Page 91 of Insidious Heart
The Wulven Kings don’t dabble in senseless murder, not anymore.
And while punishment for an asshole who attacked and almost raped a dancer on their territory, after explicit rules about not even talking to them were issued, is warranted, murdering him really isn’t, not to Snipe and his way of doing things.
Granted, I doubt they would have cared if Elias got too carried away and crushed the fucker’s skull, but they wouldn’t sanction bumping someone off after the fact for doing what the Con did. Most likely, anyway. I guess it all depends if things had played out differently. Even so, Spider had a good point and I know it irritated him when I argued against it.
In order to keep the charade going, to keep Beau and his crew of brain dead barbarians in the dark, the Wulven Kings need to accept the half-assed peace offering so they stay that way.
If the Seeds or the Cons catch wind of the WKMC’s knowledge of what they’re trying to do, it could easily unravel everything and lead to a club war where we’d be greatly outnumbered.
They.
Wheretheywould be greatly outnumbered.
Shit.
Why do I keep fucking doing that?
I drag my smoke and shake my head, titling it a little as I analyze another thought that keeps popping into my head.
It’s probably nothing, just leftover from pretending to be a King at the party last night.
Yeah, that’s probably it.
And I’m basically working for them; collecting intel for the Wulven Kings and reporting back to them regularly because it just so happened my current target is conspiring against them, and we’ve made nice since I helped Spider with his family issues.
It wasn’t even that long ago that I did it—a couple months at most—so it’s perfectly natural to start using things likeweanduswhen referring to that group of moody assholes since I’ve been wrapped up with them consistently since then.
That’s definitely it.
Not that I’ve found myself actually giving a shit about a bunch of guys I enjoy annoying.
Not because I might want to befriendswith a couple of them.
Not because the entire Wulven Kings executive committee has accepted me as-is without trying to change it or letting it affect what they think of me overall.
Not even because hearing Spider say Idid a good jobtonight before thanking me for doing it at all made me almost blush.
Hell no. The way those words made my chest all warm and fuzzy has absolutely nothing to do with why I’m having insane thoughts about lumping myself in with them.
Insanebeing the keyword because I am and they know it, so even if I wanted to join the Kings—which I don’t—they wouldn’t let me in based on that alone.
I scowl as I smash out my cigarette, dropping it in the ashtray before hopping out and locking the wagon.
There’s no way Snipe would patch me in for real.
I’m a textbook serial killer, for one, because regardless of who I kill now I do have civilian kills under my belt. That’s probably not in thequalities we look forsection of the Wulven Kings application.
Throw in the way I annoy all of them, the uncertainty my personality presents, and the extremely questionable threadbare morals I have, and I’m sure there’d be a record set by how quickly they voteno.
But why does that piss me off?
Still scowling, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I start stomping through the vacant lot toward the abandoned house across from my girl, but the expression falls as I keep weighing the possibility.
They have aMarbles.
And that guy is just as crazy, if not more so, than I am. No, he doesn’t creep around at night stalking his victims, nor does he have victims for that matter, but he had a goddamn cheetah as a house pet and that has to count for something. He drives everyone nuts too. Even Snipe, who has been his best friend since they were kids, and I heard the story about how Marbles and Harlow got together.
Nothing like a blowjob in an autopsy-slash-embalming room immediately after having your face stitched up from fighting a bastard you ultimately killed for beating your sister.
