Deathtrap by L.M. Somerton

Author:L.M. Somerton [Somerton, L.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2015-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

“Longhorns,” Rogue muttered, eyeing the patches on the two men’s scruffy denim jackets. “What the fuck are they doing out of Texas?”

He examined the two riders, trying to spot weapons. One of the two dismounted and strode toward him and Crow, an arrogant smirk pasted on his face.

“Acne sure did a number on him as a kid,” Crow commented.

Rogue choked back a snort of laughter. The guy’s face was more pitted than the track he’d just ridden down.

“Bet he’s never been laid. No woman would go near that without a blindfold,” Crow muttered.

This time Rogue couldn’t help himself. He laughed and tried to hide it behind his hand. The situation was ridiculous. He needed to run off these uninvited guests and get Orlando some help.

Crow didn’t let up. “I’ve seen roadkill more attractive than this guy.”

The man in question was in easy hearing distance. He could not have failed to catch Crow’s comment. It was a deliberate tactic to rile the guy and it was working. The snarl twisting his lips did nothing to improve his appearance. Rogue took a closer look at the patches. The Longhorns’ club badge was a set of horns tipped in blood. There were rockers above and below it, signifying that the club was part of the one-percenter group. On the man’s sleeve there was a pair of green wings and a skull and crossbones. Rogue had no time for men who advertised their willingness to kill. The Wyverns kept their jackets plain on the front and sported the dragon emblem on the back. Their reputation was enough, they didn’t need fancy patches or hollow boasts.

“What the hell are the green wings for?” Rogue muttered to Crow.

“Means he’s had sex with some diseased slag.”

“Fuck. He wants to advertise that?”

“Probably the only female who’d get near him.”

“Desperate even then.”

“Agreed.”

“If you two fags would stop flapping your mouths for three seconds…”

Rogue peered at the biker’s name badge. “Spike. Good to know.”

He nodded at Crow, who took a step forward. He kneed Spike in the balls. Spike went down with an anguished howl. His compatriot leaped from his bike and sprinted forwards.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” He hauled the writhing man to his feet.

“Gonna fucking kill you.” The threat would have had more impact if Spike’s voice hadn’t risen an octave or two.

“Spike here needed an attitude adjustment. He didn’t mind his manners.” Rogue scowled. “Now what the fuck do you jokers want?”

“You are hereby issued with a territory challenge. Jackson Wayne makes claim and offers single combat resolution.”

“Congratulations. Memorizing that mouthful probably took you a week. Who the hell is Jackson Wayne?” Rogue knew exactly who the man was.

In the MC world, Wayne, the leader of the Longhorns, had a reputation for brutality. He’d spent several years inside for aggravated assault and the experience had not done anything to reform him. Instead, he’d picked up a few equally antisocial buddies and taken over the Longhorns after a prolonged and bloody gun battle on the streets of Odessa, Texas.

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