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out,” I said. “Or I’ll call the police. That’s your final offer.”
    “An offer,” Slam said as he looked at his buddy, Knox. “You hear that? An offer?”
    Knox grabbed his to-go bag and slid from the booth. Slam then stood up and I was suddenly sandwiched between the two biggest men I’d ever met in my life.
    Slam still didn’t put the cigarette out. Instead, he stuck it between his lips. “Thanks, babe,” he said, the cigarette bouncing. He reached into his pocket and took out a wad of cash and threw it to the table.
    The two of them finally left the restaurant.
    But my night with Slam wasn’t over yet.
     
     

nine
     
    (slam)
     
    *MONTHS AGO*
     
    I lifted the final set and slammed the bar on the bench. I sat up and caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked angry, like a bull ready to charge. Sweat poured off my body. The gym smelled of sweaty balls and blood. There were four ceiling fans, only three worked. They were so damn high up, you barely felt the air coming off them. Four boxing rings were set up, two of which were being used. The rest of the gym was nothing but old, shit weights, but they did the trick.
    We were due for a vote later. Another run for the MC. I always approached that shit with hesitation. I hated moving things for people. Yeah, in some ways it kept our noses out of the fire, but at the same time, if anything went wrong, we were the ones who would take the heat.
    But it kept us in business. The people we helped, in return, not only paid us what we wanted but they also provided us with favors as needed. That meant the Reap had a lot of crews in our corner. That was a good thing. That ensured survival.
    I stood from the bench and unloaded the weights. I had been at the gym for two hours. The truth was that I had a pent up feeling I couldn’t get rid of. The clubhouse ass wasn’t cutting it lately. I needed to get out and get something fresh. Head to the bar and have a few shots of whiskey, pick a fight with some clean cut douche, and then find someone to take home and fuck. That’s what I needed.
    After the vote… tonight…
    I grabbed sixty pound dumbbells and started to curl them like they were gallons of milk. My biceps were huge and tight, veins throbbing as I lifted. In the reflection of the mirror I saw the door open and saw someone enter the gym.
    Chief fucking Richards.
    I swore that guy wanted to fuck me. He first popped me for slashing tires when I was thirteen. From there, every time I was in trouble, he was there to bust me. Now, he just followed me around, waiting for me to get into trouble.
    I put the weights down and walked toward him.
    The guy that owned the gym - Mutty - wasn't exactly up to date on inspections, licenses, taxes, or anything normal and legal. I didn’t need any heat coming on Mutty because of me.
    “What do you want?” I asked the chief.
    “No hello?” he asked as he slowly took off his sunglasses.
    “What do you want?” I repeated.
    “Couple calls came in from Neily County. Two bangers were shot. Execution style. Know anything about that?”
    I laughed. “First off, if I was going to knock off some bangers, I wouldn’t confess it to you. Second, what the fuck would I have business in Neily for? Plus, it’s an hour away. I’ve been at the gym for two hours now.”
    “Got proof?” he asked.
    I pointed to a security camera hanging above the counter.
    “I’ll need to see those tapes,” Chief Richards said with a grin.
    We both knew the camera wasn’t real. Mutty put it there to scare people even though everyone in town knew it was fake. Not that Mutty had a lot of money or anything worthwhile to steal.
    “What do you want from me?” I asked. “I’m at the fucking gym. I’m lifting weights. I’m not causing trouble.”
    “You are trouble, Slam. And you’re going to fuck up. I’m going to be there to finally fucking get you. I’ve been chasing your ass more than half your life.”
    “That’s the image you want?” I