Pretty. Little. Pixie.

She doesn't look like she belongs in this shithole part of town. Long legs and a short torso, this girl might stand all of five foot two. Denim shorts show off her sculpted legs and a clean white halter top flashes bits of her tan lines. She's a tiny thing, with Chestnut hair that sits in a mass on top of her head. Heavy bangs hang down, brushing against her eyebrows, drawing attention to her fairy green eyes.

After we roll by, a little boy hops off a bus and runs over to her. She's got a kid- figures. Pussy like that doesn't stay innocent for long. She can't be more than twenty.

Our clubhouse is on the outskirts of the city. The compound is brand new, just finished last year. A garage big enough to hold our bikes. A yard big enough to party in. And a house big enough for all the boys.

We're a small club- the Gang of Wolves. But that's exactly how we want it. None of us want to be the baddest in the state. We want to party, make money, and ride. And that's exactly what we do. Until Joey Northcutt fucked us over.

We'll handle business the way we always do. Quickly and quietly.

"You see Joey's kid back there?" Brick asks. Our group of eight has left the garage, and it's just him and I now. His Zippo flicks and he lights a blunt.

I nod with my chin. "That who that was?"

"Yeah," he says with a dark smile. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asks.

Lighting up a cigarette, I step out of the garage, my boots digging into the gravel. "Payback's a bitch," I say, unenthused.

Joey Northcutt was a friend of the club.

Was.

He's a street rat. Always has been, always will be. That white trash piece of shit knows every other white trash piece of shit in the state. He had connections and used them well when we needed him. He also shanked one of our guys last year inside the joint. Now, he's about to get out and find out that our club doesn't forget.