Page 14 of Live Love Steal (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #2)

Iron - Sketch

W hoosh barreled out of the house and aimed at the car speeding away. I knocked his hand wide.

“ You fucked up my shot!” He was a damn good shot. Otherwise , we wouldn’t have kept him on as a prospect. But there was one problem with that.

“ Isobel’s in there.”

“ Who’s Isobel ?”

How to put this as succinctly and delicately as possible? I pointed to the twin of the deal car. “ The owner of that car, and the laptop you took in there thinking it was our shit.”

His face was blank.

There was a reason we called him Whoosh . Everything went over his head. I didn’t have time to break this shit down for him. “ The girl I was fucking this afternoon, okay?”

“ Oh .” He grinned.

Dumbass . “ And you almost shot her.”

“ She any good?”

I shoved him off the back porch. Fucking asshole. “ Get the keys.”

“ Don’t need the keys, I can hot wire?—”

I grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up. “ Go in and get the keys and her laptop.”

We were wasting time. I dragged him inside with me.

Our distributor, Carl , stood with his gun in hand, protecting the cache of drugs we’d just negotiated for.

Correction , I’d just negotiated for. Here I thought those days were long in my past, but apparently, dumbass Whoosh couldn’t tell a laptop bag from a duffle bag.

And that didn’t go over well. I’d walked into a shit show and had to calm everyone’s asses down.

Right as we were settling on terms, the back lights went on.

Since the night had already been fucked seven times to Sunday , I drew my gun and checked on things.

Only to see Isobel being kidnapped by a bunch of punks. Which gave me an idea…

I addressed Carl , “ Do you know which gangs wear purple?” It was a long shot, but I figured Carl knew the neighborhood well.

“ That would be either the Fifth Street boys, or fucking Maleanta’s asswipes.”

He swapped the gender around. Good to know he hated Victor almost as much as I did. “ Does he buy from you?”

Carl hesitated. Everyone bought from him.

“ Cut him off.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. As I packed the cash, I asked another question and held out a strap of twenties to pay for it. “ Where does he live?”

Five minutes later, we parked outside the row house. Not a soul was there.

“ You paid a fucking grand, man.”

Whoosh needed to shut the fuck up. I had the location, descriptions on at least three cars, and a secondary location a bit farther away.

I was about to pull away when one of the vehicles drove past. They were moving slow, scoping the place.

Since they were my only hope of finding Isobel , I motioned to Whoosh to get down.

They were being cautious. They circled the block once, checking for trouble or out-of-place cars. I motioned to Whoosh to take the left while I took the right. The car started up the road, and I stepped into the lane, gun drawn.

Of course, the idiot floored it. Whoosh shot twice, breaking the windshield and hitting the driver just before I dove out of the way.

The car rammed into a set of parked cars, and their alarms started blaring.

I dragged the driver out and down an alley and punched him in the face. Whoosh kicked his back.

Someone’s house lights went on. We had to make this fast. “ Where’s the girl?”

“ Dunno . She bailed.”

Way to go, Iron Girl . “ Location ?” I shoved my gun up his nose, flattening the blobby part against his face.

“ By the restaurant.”

“ Which one?” Whoosh asked and kicked his side.

The gang banger cried in pain but blurted out a name and a set of cross streets.

I needed to know one more thing. “ Why did you take my woman?”

He stared at my shirt, the tattoos on my arms, and swallowed. “ I didn’t take anyone. I swear!” Then , quieter, he asked, “ She’s yours?”

“ Mine . And you do know who I am, right?”

He nodded.

I pressed the gun just a bit harder into his flesh.

“ She backed into Victor’s car. He’s pissed. That’s why.”

“ When was this?”

“ When she came to get her sister, a couple of weeks ago.”

Whoosh whispered, “ What the fuck is he talking about?”

“ Iz rescued her sister, who was stupid enough to date Victor , the asshole, and while doing so, backed into Victor’s car.” I turned my attention to the kid pissing his pants. “ This guy took her.”

“ I didn’t!” he protested.

“ If we had time, we’d fuck him up,” Whoosh stated.

