He grinned. “Can you talk, Irish?”
“What? Irish isn’t a language,” she snickered. “And yes, I can speak some Gaelic.”
“Come here.” He wrapped his hand around her neck, underneath the heavy curtain of her hair he’d come to love. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “Lay a suggestive phrase on me.”
She giggled. “What do you want me to say?”
“Anything you want, baby.” He kept massaging her neck.
“Alright then.” She rose on her tiptoes and whispered a few lyrical sounding words in his ear.
His muscles contracted and he shuddered. “Yes to everything you just said.”
She laughed. “You don’t even know what I said.”
“I’m good at reading between the lines.” He winked. “Give me.” He tapped his lips and she moved closer. Their mouths met and clung as he poured every ounce of emotion he held in his chest for her. With the way things were shaping up, this might be all the last moment they had together. The thought made him increase his efforts.
Arty moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her weight against him.
They parted and he nipped at her bottom lip, breathing heavily. “Don’t forget who makes your knees weak.”
She gripped his cut. “Impossible, when you’re in every other thought.”
“Only every other? I better work on that.” He winked.
She slid her hands down, releasing him. “Be safe?”
“Always. I’ll call you when I can.” He stepped back and walked away without looking back, tucking her in the back of his head as he donned his President persona. There was no room for kisses and cuddly thoughts now. He had an asshole to kill and traitors to bring down.
An hour later, he walked into the clubhouse and all eyes turned to him. “What the fuck you got for me? The time is ticking down gentleman.”
Hack stood up. “Last I could tell they were living about two hours away in the city of Rolly. They set up a club and shit was good. Well…in their minds. They were into all kinds of shit, flesh peddling, gun trading and drugs.” He shook his head. “The exact opposite of what Dueling Devils stands for.”
“So, why the fuck did they migrate?”
“I’m not sure what happened. Reef got killed, the club got shaken down and shit went quiet. They must’ve crossed the wrong person.” Hack shrugged.
“So, this fucker wants to reclaim a crown that he thinks should’ve been his.” Demon shook his head. “Any word on why they’re moving now?”
“Because the sky is blue? This dude is fucking nuttier than a jar of peanut butter. He’s got a rap sheet as long as am I tall. The dude just goes into berserker rages unprovoked. Most of the people in the reports never even saw it coming. The dude took offense to something they may or may not have done and unleashed,” Hawk paused. “I don’t think he’s right in the head, Pres.”
“Well, no shit, we knew that,” Demon said.
“No…Reef wasn’t very nice after the break, according to what I read. He fucked him up, probably bred him to hate you. Way I hear it, no matter how much territory they claimed, or how much money they made, it never compared to Dueling Devils. They had members going Nomad left and right before shit went dark for them.”
“You think it was an inside job?” Demon guessed.
“Very likely. You treat people like shit long enough, they’re going to rise up and revolt on you.”
“And his son was probably leading the group with a fucking torch in his hand.” Demon scowled in disgust. “The shit just keeps getting more fucked up at every turn. We got anything on him that’s going to be useful?”
“Actually…yes. He bought a warehouse a few months ago I think we should check out.”
“After we create a little diversion.” Demon grinned.
“You got an idea.” Lefty said. “And judging from the serious case of crazy eyes you’re rocking, it’s likely to get us all killed.”
“No, I’m saving those for the battle.”