Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance Read Free Page B

to The Meathook , the bar and whorehouse owned and operated by Los Muertos MC .  
    All went well right up until the time came for payment.
    Standing in the arc lights by the truck at the loading bay in back of the Meathook , Jake told Bogart, “Look, we had a setback. We haven’t got your full payment for the hardware. So. Take something in trade. We’ll make it up on the next run.”
    Bogart was very still, and he spoke slowly and quietly. “We’ve got all of your coke, right? So what do you propose? No offense, but I don’t want any of your weed.”
    “Take two girls, man. I know they could help in your clubhouse. Look, they’re beautiful girls. What’s the problem, man?”
    “Jake, we buy your coke because we’re in the coke business, and yours is the beat damn coke around. We’re also in the weed business, but we don’t buy your weed because we get better weed from elsewhere. Matter of fact, you should buy your weed from us. You’d have better weed. Only, you would have to pay for it. Just like the hardware.”
    Jake looked around at his compadres. Bogart talking to him this way in front of the others wasn’t making him look good. He should have done this in private. Too late now. Bogart wondered if Jake would be dumb enough to make a beef over it. Unlikely, he guessed.
    Bogart went on, his voice still quiet, reasonable, but firm, “We don’t buy your women, because we ain’t in the buying and selling women business. No disrespect, OK? You do your business your way, we do it ours. The girls who work in our clubhouse do it because they want to do it. You’re going to have to think of something else. But you’re fifty short, so you need to think fast.”
    Jake opened his hands, “Man, we been doing business a long time. Why can’t you roll it this one time?”
    Bogart looked back at him through the shades, “There’s a rule; don’t ask for credit, as a refusal can often be fatal. Twenty four hours, OK? And because of out history, I won’t add interest before then.”
    Jake came back at him, “Look, Bogart, take a party with this girl in the back, just for my gratitude. I think you’re going to want to take her home but if you don’t, no problemo.”
    Bogart said, “No problemo.”
    When Jake went inside, Cox said quietly, “Theirs is the best damn coke around?”
    Bogart looked at him through the shades, “Best damn coke at that price on this block.”
    Hacker said, “This girl’s bound to be some skank, too. Some poor wretch from the barrios.”
    Bogart agreed. “I’m only going in there because I don’t want to insult him any more.”
    Cox sapped Bogart on the shoulder, “You don’t? How civil of you, old chap.”
    Bogart said, “Nope. Not before the twenty four hours are up I don’t. He was looking a little tense there. After that, if need be I’ll insult him with a chainsaw.”
    Hacker said, “Pardon me mentioning it but, didn’t we just give them all our RPGs?”
    “Yup. Heavy machine guns too. Oh, wait. Did I remember to load up the ammo?”
    Cox laughed, “You sly fuck! You knew this was going to happen.”
    “Never set out without a fuckup plan.”
    Hacker was rubbing his chin, “You got a plan for how we’re going to square the Norwegians?”
    “I don’t know, Hacks, ask me a few more stupid questions, maybe I’ll offer them your ears.”

Riders on the Storm

    Bogart’s voice was low and hard as he looked the girl over. “You’re Angelica?” Tall, stacked. Beautiful eyes with a hungry look.
    He told her, “You’re a gift. From Jake to me. A ‘thank you’ for good business.” She stood pressed into the corner of the tiny, airless room. He took off the black shades. His dark, smoldering eyes traced her thighs and her tight butt in the frayed little denim cut-offs. Her big, soft breasts swelled and heaved, naked under the loose, low-cut tee as his eyes lingered and feasted on the rise and fall of her quaking curves.
    His wiry black hair, pulled back tight