Page 49 of Mouse Trapped

“Could be a possibility,” Blade replies thoughtfully. “Didn’t take long for him to bleed out.”

“Screaming the whole time,” Peg adds. “Looked fuckin’ painful to me.”

If Jenkins looked worried earlier, he seems terrified now. I know Blade and Peg aren’t kidding, I’ve watched the enforcer’s handiwork before, and the sergeant-at-arms can have useful ideas of his own. Jenkins can’t know they’re telling the truth, but in his position, I wouldn’t want to put it to the test.

“What do you want me to do?” Jenkins’ eyes flick between us.

“You crashed into a car a few weeks back. Rammed it. On purpose. Put the blame on the woman driver.”

“It was her fault,” he protests. “Bitch stopped in front of me deliberately.”

I glare at him, but keep to my script. “Need you to go to the police and change your story.”

“Change my fucking story? What I said was the truth. Fucking bitch could have killed me. Got a neck brace I’m still wearing for whiplash.”

“You’re not wearing it now,” Peg observes. And fuck me, when I look around, I see it conveniently placed by the front door.

“So you’re running an insurance scam.” Blade’s almost looking impressed. Until that knife’s lowered and in a flash has cut the button off his fly.

Jenkins struggles, but Peg’s holding him tight. “I can’t contradict my story,” he shouts. “Fuckin’ cops would arrest me instead.”

“You can change it. Say it was a blur when you first spoke to them. The light was just changing, you thought she’d be going across, so you accelerated to get through after her, but she stopped on amber. You couldn’t brake in time.”

“Then they’d have me for intending to run a red light.”

“You’ll have to attend a traffic school, but that’s surely better than having your cock sliced off.”

“They could take my licence.”

“First offence? Maybe a thirty-day suspension.” See? I’ve looked it all up. I doubt the cops would do much about it. In their view, his wrongdoing allowed them to catch an illegal immigrant. I don’t give a damn, as long as those charges are dropped. “Of course, there’s no evidence. Just your word. Probably tell you, you should have come forward earlier, but with yourinjurythey’ll understand you were confused.”

Blade turns around and shows him the back of his cut. “You know who we are.”

“Satan’s Devils. I can fucking read. I don’t understand why the fuck this matters to you.”

“That’s none of your business. But if you don’t do what we say, we will be back.”

Have we scared him enough?

“If I do…”

“You won’t hear or see from us again.”

“I’ll know when you’ve done it.” I will, with Marcia’s help. She can point me to the police database where the report of his changed statement will be recorded.

“You’ve got one day,” Blade suddenly snaps. “Tomorrow. If you don’t, we will be back.”

I can’t tell by his face whether he’ll do it or not. As we leave the house, my gut tells me he won’t. When Peg raises his eyebrows, I know he’s thinking the same thing. Man’s faking a neck injury to get a good insurance pay out. Going to take more than one visit, I expect.

Blade pauses by his bike. “Thought he’d piss himself at least,” he tells us, morosely.

“Man did worse than that,” Peg huffs. “You weren’t standing behind him.” He takes in a deep breath as though he needs it. “Crapped himself. Didn’t either of you two assholes smell it?”

“There was something rank.” I glance at the enforcer. “Just thought Blade had farted.”

I get a shove which puts me off-balance, and I stumble a few steps before righting myself.

“How did it go?” Drummer’s standing at the bar with his arm around Sam as we walk back into the clubhouse. I shrug.Who can tell?