Chapter Two

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” said a man in a deep growl. “One more sound out of you, and we’ll make it slow and painful, I swear to Christ.”

More muffled sounds – crying? begging? – and another punch. Gabi was frozen in place now, too frightened to move, too terrified to stay.

Should I take a look? Maybe I can get out and call the cops and describe these guys?

“OK, Miguel.” A different man talking now; a second one. This one was quiet, almost friendly, and Gabi immediately knew that he was the one that she really wanted to get away from. “So we need to do a few things. OK with you?”

More muffled screams, sounds of struggling. Another crack, silence descended.

“I’ve always liked you, you know.” The second man sounded amused now. “You played by the rules for a long time, but what you’ve been doing lately? Moving in on Kirk’s territory? Not cool, man. We can’t stand for that.”

Sobs now, more incoherent pleading.

“Shut up.” Quick as a knife-flick, the man’s voice was all coiled up and freezing cold, and Gabi automatically shivered. “You knew the risks when you decided to start selling in Kirk Jensen’s neighborhood. Did you really think we’d never find out? Fuck, man… it’s our job to keep an eye on his interests. You knew that.” He paused. “Hey, Ace, hand me that tire iron?”

“Sure, Trigger,” the first man said, who Gabi assumed was Ace. “Have fun, man.”

Tire iron! Gabi’s eyes widened. She needed to leave. Forget her jacket, forget getting a description for the police, forget everything. All that mattered was getting out in one piece and calling for help. Immediately.

“Aw, just kidding.” Trigger was amused again. “No tire iron, OK?”

Gabi heaved a sigh of relief, thinking it may all still be OK for this Miguel guy somehow, maybe they were just trying to scare him. That was when she heard the gunshot.

“Fuck, man,” said Ace, the admiring tone clear in his voice. “Smack between the eyes as always. Goddamn quick-draw, huh?”

“I just didn’t feel like wasting any more time on the prick. I got some pussy waiting on me back at the club and I want to get there now. Fucking beating a man to death takes too long.”

“Uh-huh. Way messier, too. This is bad enough as it is, and you did it pretty fucking clean.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t call me ‘Trigger’ for nothing. Go grab the mop from the supply closet, and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

Incredibly, Gabi felt total calm come over her now. She knew she was seconds away from being discovered and undoubtedly killed, so this would be an ideal time to lose her shit.

Instead, she took a deep breath, turned on her heels, and almost casually walked out the back door. She closed it carefully and with the smallest click possible, spun around, made a break for her car. Thank God she’d parked two blocks over, so when she started the engine, the sound was lost in the city noise.

Back at the garage, Ace Cuddy stood in the kitchen holding the wet mop that he’d found in the sink, his dark eyes narrowed.

“Hey, Trigger?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come in here for a sec?”

Trigger appeared in the doorway. “What?”

Ace motioned with his chin to the floor. “That’s what.”

The two men stared down at the small footprints clearly marked in the still-damp floor.

Trigger MacGee – President of The Fallen Angels motorcycle club – glanced at his VP. “We got a fucking problem, man.”