Scars stared across the table at Dawson Kinney, President of The Blood Crew, torn between normal, everyday hate, and bitter, corrosive, gut-churning hate.
Dawson, his ex-MC-brother, was a man that once upon a time, Scars had risked his own life for, without hesitation or regret. A man who’d betrayed the club, broken away and started his own MC, taken some of the other Road Devils with him. A man who’d picked up all of Kirk Jensen’s dirty contracts, the same ones that Wolf had extricated the Devils from with such pain and precision.
Dawson was a traitor. A liar. A f*****g snake in the grass.
He was also up to some serious s**t-stirring, if the word on the street was right – and that’s what Scars and Wolf were here to find out, if at all possible. Not that they expected Dawson to roll ov
