Dingo (Devil's Fury MC 1) by Harley Wylde

Author:Harley Wylde [Wylde, Harley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIN 009235-02990
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Published: 2020-02-13T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Dingo

Grizzly had read Simon the riot act over letting Mei anywhere near the gate while Trotter was there. Even if the kid hadn’t known the asshole was armed, he should have protected Mei at any cost. While his quick thinking had gotten Demon there before anything worse could happen, it wasn’t enough when the entire situation could have been avoided. He never should have mentioned Trotter over the phone without knowing it was me and not Mei who answered.

Since Beau was still on my shit list, I’d asked Henry to stand guard outside my house in case Mei needed anything. Griz had put Carver on the gate for now with Beau and Simon helping in the clubhouse. We honestly needed some fresh blood. If any of these guys washed out before being patched in, then we’d be short on manpower for the shit jobs the rest of us didn’t want.

Some of the clubs had a barn or warehouse where they persuaded men to talk. I knew a few with underground bunkers for that sort of thing. Thanks to some fairly recent renovations, we now had a room under the clubhouse for those types of meetings. Griz had spared no expense to have the place soundproofed, added a drain to the floor, and a fancy lock that only patched members could access with a retina scan. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but it was understandable. We’d had enough men go to prison, and Griz was trying to protect his club while letting us get the job done our way. Not that this room would have saved Badger from getting locked up. He’d beaten a man to death when he caught the asshole raping a teen girl. Any of us would have done the same.

Now that teen girl was all grown up, and married to Badger. They’d had some bad luck, though. Adalia had lost their baby and it had hit her hard. We’d all worried about her when it seemed like she’d sunk into a state of depression. No one faulted her for it, but I’d watched as Badger tore into anyone who even looked at him wrong. He was so stressed and concerned for his woman that anyone was fair game as an outlet for him.

I glanced over at him. “You couldn’t have kept him breathing a little longer?”

Trotter, or what was left of him, was in a heap in the center of the room. He’d been hit by no less than six bullets. Somehow, he’d managed to stay alive long enough for my brothers to haul him down here, get him to talk a bit, and then Badger had let loose on him. If Trotter hadn’t been the worst sort of man, I might have felt sorry for him.

“Fuck, Badger. What the hell did you use on his eyes?” I asked, nausea welling up at the gruesome sight.

“Blowtorch,” he said matter-of-factly.

That would explain why it looked like his eyes had exploded. They’d probably popped from the heat before the flame even touched them.

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