25
Buster
“RUSTY JUST SENT me a text,” I said, staring down at my phone. We’d been sitting in the motel room for most of the day, biding time and waiting for further instructions.
“What he say?” Joe asked.
I typed a response and he answered back. “He wants us to try and grab the broad Friday night. He thinks we’re being paranoid about Frannie having twenty-four hour protection.”
“What do you think?” Joe took a bite of the meat-lovers pizza we’d ordered. It was a deep-dish and he’d already polished most of it off himself.
“That he might be right. Unless someone else is after her and it’s not just us.”
“Maybe the Blood Angels are.”
“I don’t know.”
They blamed us for the deaths of two of their own. It was bullshit, but they were convinced our club was behind the assassinations.
“So
