Hostage (Predators MC #3)(9)

By: Jamie Begley

She didn’t flinch when Hennessey pulled out a gun from under his leather vest.

“Why is the only other black brother dead?”

“I caught DJ calling Striker, telling him to show up early. He was going to take the money and disappear before you and the brothers could get here. If I didn’t try to stop him, he would have taken off with our money.”

“He’s lying,” Penni found herself saying then found herself shoved into a chair. Cruz placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Ricky had taken a step toward her, but Hennessey blocked him before he could reach her.

“She’s lying.” Ricky’s raised his hand as if he were going to strike her.

“I’m not.” Penni glared back, lifting her chin, prepared to tell the truth, even if it meant taking a hit from the man glaring at her, promising retribution.

Hennessey caught Ricky’s arm in his grip, and Ricky’s expression became a mask of fear.

Penni’s bottom lip curled in contempt. The biker was making a fatal mistake by letting the men see his fear.

“He didn’t have a cell phone in his hand when he was stabbed in the back as I came in through the door. Ricky would have had time to call you if he wanted to,” Penni explained.

“She’s lying!” Ricky screamed as Hennessey aimed his gun.

A pool of blood appeared on his thigh.

“Dammit, listen to me.”

Another pool of blood appeared on his other leg.

Ricky fell to the floor with Hennessey standing over him.

“Dumbass, DJ would have never betrayed me. He knew the price for betraying me.” The gun was pointed at Ricky’s temple.

“Please, brother …”

“Don’t call me brother when DJ’s blood is smeared all over your boots.”

Penni covered her mouth with both hands when the shot rang out in the bar. Sadly, she didn’t feel any sympathy toward the dead man a few inches from her feet. He would have raped her and probably buried her where she would have never been found. Then the other bikers would have shown up to find their friend dead with no one able to prove the lies Ricky had told.

She stared mutely at the bald-headed president with his diamond earrings glinting at her, which seemed to mock her emotionless response to the killing that had taken place in front of her.

“Get that piece of shit out of here,” Hennessey ordered, not taking his eyes off her.

“What do you want me to do with DJ?” Cruz removed his hand from her shoulder.

“Call Stefan; he’ll take care of him for me.”

Penni pressed her back against the chair as the black president took a step toward her. Penni expected him to strike her; instead, he crouched in front of her.

“You better have been telling me the truth.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You tell me. Maybe you were trying to cause trouble between my men.”

“Maybe you should have figured this out before you killed him.”

“Maybe I should have, but he pissed me off.”

“Do your friends usually end up dead when you get pissed off?”

He shrugged. “Only one of them was considered a friend.”

Penni lowered her eyes to the pistol resting on his thigh. “I’m feeling like I need a friend myself right now.”

“You’re shit out of luck. You’re not black the way I like my women, and you’re definitely not a brother.”

“Maybe not, but I can keep my mouth closed, and I don’t care what deal you and your men have going down. I just need enough gas to get to the nearest gas station, and you never have to see me again.”

“Why would I trust you?” The man’s lip was set in a sinister sneer.

“Because I know how you can find Striker.”


Jackal hazily blinked at the light filling his bedroom.

“Turn off the fucking light,” he growled, searching for a pillow on his jumbled bed. Muttering to himself, he managed to find one jammed against Rita’s side. He drunkenly dragged it upward to relieve the headache hammering a hole through his brain.

“Ice wants you.”

Jackal could barely make out Stump’s serious features as he jerked away the pillow providing the only buffer from the daylight that was beginning to lighten the darkening sky outside his window.

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