A Leap in the Dark (Assassins of Youth MC Book 2) by Layla Wolfe Page A

Now that guy was fast with a weapon, and he knew how to use it. It might not happen that often, but when it does, you need a guy who’s prepared.”
    “And you can’t do it?”
    Gideon sighed. “I’m dealing with some first wives who want to claim the bodies of their husbands out at my mine.”
    “What—”
    “Don’t ask. Can you do it?”
    “Drive a truck? Make a delivery while armed? Sure. Just tell me how to get in, who to see, all that shit.”
    Gideon bro-hugged it out with me, thumping me on the back once. “Good man. I’ve got to take this,” he said, indicating his phone. He went out front to join the realtor.
    With hands entwined behind my back, I walked the floorboards like a proper owner. It felt good to be branching out, doing something new. High windows would let in light without allowing anyone to see in or out. Just some new sheetrock and paint and the basic shell of the space would be done. Gideon knew more than me about plumbing and foundations, and he assured me the whole space was solid.
    Just to be sure, I went into the back and checked the sinks and toilets. Everything ran smoothly with no sign of rust. No signs of dry rot or leaky roof, and the window was well sealed. I was just exiting the bathroom when a sinister shadow moved in the hallway, someone wearing a ten gallon hat. Not knowing where the light switch was, I was stupidly feeling along the wall when the fat silhouette pressed in on me.
    “Who’s that?” I barked, holding my forearm in front of my face as I circled around the form.
    “Well, well.” I recognized the smarmy, hayseed voice right off. Ladell Pratt. “Last time I saw you I had my mouth around your sweet slave prick. Now you’re trying to branch out into my town? My, my. You must be looking forward to all kinds of cocksucking to get your business shipshape.”
    I may have been in “his” town, but the twisted fundy had gotten on my last nerve. All the rage that had propelled me down to Avalanche in the first place surged through my cells. Before I knew it, my fist landed a sharp right cross to the twatwaffle’s alcoholic nose. He went spinning down the hallway toward the back storage area. Only the corner of the hallway prevented him from crashing into the storage shelves. He stood propped in the corner like a zombie, arms out stiffly in front of himself.
    “Assault,” Pratt called weakly.
    I advanced on him, grabbing him by his stupid shirtfront. I rattled him so energetically his head bounced against the wall on a rubbery neck. “I’ll give you fucking assault, you toolbag,” I growled. “You get the fuck out of my shop. You might be able to bully around thirteen-year-old boys but now we’re on an even footing.”
    He spat with each word he spoke. Looked like there was blood in his spittle. “Maybe we don’t want any of you and your fucking Lost Boys living in Avalanche.”
    “What’re you gonna fucking do about it?” His shirt in hand, I whipped him to the front of the hallway. Tossing him into the big long room, he spun on his ass, his face redder than ever. His hat came off, and I stomped an angry boot down on it, smashing the crown. I tossed it like a Frisbee onto his fat stomach and snarled, “The Lost Boys are in good with the Assassins of Youth now. There’s a new game in town.”
    Pratt struggled to stand without assistance. “Oh yeah? You’ll be singing a different tune, you two-bit hustler, once the town council finds out what you do for a living in Bountiful. Profiting off the filth and downfall of your fellow men.”
    Something struck me, but I didn’t have time to ponder it. “Well you were fucking soliciting my house and getting your rocks off, Pratt, so I’d say that makes us even. Wouldn’t want your million-year-old town council to find out about that , would you?”
    He was on his feet, arms twirling like a ballerina. A very beefy, lumpy, uncoordinated ballerina. “Who are they gonna believe, Rockwell? Me or some uneducated