41
Coming For Her
Chopper Town Biker Bar
“Grinder? You got a minute?” Gears said as he stood facing the g**g president
Grinder looked up through thick sunglasses. He picked up a long neck bottle of Budweiser and tossed it back. When it was empty, he grabbed at the next. He wiped his lip, and dried blood met the back of his hand. He looked at the crusty, dark blood and grinned. “That was a good ‘un. Last night, I mean. Kicked that redneck’s a*s, didn’t we?” He laughed. “Got a minute? Damn, Gears, you think we work in an office?” He laughed harder and this time nudged a sleeping g**g member beside him. When the man didn’t move, he said, “Ha. Look at him. No wonder we call him Baby-Face. Spit it out, dammit.
“It ain’t good, boss.”
“What is it this time? One of our boys get into a scrape
