Page 1 of Two Tricks

The feel of my fist hitting against flesh is such an oddly satisfying feeling. Especially when it’s some cockwaffle who owes an explanation to the leader of my organization. I flicked my wrist to shake off the blood and snot I got from punching the man in the nose.

“Zeek, Zeek, Zeek,” I sang as I walked around the chair he was tied to. “You do realize that the fact that I’m here dealing with this problem means you royally fucked up, right?”

“Dax… please… I didn’t know who they were,” Zeek begged, his eyes as wide as they could be considering they were swelling shut. Blood dripped off his chin from his broken nose and the cut under one eye.

Grabbing a handful of hair, I yanked his head back so he could look me in the eye. Even though I was five foot nothing, having him sitting brought him to the perfect level, and I used that to my advantage. “Here’s the thing—I don’t believe you. Two Tricks’ number one rival comes to you to smuggle their dirty money out of the country, and you didn’t know? The De León cartel isn’t where they are today from making rookie mistakes like that.”

I released his hair and took out one of my daggers from my thigh sheath, flipping it as I started my walk around his chair again. When I faced him, I grasped the hilt tight and slammed the knife into the chair right between his legs, just missing the family jewels.

“You fucking crazy bitch!” Zeek spat out, getting blood on me.

I frowned down at the blood, then looked back at Zeek, my eyes narrowing. “What did you just call me?”

Horror washed over Zeek’s face as he understood what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean to call you that. I apologize. You are in no way a bitch. You’re crazy—but not a bitch,” Zeek back-pedaled, desperate to keep himself alive. But he had done the one thing he shouldn’t, so I stabbed him in the meaty part of his thigh and twisted.

“FUCK ME, SON OF A BITCH! I’ll admit it! You’re right, I knew who they were! They gave me the payment up front and said if I proved to be trustworthy, they would double it next time. I should’ve never made the deal; I knew you would find out. You always find out.”

I patted Zeek’s cheek roughly, giving him a smile. “Thank you for being honest and apologizing for being so rude. Now that I have this valuable information, I’ll let my boys take over.”

I waved a hand to Jeff and Brian, two of my soldiers, signaling them to finish the job. I’d gotten the information I needed, and Wes had already gotten the hard data off Zeek’s computer, so my work here was done. I stopped to wash my hands and arms in the kitchen sink, making sure to remove all the blood. Wouldn’t want to bring any evidence of what happened here as I took the long way back on my new bike.

Pulling on my helmet, I started my new baby up and took off out of the warehouse parking lot. The feel of the wind whipping by me while the sun beat down on my skin made me feel alive, and the hum of the engine between my legs made me smile at the raw power I controlled.

Oh, I’m sure you’re thinking I’m on some sleek crotch rocket in a bikini like all the other girls in L.A. Naw, not me. Nope, I needed something a little more substantial between my thighs. My baby was a stripped-down, blacked-out, Harley Iron 883, customized for more speed and power that could take me anywhere. Or at least outrun any cop that would try and stop me.

The chirp in my ear signaled that I had a call coming in, and I glanced down at my smartwatch to see who it was. The shop. Growling, I swiped to accept the call to my helmet’s audio.

“This better be good,” I demanded. Wes knew not to bother me on a job.

“Kimber’s here,” Weston stated. “She brought a friend who wants you to set up a meeting with Tricks.”

Icy shock ran through my veins at this information. “I’m on my way.”

Hanging up the call, I gunned the throttle on my bike, weaving through traffic as cars honked at me. Showing how much I cared, I flipped them off as I left them in my dust. Why was Devin’s hoebag of a wife looking for me, of all people?

When my twin chose to join the Blackjax Motorcycle Club to be with Kimber, I lost my shit. I of course didn’t find out about it until I’d graduated college, bastard having kept that tidbit from me. It was the first time I’d realized Devin kept a lot of secrets from me, and it eventually caused his death. I’d gotten my revenge on the responsible parties, but it still didn’t change that half my soul was gone, never to be replaced.

Arriving, I drove right onto the sidewalk of our Main Street location. The alleyway next to the building was the perfect place for me to park my bike, and that’s exactly what I did. Tugging off my helmet, I shook out my short pink hair and swung my leg over and off the bike.

Yeah, I might hate motorcycle gangs, but I didn’t hold their actions against the machine.

The door chime sounded as I walked into the tattoo shop, Silver Bullet Ink, that I owned and ran with my best friend Weston. I took pride in my shop and wanted it to be an experience like none other. The walls were dark gray, almost black, with huge black and white abstract paintings I created breaking up the darkness. The waiting area had a white tufted leather couch and two armchairs with a black coffee table in the middle, and the floor contained four semi-private rooms sectioned off with black velvet curtains.

I clomped my leather boots up the steps to the open lounge area outside the office Weston and I shared in the loft, knowing that was where he would be waiting with our guests. I wanted them to know I was coming.

In one of the four vintage, blood-red leather armchairs was a woman with long black hair and bright green eyes looking up at me. Her lips thinned as she took me in, as if she disapproved of everything I stood for. I got that a lot, but ask me if I gave a fuck. She was dressed in a fitted black skirt with a silk cream blouse, her black suit jacket draped over her lap. Everything about this woman reeked of money and privilege, making me dislike her instantly. She rose gracefully from her seat and walked over to me. Even without the four-inch heels she would have looked down at me, but this felt more like a power play.

“Dax, I presume. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Gabriella Rossi, Kimber’s cousin,” she said, holding out her perfectly manicured hand. “Thank you so much for helping to set up this meeting. I know Two Tricks doesn’t meet anyone without an introduction.”

“What shit-for-brains said I would set up a meet?” I snapped as I looked at her hand, then back up to her face. “What would you want with him anyway? You’re not really his type.”

I glared over at Kimber, who was looking far too pleased with herself. She was your picture-perfect trailer trash. Badly bleached blonde hair, tank top that never seemed to cover her stomach, and short-shorts that were frayed at the bottom. To tie it all together, she had on worn-out, calf-high cowboy boots.

I could fucking kill her for bringing this woman to my shop. We never did business here, and she knew it. Kimber was one slippery bitch, always keeping you guessing on her motives. Apparently she’d already promised I would set up a meeting, and miss fancy pants thought I knew about it and agreed to help…. What a cunt.

Gabriella sighed and dropped her hand. “Why don’t we sit?”