But we didn’t have time. I needed to find Isobel before Victor did, and before the cops responded to the noise complaints.

Although , in this neighborhood, that was not a certainty.

I dragged the kid farther into the shadows.

If Bear were here, he’d snap his neck. But that took a skill I didn’t have.

I flipped him onto his stomach. As I did that, I stripped his coat and wrapped it around the gun in my hand.

“ He’s normally the nice one,” Whoosh leaned down to tell him.

“ Please , man, I didn’t do it. I swear.”

“ You didn’t see us, you don’t know us,” I pressed the fabric and weapon against his skull.

“ I didn’t, I don’t. I swear.”

Whoosh kicked him again. “ Make sure of that.” He grabbed the kid’s wallet from his pants. “ I’m keeping this just in case you forget to forget.”

Keeping the kid alive helped us in two ways. First , it kept us from a murder charge, and second, the kid would eventually blab to someone. Our reputation needed a boost if Victor thought he could take something of ours. But first, we needed Victor .

There was one bright spot. We had a location where Isobel bailed.

And , one block away, we spotted the twin to this car. Victor was in the passenger seat, hanging out of the window like a dog.

“ I know I’m driving, but I bet I could pick him off.”

While Whoosh had a good idea, I needed to get information and find Isobel first. Then we could take him.

“ Meet me behind the restaurant. I’m going to try to lure him back there.”

“ Don’t get killed.”

“ Trying not to.” Risks like this weren’t normal. Usually , we had numbers during direct confrontations. But there wasn’t time to call for reinforcements. Isobel was out there somewhere, probably scared to death, and it was a crap shoot whether Victor or us would find her first.

Not to mention, Bear would kick my ass if I lost her before we were assured she wouldn’t talk.

I strolled down the sidewalk like it was a Sunday morning on the river walk Sprout helped build in Skilletsville .

Sure enough, Victor spotted me and shouted something. He pointed me out to his buddy driving, and they did an illegal U -turn to come at me fast. Victor pulled out a gun.

So much for talking.

I ducked down a path that led behind the buildings and sprinted toward the dumpsters clustered on the far end of the restaurant’s parking lot. They were tucked against a brick wall that blocked access to the alley behind it.

The glow of headlights filled the lot, and my shadow lengthened. I dove behind the bin and pulled my gun.

Victor and his buddy popped out of Isobel’s car.

I took aim and shouted at him. “ Hands where I can see them.”

“ Fuck you.” Victor reached behind his back. I laid down a line of three shots, only one of them actually catching my quarry in the leg. But he fell anyway.

He fired on the dumpster, and bullets pounded the steel hard before pinging off to chip away at the brick wall. His buddy joined in, the shrapnel from both guns now dusting me with debris.

Then boom, boom, and one more. Whoosh .

I peeked out to see if he’d killed them.

Victor wasn’t moving. Damn it. And the other? Shit . He wouldn’t ever move again.

“ You didn’t have to kill them both.”

He shrugged. “ Habit . I blame Sprout , you know.”

“ How are we going to find Isobel now?” And shit , there’d be no finding her if the police were called.

Something large rustled in the dumpster beside me. I spun, holding my gun ready so I could shoot the giant rat I imagined in it. Maybe it was a raccoon? Or bigger? A bear?

That was crazy, but from the noise, it was something.

“ What the fuck? Is someone in there?” Whoosh pointed his gun at the dumpster.

“ Help ! Get me out of here.”

That sounded like Isobel . I flipped open the lid.

There she was.

Looking beautiful, despite also looking worse than a proverbial drowned rat. There was something stuck in her hair. And her white shirt was stained brownish pink. Was that blood? She stuck out a hand.

There was indistinguishable goop on it. Something hung from it. She flicked it off and held her hand out again.

“ Gross . Was that a noodle?” Whoosh took a step back and gagged. “ I’m never eating spaghetti again.”

“ You and me both.” Isobel grabbed onto the hand I held out. But she was slimy, and her grip slipped. She fell on her ass. The garbage bag she’d landed on broke open and sent a wave of pungent rotted cheese and meat odor through the alley.

