Driller: Dead Ringers MC Book 1 by Deja Voss

Author:Deja Voss [Voss, Deja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Driller

“How quick can we fucking make this?” Ransom asks. “These guys sketch me out.”

He’s not the only one in a hurry to get back to the house. I’m trying to see the big picture here, trying to fight the urge to say fuck it and hole up with Pearl for the rest of my life and just let this shit sort itself out.

Thing is, the only way I’m ever going to do right by her is getting to the bottom of whatever it is going down with her dad and Stoney. Apparently, the Mules might have some answers. When Stoney pulled me aside earlier, he said one of their guys was doing a deal across the street when the shooting happened. He might be bluffing. It’s hard to say. These guys aren’t exactly an alliance of ours, but we aren’t enemies.

Better to keep the peace and entertain their offer than to straight-up disrespect them.

Still, we’re going in cautious. Ten men deep, everybody armed, neutral meeting spot.

Cully’s is a pretty rough bar, bad part of town, I’m really not sure how it’s even open still. The place has that acrid smell seeping out the front door of old cigarettes, body odor, and something that’s either cat piss or crack, can’t really tell the difference. We gotta make this quick.

Barret, president of the Mules, spots us as soon as we walk in the door and waves us over to the round table he’s seated at. His men are all hardened thugs with tattooed faces and sunken in eyes.

Stoney shakes his hand first and waves the bartender over, asking her to buy the entire bar a round. Cool, calm, collected, my uncle, our president always knows how to command a room, even if the guys at the table are eyeing him with skepticism.

“Have a seat, gentlemen,” Barret says, motioning for us to join him at the table.

“I’d prefer not to,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “We’ve kinda got places to be.”

His gold tooth shimmers as he sneers.

My dad shoots me a side-eye and pulls out a chair. “You obviously got something we want, but don’t think you got the upper hand here, Barret. Y’all aren’t exactly known for being the most reliable sources of intel. What do you want from us?”

“Nothin’ really,” he says. He slowly and dramatically pulls his pistol from the holster under his hoodie and lays it on the table. “Just some upgrades. We’re fully willing to pay you for them.”

My dad grumbles. Even though we have the gun trade on lockdown, we’ve always been extremely picky about who we put them in the hands of. We definitely don’t arm local gangs. Our community has enough of that shit.

“You know we don’t work like that,” Stoney says, taking a seat next to Barret. He takes a long drag from his bottle of beer. “Don’t care how you guys get your shit, don’t care what you guys carry, but that ain’t blowing back on us. Y’all aren’t exactly the best at staying out of jail, no offense.

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