Force: Blacktop Sinners Mc
“He rolled his eyes at some meathead probie and Bullet, his mullet exceptionally greasy and tangled today, standing before them with their arms crossed over his chest. Bullet did the talking, his voice sibilant and wheezy.
“Do you have the blade, yet, traitor?”
“Funny you mention that,” Derek said. “I’m not a traitor, but the blade we’re still working on. We tried to break into the hospital, didn’t work, but we found something else out last night, and Spike needs to hear it.”
Bullet shook his head. “I let you in and you promise shit won’t start?”
“It never started before early this week.”
Ron held up his hand. “I appreciate you enforcing, brother, but Derek’s still one of us.”
“Traitor won’t be breathing in twenty-four hours.”
Ron smashed his fist hard into Bullet’s eyes, and the other guy groaned as he grabbed it.
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