Free Dog Warrior by Wen Spencer

warmed by his body and carrying his scent, than Ru’s words that made Atticus realize it was the drug pushing him to act.
    â€œWhat did you tell them?” Atticus managed a calmer tone.
    â€œFuck off!” Daggit cried. “I’m not telling you nothing about them.”
    â€œI didn’t ask about them,” Atticus said. “I want to know what you said about us! Now tell me, or I’ll rip your arm off.”
    â€œNothing! Not a goddamn thing.”
    Atticus could tell by the slight jump in the pulse under his fingertips that Daggit was lying. Clearly, though, he wouldhave to pretend to believe him or beat the information out of him. He was already putting the whole setup at risk for what—a stranger he just met yesterday? A man who might be the coldest bastard on the planet?
    Letting go of Daggit, he stepped back out of Daggit’s reach as the big man surged to his feet. The room suddenly seemed claustrophobic, taken up by the angry biker, the seated Animal, and the table blocking the exit. There was some part of him, that punk kid he used to be, that wanted Daggit to come at him so he had an excuse to beat the snot out of him. An older, wiser self, nearly swamped under the drug’s influence, knew that would be a bad thing. Guns were already in the mix, and Ru could easily be hurt.
    â€œDaggit, he’s Pack,” Animal drawled, seemingly undisturbed by the violence or the gun that Ru held. “That’s a losing hand. Just fold.”
    Daggit froze, hands clenched into massive fists, panting out breath tainted with beer, blood, and years of cigarette smoking. He glared at Atticus like he meant murder. Atticus stared back, ready and waiting to see how things played out. They stood statue-still for a minute, like samurai testing each other’s will. Finally, Daggit wiped his bloody upper lip with the back of his hand and looked away.
    Ru took it as a sign that danger was past. He thumbed the revolver’s cylinder out and rejected the silver-tipped bullets; they rained onto the tabletop. “You don’t want us to know about them. We don’t want them to know about us. It seems fairly simple—mum’s the word, all the way around.”
    Daggit grunted.
    â€œWe lost three men at Buffalo,” Ru reminded Daggit as an explanation of Atticus’s reaction. “You lost three too.”
    â€œFour.” Daggit spat out blood and wiped his thumb over his lip. “No one’s heard from Toback since; whoever hit the place took him.”
    â€œYou sure he wasn’t in on the hit?” Ru asked.
    Daggit glanced to Animal and shook his head. “I don’t know him that well. He’s part of the Buffalo chapter.”
    â€œBig, stupid, and loyal as a dog,” Animal said. “That was David Toback.”
    So the nomad Animal was the link between Buffalo and Boston.
    â€œDid you tell the Temple about the Buffalo deal before it went down?” Atticus asked.
    Animal thought a moment this time before shaking his head. “No. Core got really creepy in the spring, moving out to Buffalo and talking about the end of the world. Let’s just say I don’t drink around them—just in case they’re in the middle of doing a Jonestown thing.”
    When members of the People’s Temple staged a cult suicide with cyanide-laced grape Kool-Aid, not everyone had drunk willingly. It wasn’t a good sign that the outlaw bikers—with their loose grip on normal—considered the Temple of New Reason unstable.
    â€œSo they’re based in Buffalo now?” Atticus asked.
    Animal eyed him warily and then shrugged. “They moved again. To Pennsylvania or Ohio. No forwarding address.”
    Ohio was where they killed Ukiah.
    â€œWhen we do this again on Saturday, we’re not doing it here,” Atticus said firmly. “Do you know the Boston Harbor Hotel?”
    â€œIt’s hard to miss,” Animal