Page 3 of Biker's Enemy

Eugene lunges forward holding a large butcher knife in his hand. I slam my door immediately, squeezing his hand in the frame, but not hard enough for him to drop the knife. He grunts and forces the door open. I take a couple of quick steps backwards before losing my balance.

It hurts like hell when I fall. The pain sears through my hips and back and I nearly black out for a second.

Eugene lunges forward wielding the knife with every intention of hurting me. I can see it in his eyes even if I have no explanation for it…

He wants me dead.

Two

CASH HOLLINGSWORTH

Ibought a new place in Sedona two weeks before dad died. $2.7 million adobe style house in the most spiritual part of Arizona, but still close to the highway so I can get to the clubhouse and run the Western branch of our family businesses.

He was so fucking happy about the house.

“It’s about time you give me grandkids,” he said when I told him about the house, as if houses come built in with kids and a family.

“I’m not seeing anybody,” I remind him. “No kids. No need for them.”

That was our last conversation on the matter, which I don’t think ended on a sour note, just not on a good one. Dad will never get to meet his grandkids if I ever have them.

After the funeral, I head back out to the house, but I have a bad feeling the second I get out there that I won’t be there long. It’s just the taste of trouble in the air. I try to put the worry out of my mind but then… shit just keeps happening.

We handled the situation with the cops, we built our new clubhouse, we should be on our way out of trouble and it’s the perfect time to settle down. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that it doesn’t matter how much shit settles down, trouble keeps following the club.

Our latest problem has been related to the Shaws… I just hope I’m not the only one the boss sends all the way across the country chasing some runaway.

Southpaw calls.

“I sent Jairus and Jotham to track down Oske,” he says without much of a formal greeting. “But I need you to head to Sante Fe”

“Why?”

“Because. The club needs money. I need you, Hunter and Gideon to work out a deal,” Southpaw says. I love Wyatt and he’s always been a brother to me, but that man has absolutely no understanding of finance.

“What type of deal?”

He sounds immediately frustrated with me.

“You’re the businessman, Tanner. Something that can get us $750,000.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “Okay… I’ll have to give it some thought.”

I pace my bedroom a few times when I hear my loud, long, sing-song doorbell polluting the house with noise from downstairs.

“Visitors?” Southpaw asks. “At this hour?”

I was thinking the same thing. I’m not expecting anyone, either.

“Dunno who it is.”

I put on my slippers and walk across the cold stone downstairs. No lights on outside. Strange. I have motion sensors out there.

“Right,” Southpaw grunts. “How fast can you get the money?”

“Clean? It’s going to take at least three months to clean that much money. As for getting it in the first place… I’ll need to make some calls.”

I get to my front door and it’s eerily quiet except for Southpaw’s breathing on the other end of the line. He sounds like a thirsty dog, but I keep that thought to myself.