Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Forty minutes later, Meister entered the bar with the same guard I’d seen him with before. The Himmler to his Hitler, no doubt. Men darted out of their way as Meister strutted through the crowd, his swastika and Totenkopf skull tattoos flexing in the dim light. He took a drink from the bar. When he turned, holding what looked like a file in his hand, I saw claw marks etched on his face.
My hand tightened on my beer. Was that the work of Phebe? I pictured the red-haired bitch fighting the fucker off, the image making my fingers twitch with pride. Then the asshole was moving toward the jukebox. He snapped the wire from the socket and stared out over the crowd. Every man fell deathly quiet.
I’d give the prick his dues, he was an intimidating fucker. Intimidating to everyone but us Hangmen.
The room was quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop. Meister held up his hand. “Heil Hitler!” he yelled, and we all echoed it back.
His right-hand man brought a whiskey to him. Meister knocked it back in one. He was dressed in black camo pants tucked into black boots and a tight wife-beater. Tank and Tanner could stand side by side with this cunt and not look out of place.
He took a step forward and held up the file. “You’re all here because we serve the great cause.” His voice was low and his movements measured. My eyes narrowed as I studied every inch of this bastard.
“You are all here because somebody recommended you, or thought you deserved to fuck pussy for a service well done.” The fucker let his blue eyes run over every one of us in the room, then he smiled, showing a mixture of white and gold teeth. “The pussy here belongs to the Brotherhood and the Klan. Good, all-American, white pussy, making us money for the war that hangs over us.” He ran his hand over his shaved head. “And the dick that plows this pussy, that fucks and sucks and drinks on the juices from their cunts, is only white cock. Klan cock. No Jews. No blacks. No spics. Or any other fucking poisoned blood that infects this planet like a plague, and robs the true race, the Aryan race, of what is rightfully theirs.”
Meister paced back and forth on his patch of floor. “All the brothers here are pure.” He stopped. Slowly, a savage grin spread on his lips. “Or they should be.”
I darted a glance at Vike, Cowboy and Flame. Flame had his hands on his blades, ready to fight. Vike nodded a single discreet nod without looking my way. Cowboy tapped the tip of his Stetson, his free hand moving to his Glock. I had my eyes set on the fastest path out, hand braced on my gun.
Meister opened the file. “We background-check all who enter my town. And we leave no stone unturned. For the race war to begin, we need good white soldiers. Soldiers who are dedicated to the white way and will do anything to bring our dream to reality.” Meister took a sheet from the file. “The pussy here is Aryan. We are all Aryan. Because we are the motherfucking ARYAN BROTHERHOOD!”
Slamming what I now saw was a photo into the air, he said, “And no motherfucking Aryan would fuck black pussy!” Meister waved the picture around for all to see; it showed a black woman smiling.
My eyebrows pulled down. The sound of chair legs scraping the wooden floor came from the far left of the bar, as someone jumped to their feet. Heads whipped in his direction.
He looked in his late twenties. Some skinny blond who seemed to be strung out on meth. Meister glared at the guy, his lips curling in disgust. The traps in his neck bulged as he seethed on the spot. “You dare to call yourself White Power when you fucked this cunt’s pussy, lived with her for a year?”
Meister’s face was red; he locked eyes on the guy, who began backing to the door. The guard I called Himmler stopped the guy dead and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. Meister took out a lighter, and making sure the not-so-pure Klansman was watching, set fire to the photo. He spat on the burning sheet as it fell in flames to the ground.
“Get your guns,” Meister commanded us all. The guards began herding us, marching everyone outside.
“What the fuck?” Vike muttered, as we got to our feet and followed the crowd. We were lined up across the width of the empty street. Daylight was fading. Several dimly lit street lights were on, but night was chasing sun. Himmler stood about ten feet away, still holding the terrified-looking Klan fucker by the neck. Meister pushed through the center of the line and stood in front of us.