Page 21 of The Biker Alien

The driver places his hands on his hips. “We represent Joey Carpenter.”

I straighten.

Shit. Their Rebel Brothers.

“He is the president of a motorcycle club,” the driver continues.

“Rebel Brothers,” one of the other guys says. He’s the shortest of the three, but he still towers over me. Yes, everyone does, but these guys are so huge that I feel like a midget.

“Joey would like to make a proposition to you,” the driver says.

“Work on our bikes and our bikes alone,” the third guy says. Even his shaved head has tats on them.

“Joey will more than make it worth your while,” the driver continues. “You’ll be well taken care of for your effort.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t really think an exclusivity—”

The driver takes a step toward me. Mouth dry, I try to refuse to back up a step, but when he advances some more, I do take a step backward.

“Why not?” he hisses. “Did you promise that asshole—”

“I made no promise to anyone,” I snap. “I’m staying out of all of that.”

The driver laughs and glances at his companions. “Darlin’,” he drawls, “that’s not how it works. I’m Adan Conti. This here is Nigel Snider, and Jamey Loftis is baldly. We’re the nicest of the Rebels, so if you don’t want to get on Joey’s bad side, and believe me, you don’t want that, you’ll play nice with us.”

“Just agree already,” Nigel says.

“Can I have some time to think this over?” I ask. “I only just learned about Mr. Joey and the rebel Brothers—”

“And the Asshole Armadas. Double As.” Adan snickers.

“Yes, and I… Just give me a second, all right? I’m just a simple girl—”

“It’s a simple decision,” Jamey roars. “Do what Joey wants, and you’ll be safe. As simple as that. Make the wrong choice, and, well, your safety can’t be guaranteed.”

I gulp.

Shit, shit, shit.

Where the hell is Josh?

8

Alec

Hal I have stationedat her place of work, Elden at her house. I haven’t returned to my own house. I’ve been at headquarters, trying to get as much intel out of my people without putting them at risk.

We have to nip this in the bud as quickly as possible.

Honestly, at this point, I just want to take out Joey and his entire operation, but that might not be as easy as it sounds.

Because Joey and all of them…

“You should get some sleep,” Greg tells me.

I eye him. “You should get back to your restaurant,” I growl.

He grunts. “I’m not just a shop owner. I’m an Armada for life, and you need me—”