Jerry Langton Three-Book Biker Bundle Read Online Free Page B

into a chopper.”
    He paused. “Yeah, I wanted to be a biker even back then—hell, younger’n that, maybe even—nine, ten.” He was really getting into it now. “I wore a fake leather vest and used to give myself tattoos with a ballpoint pen.”
    â€œYeah, so?”
    â€œSo, I worked my way up, first as a lookout, then a messenger boy, then a delivery boy—just like everyone else,” he said. “And here you are, just showed up one day and you’re dealing big right out of the box.”
    â€œHey, I had to earn it.”
    â€œLike fuck you did,” he said. “The rest of us really had to earn it, doing all kinds of hard work for the members—beating up witnesses, setting fires, robbing warehouses—you ever do any of that shit?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDidn’t think so—but we all did; they treated us like slaves, kicking our asses for years until we earned their respect and got to do some pushing around of our own,” he said. “And your waltzing in the way you did hasn’t exactly made you that popular with the boys.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWell, I ain’t gonna name any names, but some people have raised some suspicions about you,” he said.
    â€œSuspicions? Like what?”
    â€œOne guy thought you might be a cop, but that’s ridiculous—you’re too young and I’ve seen you smoke weed, and cops can’t do that, even undercover.”
    â€œOf course I’m not a . . . ”
    â€œYeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re not an informant,” Gagliano pressed on. “Y ’know, maybe you got in a little trouble at school and you thought you could deliver them Steve or one of us to save your ass . . . ”
    Ned felt like punching him, after all he’d been through, but he knew it was probably the worst thing he could do at the moment. Instead, he let him trail off, letting the obvious question hang in the air like a cloud.
    â€œDo you believe that?” he finally offered.
    â€œNot after last night,” Gagliano laughed.
    There was little Ned could do but grin goofily.
    â€œBut I am telling you here and now that there are people in our little group who don’t like you, don’t trust you, and are keeping their eyes on you,” Gagliano said. “One of them especially does not like you.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThat will make itself clear in time,” he said. “Now eat your fuckin’ eggs before I do.”
    When they finished their meal, the waitress placed the bill in front of Ned. “Lesson number . . . actually, I’ve lost count of how many lessons I’ve taught you today—anyway, this lesson is that I never pay for fuck all,” Gagliano grinned.
    â€œThat’s true,” added the waitress. “He never pays.”
    â€œLeave her a big fuckin’ tip.”
    Back in the car, Ned noticed they were driving back to the city’s north end, where the steel factories are. The houses here were mostly small and falling apart, and the air was thick with soot from the giant blast furnaces. “Yeah, Vladimir will totally fuckin’ take care of you, but there are some ground rules,” Gagliano said. “First is never disagree with him, and never, ever make fun of him, his house, or anything at all associated with . . . actually, y’know what would work best? Why don’t you just keep your mouth shut; maybe say ‘thank you’ or something.”
    â€œSounds like a bit of a psycho.”
    â€œYou are paying the man to dispose of a severed head and hands for you—don’t expect Mary fuckin’ Poppins.”
    They stopped in front of a dirty white bungalow with a collapsing roof. Gagliano slammed his flat hand against the ancient wooden screen door. “Vladimir? You in?”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” a voice rumbled from inside.
    The bikers entered. The place smelled of