Fuck this.

“You put another mark on her and you’ll be shitting in a bag for the rest of your life. Which won’t be long. So, silver lining,” Viper said, shoving Sarge’s hand away as he took a step forward.

Marco’s lips twitched. “The bitch says you have a deal for me. Don’t you wanna clue me in before you gut me?”

Her eyes held the panic of desperation. Damn, he loved this woman. She was smart as fuck and quick on her feet. Sure, she’d bluffed her ass off, but it probably saved her more pain and trauma.

“We do,” he said then looked to Sarge. That fucker was responsible for all this so he could be the one to negotiate their way out of this mess. “He does,” he said tipping his head in Sarge’s direction.

“Ahh, the girlfriend fucker. Did you enjoy her? She’s a tight little thing, ain’t she?”

“Not as tight as she was when she came to work tonight.”

Viper’s eyes fell shut and he blew out a shaky breath. Sarge needed to stop fucking around and get them out of this shit before they all ended up with shattered limbs and severed tongues. Fate for Cassie would make theirs seem desirable.

“Bar’s closed,” Marco suddenly shouted. “You all got two minutes to get the fuck out.”

Muttered curses and slurs could be heard throughout the bar as the patrons scrambled to grab their belongings and get the hell outta dodge. He and Sarge got the side eye from nearly everyone who hurried by. No doubt they were thanking their lucky stars they weren’t in his shoes at that moment.

Once the bar was clear of everyone beside Marco’s employees who’d all moved to guard the exits, Marco tossed the broken bottle on the countertop.

Cassie’s eyes fell closed and she visibly relaxed.

Viper wasn’t so confident their status had elevated.

When her eyes reopened, her gaze connected with his. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, lower lip trembling as tears coasted over her cheeks. They joined the blood dripping from her nose and neck, leaving pink tracks on her tanned skin.

He shook his head once. None of this was her fucking fault. Blame lay squarely with Sarge, and some with him for ignoring his screaming gut all night.

“You have two minutes to tell me the deal. If it sounds good, I’ll take it to Vito. If not,” he made eye contact with Viper and smirked. “I’ll take your girl.” Then he shifted his gaze to Sarge. “You can keep mine either way. The bitch has run her course.”

Cassie’s eyes grew as wide as a full moon. Her head moved back and forth, but this time, her attention lie on Sarge. He had one shot to end this charade and he better get the job done.

“Got a lead on military grade weapons. Shit load of them coming straight outta the middle east.”

What. The. Fuck.

The Handlers were small fish in the large pond of weapons trafficking. Though the prez had been working to up their game, they just couldn’t compete with the big dogs and had yet to transport assault and military grade weaponry. The club did well when all their small businesses were tallied up. Well enough to live a damn good life, but as with most things, men grew greedy and always wanted more.

That was the case with the prez and apparently Sarge. Whether the man was talking out his ass to save Cassie still had to be determined. With Sarge’s hordes of contacts still remaining in the military, this supposed weapons hook up could be legit. Later, he’d have time to decide how he felt about the club expanding their distribution. Moving stolen handguns, shot guns and hunting rifles was one thing. Selling weapons stolen from the US military was totally a different ballgame. One he wasn’t convinced he wanted any part of. One he wasn’t sure most of the club would be interested in. There’d been talk about pulling out of the weapons game entirely. ATF had upped their game in recent years, sending too many low-level distributers to prison for decades.

“I’m not fucking her yet,” Marco said. “Keep talking.”

“We got a good thing going, but we don’t have the reach you do. We realize we can’t compete with you, but it’d be a damn shame to waste the goods we can get our hands on.”

“What’s to stop me from finding out who your contact is and working through them directly? Why the fuck would I want the Handlers as middlemen?”

Sarge laughed. “Your ears clogged? Said they were my contacts. Don’t know why the fuck you think they’d deal with you.”