Page 12 of Enforce This
“Mark is in intensive care. They flew him to St. Luke’s over in the city. He’s lucky to be alive, be luckier yet if he can walk again. Bullet clipped his spine.”
“Jesus. Fuck!” I set off on a string of curses that probably would have sent Aunt Daisy to church twice a week for the next month.
“That’s the unofficial word,” she whispered, staring at me with her kohl-lined eyes.
“If he can’t ride, he can’t lead…” I pointed out the obvious, raising my voice without really meaning to.
“I said it is unofficial,” Crystal countered, raising her voice right back.
She flexed her brows, all but asking me if I wanted to push the issue with her. Of course, I didn’t. She was an old lady. She didn’t have any say in this shit. It wasn’t her worry.
She licked her lips and cast a glance toward Trista.
“How are you doing, Sweetheart?” she gently asked.
“You know… Hun… I’d be a lot better if I wasn’t caught up in this trashy-ass biker drama,” Trista spat.
Laughter spilled from Crystal’s painted lips, and she bugged her eyes at me.
“Eeeewie. You got your hands full, huh, E?” She bit her lip and stared at me.
“You done?”
She must have known I was going to tell her to fuck off depending upon how she answered, so she bumped her nose ever so subtly and asked, “Sure, but can I use the rest room before I leave?”
I rolled my eyes and Crystal accepted it as the answer she was looking for and darted past Trista, slamming the bathroom door hard enough to make us both jump.
“Fucking dope whore,” I scoffed under my breath, before yelling after her, “Hurry the fuck up in there. You need to kick rocks already.”
Chapter Six
Trista
“Make yourself at home,” Eric mumbled, before marching toward the bathroom door and pounding on it.
“Jesus,” I cringed.
“Times up. Let’s go.” He barked, before pounding again.
Crystal jerked the door open and ran her eyes up him like she was contemplating fucking him where he stood. She trailed her fingertips along his kutte and sauntered toward the back door. He gave a disgusted grunt and rushed past her. A series of clicks sounded before he promptly opened the door and shoved her through it.
“Asshole!” she screamed, as he slammed the door and reapplied the various locks.
He marched back across the closet-sized kitchen and snagged his beer off the counter like someone had been hiding it from him.
“Are you that charming to all the biker strumpets?” I quipped, unable to help myself.
“‘Biker strumpet,’” he cried and cackled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “You just called Crystal fuckin’ Nance a biker strumpet. That. Is. Epic. I mean, my brother would probably rip your throat out if he heard you say it, but it is a touching title, for sure.”
“She’s your brother’s wife?”
“Old lady,” he corrected, causing me to wince.
“Why do they let you guys call them that?”
He stared at me and sipped his beer without answering. His eyes were so intense. They were brown, but liquid fire, not that dull shade Doug’s were. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look away.
“What happened to you?” The words crawled out of my throat before I could stop them, and heat rushed to my face.