Page 94 of His Loyal Rebel

He put his hand around the knob, knowing it would be unlocked. He'd already searched the perimeter of the house. The garage door was down. Big's motorcycle was in the driveway.

Big had to be the one making noise in the garage.

His hand tightened on the pistol grip. He rolled his shoulders, staying loose.

Swinging the door open, he stepped into the garage. Pointing the pistol in a wide sweep as he searched for Big. He found him with his head lowered near the engine of a Firebird.

Whip stepped forward, getting no response. The boombox on the workbench played nearby, covering any of his noise.

Stepping toward the vehicle, Whip reached out and put the end of the pistol at the back of Big's head.

"Drop the wrench, or I'll blow your fucking head off." Whip's index finger pressed on the trigger, and he moved as Big straightened. "The wrench."

Clunk. The tool landed underneath the car.

"Are you going to shoot me with my back turned?" Big kept his hands in front of him.

Whip stepped back, keeping distance between Big and the gun. "Move slowly."

Big pivoted and gazed at him. No surprise showed on his face at having a Tarkio member in his house.

"Let me guess." Big's eyes flickered, looking for more members. "You're pissed off that your old lady is seeing me behind your back."

"She belongs to me." He stepped to the left, making sure the bullet that would go through Big's body wouldn't also go through the thin, cheap garage door.

There was no doubt Big contacting Twyla was one-sided. He trusted her. For Big to bullshit his way out of trouble only pissed him off.

Whip reached into his vest pocket with his free hand and pulled out the bullet he'd removed from the gun in his hand. He tossed it in the air.

Big caught it on instinct.

"Take a look." He adjusted the end of the pistol, making sure he aimed at Big's face. "You'll probably recognize it."

Big glanced down, turning the bullet between his thumb and finger.

"That's right. It's marked." Whip's chest tightened. "You'll be familiar with it, considering it came from the pistol that belonged to you. I got curious when I unloaded the weapon my woman stole from you and found each bullet had the same mark. I almost missed the imperfection when I peered into the barrel, but nothing a little sunshine wouldn't pick up if you know what you're looking for."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I thought the same thing, at first. To prove I was right, I'd need to have access to rifles sold by Cusclan." He tilted his head. "Tarkio made some phone calls to your customers and had them check their weapons. Do you know what we found in common?"

Big's gaze narrowed, and he closed his mouth.

"Interesting how each rifle that came from Cusclan hands and was sold illegally on the market also had the same mark in the barrel."

The large vein at Big's forehead throbbed. "You motherfuck—"

Bang.

Big hit the concrete floor. Whip lowered his arm and stared down at the body. Big's reaction to the marked bullet confirmed what he'd already figured out. Cusclan Motorcycle Club dirtied the playing field by spreading their filth to every corner of the underground.

If allowed to continue, they could easily use their contacts within every police department in the United States and set up their enemies to fall for crimes Cusclan committed.

He used the edge of his leather vest to unscrew the suppressor. The aroma of scorched leather wafted into his nostrils. He bounced the piece in his hand until it cooled enough to pocket.

Then, he used his flannel shirt to wipe down the pistol. He squatted beside the body and used Big's hand to put prints all over the weapon before he placed it down on the concrete beside him.

If the police and courts wanted to follow the autopsy evidence, they could follow the trail back to Cusclan's clubhouse.