The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(31)

“That is not a casual bike fire, my friends. That is one hundred percent f*ck you,” Bobby laughs.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Bull shakes his head, throwing his leg over his hog.

“What the f*ck happened?” I ask, stepping over part of an exhaust pipe.

“I dunno. The damn thing has been leaking fuel, been meaning to get it fixed.” Locks tosses a piece of gravel.

“You leave it running?” Bull asks, surveying the burnt lump of bike.

Locks looks up at Bull. “No, but the engine was hot.”

“Nah, I’m thinking this is a message,” Bobby concludes, kicking at the charred asphalt.

“I agree. Did you piss anyone off?” I wonder.

“No. I haven’t,” Locks snaps, his eyes furrowing with anger in my direction. “However, I have a strong idea someone heard we had the FBI on our ass, and not to mention we let a f*cking rat into our club. That may not sit too well with other clubs,” Locks spits as he stands.

Bull looks over at Locks and glares, and I find myself glaring at him, too. I can’t help but feel protective of Dani, and hearing Locks talk shit about her has me furious. Dani is not a threat; she has earned her trust. Apparently not everyone thinks so, though. I can feel my fingers tighten as the urge to plow my fist in Locks’ mouth for talking ill about Dani circulates through them. I’m starting to question his commitment to the brotherhood here lately.

“It’s a warning,” Bobby states, glaring at Locks.

Bobby is right. This was no accident. This was on purpose, and whoever did this sent it as a warning. They’ll be back again, and by surprise.

We hear sirens sound close behind us, and turning we find a black and white cop car parked feet away. I didn’t even hear the damn thing pull up; f*ckers are sneaky.

“Shit,” Bobby mutters.

“Well, hello, boys.”

Skeeter slams the door shut to the cop car and places his hand on his holster. He’s got short, black hair which always looks like he put way too much shit in it, and a stupid-ass mustache over his top lip. He’s tall and really fast. I know because I’ve had to run from him a couple times. Cops are a shady breed, but when you get a dirty cop, it goes darker than a shade.

Skeeter used to be in our pockets about a year back, but he got greedy. His price of pay-off got ridiculous, and on top of that, he started asking for a percent of our sales. I offered to take the f*cker off the grid, but Bull said it was bad for business. Instead, we moved all our merchandise and stayed clean from any illegal running for a few months. When Skeeter learned we weren’t taking to his demands, he did exactly what we thought he would do, he cried to his cop buddies. Told them we were running guns and dealing drugs and he knew exactly where it all was being held. After a search warrant turned up nothing, Skeeter lost connections in the law enforcement and unfortunately, it put us on his shit list.

“What do we have here?” Skeeter asks, eyeing the scene.

Another cop exits the passenger side of the cruiser. He’s bald, pale and freckled and looks young and frightened by the sight of a bunch of bikers gathered together.

“Gas leak, it’s handled,” Bull states, stepping in front of Skeeter.

“It will be handled when I say it’s handled. Now, step aside,” Skeeter orders arrogantly as he points for Bull to step away as he turns back to the cop-in-training. “Officer Manny, keep an eye on this one.”

“You guys multiply like cockroaches,” Bobby jokes, making me laugh.

Skeeter whips his head in Bobby’s direction. “Watch it, boy.”

Bobby huffs and crosses his arms.

Skeeter walks up to what’s left of the bike and squats down.

“Gas leak, you say? Must’a been a hell of a leak.”

“Yup,” Locks agrees.

“Like I said, it’s handled,” Bull states again, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You guys drive these streets with no regard to others’ safety, going way too fast, disobeying traffic laws. It’s no wonder one of these death contraptions caught fire.” Skeeter talks while spitting chew from the side of his mouth. I watch the nasty spit fling near Bull’s boot, and the disrespect has me seething. I step up ready to go head-to-head, but Bobby pulls on my shoulder, holding me back.

“It would be a day to mark on the calendar if all your shitty motorcycles caught on fire.” Skeeter chuckles as leftover chew dribbles down his chin.

“Are we done here?” Bobby asks, squaring his shoulders in anger.

Skeeter scoffs as he takes in the scene. “This your bike, Locks?” he questions.

“Yes,” Locks replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m going to have to write you a ticket.” Skeeter pulls a notebook from his back pocket.

“For what?” Bull asks with disbelief.

“Unsafe operation of a motor vehicle,” comes Skeeter’s reply while writing on his ticket book.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?” I grit out. Surely he can come up with something better than that.

“You want to go for a ride to the station?” Skeeter asks, puffing his chest out.

I step up to the challenge, ready to throw a punch.

“I think you just assaulted an officer,” Skeeter lies, pulling out a pair of chrome cuffs from his waistband. “You saw it, didn’t you, Officer Manny?” I look over and see a pale Manny looking scared to death at the situation unfolding.