This time, I grabbed her by the collar and pulled her out.

She stood, dripping something greasy and holding both hands out like she was afraid to touch anything. “ Disgusting doesn’t describe this.” She ran to a patch of grass and threw up.

I stared at the dents where bullets had pounded into the bin. If it had been built cheaper, or the steel thinner, or if they’d had higher caliber weapons…

I’d have lost her.

Whoosh , for once, was thinking. “ Dude , we gotta move. Can you drive that one?”

Right . Our stolen car. The vehicle I’d modified for drugs. We couldn’t let it fall into the hands of the police. I grabbed Isobel’s hand and pulled her toward the car. I told Whoosh , “ I’ll follow you. This one has plates.”

He nodded, but hesitated. “ Where ?”

“ Dipshit . What was the plan?”

“ Oh , right. See ya there.”

“ My car.” Isobel reached toward her car.

“ Do you want to ride with Whoosh ?” She probably would, seeing as I’d caused her troubles since well before this morning.

She looked down at her ruined clothes. “ No . I’m going to fuck up your car.”

That was my iron girl.

When had I gotten possessive? And worse… how was I ever going to let her go after all this?

I knew one thing— Bear wasn’t going to scare her any worse than I already had. And on the heels of that, I also realized I owed her. The club owed her.

And repaying that debt started now.

“ Get in, roll the windows down, and I’ll be right there.”

“ Key ?”

I gave her a look.

“ Right . Duh .” She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “ Keys ? We don’t need no stinking keys.”

Good to see she still had a sense of humor.

I checked on Victor . His pulse was thready. As I touched his neck, he stirred. I caught sight of the gun in his hand almost too late.

Reflex had me reaching for my weapon before I could think. And a second later, there was no walking back my action. He was most certainly dead now.

Whoosh’s eyes went a bit wide. He stared at Isobel , who’d seen the entire thing. She was shaking.

Fuck .

I sent Whoosh the order to get moving and opened the door for Isobel . “ Well ?”

She stared at the open door, then me, then at her clothes.

Her chin went up. “ Thank you.” She slid into her seat as if we were on a date, and she wasn’t covered in disgusting slime.

I had a momentary vision of her wearing something slinky, doing the same motion of that pivot with a sexy leg cross, and the little shuffle of activity women do while they wait for you to close the door.

It was mesmerizing. That would never happen, but a man could dream…

“ Dude ,” Whoosh pulled up in Isobel’s car. I jumped in my side and followed him.

Isobel wasn’t talking.

How should I break the ice? I’m sorry I killed him. Naw . I wasn’t sorry at all. I’m sorry I killed him in front of you. That was the truth, but no woman wanted a lame apology like that.

“ Are you okay? Hurt ?” That was a good place to start.

“ I … bruised a little. I think I …” She gagged a little and hung her head out the window to get fresh air.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stench. My eyes were watering. “ The club has a shower.”

Two , technically, but one was in Wolf’s office.

And no one but him or Tits used that one.

Although , there was a problem with the larger one.

It didn’t have a door. Clothes were another issue.

I doubted she brought extra. I got on the phone once we were far enough away from the scene.

“ Smoke , I need clothes. Girl clothes. Not Poppy -sized. More Lily -sized. Maybe … an eight?” I glanced at Isobel to confirm.

She glared at me.

“ Six ?” I corrected.

“ Which is it?” He growled.

Isobel rolled her eyes. “ A size six. I’m guessing.”

She stared forward and nodded once.

“ Bra size?”

No fucking clue, except perfect. “ Perfection .”

He snorted. “ Is this for the chick you had earlier?”

“ Like there’d be another?” Jesus .

“ Ha , just checking, man. Hey , Iz , what’s your boob size?”

“36C,” she replied.

“ Got it. Sketch ?”

“ Yeah , man?”

There was a pause before he answered. “ As Jackson would say… Fucking - A .” He laid extra innuendo into his words.

“ Go to hell.” I ended the call because Iz didn’t need to hear his locker room bullshit. She needed a shower, clean, comfortable clothes, her laptop, her car, rest, and her life back. Only some of that I could provide.