Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
But ladies don’t lose their tempers. No. Ladies smile prettily and make themselves memorize as much as they can about the members of the Iron Blood who just came in, because one day this lady will tell a bunch of nice policemen exactly what these bad men did.
I haven’t met them before. They come for Lissa regularly but I’m never outside of the barn when they do.
Helpfully, they put their names and ranks on their leathers vests. It seems stupid for criminals to make it so easy for someone to identify them, but I suppose that’s part of the whole outlaw motorcycle gang schtick. They don’t fear the cops or being caught; they’re above the law or outside the law or simply a law unto themselves—and so certain that they can either silence or threaten anyone who might identify them—that they’ll wear their road names openly and proudly.
Two men follow close behind the first—the club’s president, Rattler. He’s big and barrel-chested, with a shaved head and graying, scraggly beard. One of the guys behind him is even bigger. He’s bearded, too, but it’s shorter and bushier. They’re all wearing long sleeves, so I can’t see if they have tattoos on their arms, but the bigger guy—the enforcer, Chef—has letters inked across his fingers. RIDE FREE. The third biker is shorter and more wiry than the other two, with a narrow face and close-set eyes. Paladin. He doesn’t have a rank patch below his moniker, so I guess that means he’s just a regular club member.
But I suspect that in usual circumstances, even a regular member would be one of the alpha dogs in the room. Because there’s a strange vibe between Rattler and Papa from the moment the other man enters. As if the biker’s used to entering a location and taking it over. As if he’s the one who usually makes people scramble. As if he doesn’t defer to anyone…but here, in this room where he clearly doesn’t fit, he has to.
I never get that sense from Victor. But maybe it’s because of the guard’s military background. He’s used to taking orders.
Rattler is used to giving them. Yet it’s Papa who calls the shots here.
“You are ready to ride out?”
Rattler nods. “Two days’ travel. A day or two to scope out the fighters. We’ll have your new man by Sunday. Where’s the girl?”
“I’m afraid Lissa has had an accident,” Papa tells him, then gestures to me. “So Cherry will be taking her place.”
What? I can’t keep the shock from my expression.
“As bait?” Rattler looks me up and down, then bursts out with a laugh. “You got anyone with tits?”
“She has a lovely figure,” Papa says without inflection.
The biker seems to realize how close to danger he’s riding. He stops laughing and pulls at his beard. “She’s pretty enough. But your last girl was smoking hot and had some curves on her. A man could imagine grabbing a few handfuls of her—or of that red hair. The only thing a man can grab there is a few bones.”
“Cherry will do just fine as a replacement this time.”
“Cherry?” That stops him for a second. “She’s a virgin?”
“She is. And I expect her to return in the same state.”
“A fucking virgin, trying to lure—” Rattler takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take one of our own girls. They know how to suck a dick, at least.”
“One of your own girls…who can be traced back to your club? Who might go for help? No.” Papa’s voice has turned to steel. “Cherry has reason to do what she’s told. Don’t you?”
I don’t expect to be a part of this conversation, despite it being about me. So a second passes before I find my voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“You see? And Victor will be traveling with her in the van. He’ll watch over her and see that she stays on task.”
No surprise from Victor. Perhaps Papa already informed him. Maybe to prove that he won’t be outsmarted by a girl again.
“Whatever floats your boat, boss.” As if shrugging away the whole business, Rattler turns toward the door. “We’ll be waiting outside. We gotta long ride ahead.”
If Rattler leaving without being dismissed pisses Papa off, he doesn’t show it. Instead he glances at me thoughtfully, but speaks to Victor. “Perhaps a few enhancements are in order. Rattler does know the sort of men who will be lured. And if the men being enticed are men of his calibre… Well. Some men enjoy a perfect filet mignon, and others love ground beef smothered in ketchup and mustard. So give them ground beef.”
And I’m the ground beef. Or the filet. The past ten minutes have been so surreal that I’m not completely certain what I’m supposed to be.
But it’s clear what’s happening now: I’m leaving the compound. Where I’m supposed to lure in a fighter…but where I also might find another opportunity. One I won’t mess up again.