Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC #1) - Savannah Rylan

One

Brooks

I picked up the phone that rang incessantly in the middle of the night. “What the fuck do you want?”

Hyde’s voice shocked me on the other end of the line. “Get your lazy ass up. You're coming along for a pick up.”

I peeked an eye open. “Come again?”

“You need to clean your ears, too? I said you’re coming on a pick up. Get up and meet me outside in thirty.”

I eased myself upright in bed. “First of all, tuck in that attitude. And second—”

“You gonna keep counting down or are you gonna make some money tonight?”

Shit, I needed the money. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be down there in twenty.”

“Make it fifteen.”

“Aren’t you the one who said double that in the first place?”

He growled. “Fifteen. Bye.”

“I can’t believe I was that stupid,” I whispered to myself.

I placed my head in my hands as the prison alarm sounded. I rolled my eyes and drew in a deep breath as I stared down at my boots. For the five years that I’d been in this dreary and grotesque place, I’d played that moment back in my head. Over and over, like a broken movie reel. Hyde called me a little after one in the morning on some random Wednesday to ride with him to pick up a very expensive and modded car for a client. It didn’t sit well with me in the first place since Hyde never called me for shit.

Plus, that wasn’t my fucking job.

“Why did you go?” I groaned.

I ran my hands down my face as I sat up. Prison guards yelled before a taser went off, crashing some unruly behemoth to the ground. Just another day at lunch for me, and yet again today I wasn’t hungry.

My nightmares haunted me more than usual.

See, prison gave me enough time to run down every detail of that night. Every phone call, every facial expression, and every person I’d come into contact with. And for the life of me, something felt off about it all. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but I knew once I got out, I wouldn’t stop until I had the answers I needed.

“Tell me again why I’m here,” I said.

Hyde shoved a coffee into my hand. “Simple. You’re an expert on modded cars and my client’s going to have questions I can’t answer.”

I snickered. “Then, why’d you take the damn job in the first place? Sounds like I should be at the head of this one.”

He slammed on the brakes and sent my coffee flying.

“What the fuck?” I asked as I looked over at him.

Hyde glared at me. “I was given this job because the client is a personal friend of mine. It’s taken me a while to solidify this deal, too. So, if you fuck it up? You’ll be the one paying my bills. Got it?”

I nodded slowly. “Maybe drive a bit easier, though. No car man trusts someone that can’t fucking drive a basic stick shift.”

That was another thing that felt off. Instead of taking our bikes, Hyde came and picked us up in some rubber-bumper bullshit excuse for a vehicle. Riding up on our motorcycles would’ve definitely impressed his client. Not some stick-shift rustbucket on wheels.

Up until that night, I didn’t even know Hyde owned a damn car.

“Curious,” I whispered.

The cacophony of sound coming from the cafeteria grew as inmates banged metal cups against their cell doors. Chants of “fight” and “get him” came from the other side of the facility and I stood to my feet. I slipped myself into my bottom bunk and closed my eyes, trying to make myself look as uninvolved as possible.

Because the last thing I needed was a stern beating from one of these asshats.

“Who the fuck is that?” Hyde asked.

I peered in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

“Is that who I think it is?”

I drew in a deep breath. “Listen to me. Keep driving.”

Hyde looked over at me. “What?”

“I said keep driving past our turn. That’s a fucking cop behind us, and I have no idea how long he’s been tailing us.”

“But the car. I have to get paid for that—”

I reached over and fisted his jacket. “You listen to me and you listen good. I’m still your goddamn Sergeant at Arms until further notice, so don’t take the turn and keep on fucking driving.”

I mean did he take the car because he knew he’d be tailed? Was there heat on the job he hadn’t informed me of? Did he know I’d tell him to cancel the pickup?

Or was there