Page 125 of Shadow's Surrender
“It was my dad’s idea. I didn’t want to do it. He was obsessed with Scarlett and me hooking up. I told him I didn’t want any part of his plan.”
“Who threw the tire iron?” Shadow asked.
“Jonah,” he said quickly.
Shadow shook his head. “Wrong fuckin’ answer.” He struck another blow.
“Fuck!” Warren rubbed his chest. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“That’s funny ’cause your pussy friend’s saying it was you,” Cruiser said.
“What?” Warren gasped.
“That’s right, asshole. Your buddy’s having the same conversation with some of our friends. It’s like we’re all just having a party.” Axe laughed.
“He’s lying. He did it.” Warren shook his head. “I wouldn’t have done something like that.”
“That’sexactlywhat a pussy like you would do.” Shadow looked at the other bikers. “Can you believe this fucker gave up his dad”—he snapped his fingers in front of Warren’s face—“just like that.”
“Loyalty isn’t something you’re good with, is it, asshole?” Helm smacked Warren in the back of the head.
“Since I don’t know for sure which one of you fuckers did it, I’ll hold you both responsible.” Shadow reached behind him and took the tire iron from the waistband of his jeans.
Sweat dotted Warren’s hairline. “No, please. I didn’t do it.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cruiser yelled.
“Let’s get this shit over,” Shadow said, gripping the metal rod.
Axe, Helm, and Cruiser grabbed Warren and held him still while Shadow swung hard against Warren’s legs. The cracking of bones blended with Warren’s cries. The three bikers released their hold on him and he fell to the ground, groaning and writhing.
“Time to get the hell out of here,” Cruiser said.
Shadow bent down on his haunches next to the asshole. “Payback’s a fuckin’ bitch, isn’t it?” Then he stood up and tucked the weapon back in his waistband.
The men hurried out of the garage and blended into the night as they made their way to Helm’s SUV parked four blocks away. Axe sent a text to Rock so he could unscramble the security cameras, then the men settled into the vehicle and drove back to the clubhouse.
By the time the other bikers returned, Shadow was on his third shot of whiskey. The mission was a success: the two fuckers had broken legs, and the old man would sport a black eye and some bruises in the morning, and his car was primed for scrap metal.
Justice had been served. Outlaw bikers took the adage “An eye for an eye” literally. If someone messed with one of them, that person messed with the whole club. Retaliation was the answer to a wrong done to a brother.
It wastheirworld andtheirrules.
Nothing else mattered.
