Chapter Eleven
TRIGGER
“Where is he?” I parked my bike, slammed down the kickstand, and headed toward the bar.
“Back window.” Park, my Oregon VP, pointed. “Doorman’s got itchy fingers. Last time, I lost my prospect. Don’t want to lose another.”
I nodded and moved in front of him, and they followed.
“Nah, man.” The sweaty guy with cheap sunglasses stepped in my way. “No DRs in this club.” I didn’t break stride. My fingers curled into a heavy fist, and in a blur, I plowed it into the side of the doorman’s head. He crumpled to the ground, and I kicked the door in.
The place went silent. Some scattered, and I could hear the scrape of several guns as they were snatched up and pointed at me. I cracked my neck slowly and stood there to let my eyes adjust. My cut said a lot, and no one wante
