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)
At home, other parts will be in motion. First one will be setting up protection for my sister, my parents—because the Hellfire Riders know threatening family is how the fuckers who run the Cage roll. The club would do this for any brother, but they’d do it for my sister and parents even if I weren’t a member. My sister, Anna, slings drinks at the bar the Prez owns and is best friends with his woman. The Hellfire Riders also just folded in a smaller club to our ranks, and the man who used to be the Steel Titan’s president is someone who’s practically an uncle to me—and longtime friends with my mom and dad. So if these fuckers somehow figure out who I am, my family will be looked after.
Knowing that is what makes these days pass as easily as they do. Sure, I’m focusing. I’m not letting any of this shit get to my head. But I can only do that because I’m certain Anna and my parents are safe.
Because I’m something of an anomaly among bikers. I mean, shit—we all love our families. Some more than others. But a whole lot of bikers join up with a club because they’re looking to belong to something. They’re looking to build another family. Because the one they’ve got isn’t quite right. They don’t fit or some shit. A bunch of them don’t come from real happy homes.
I do. My family’s fucking amazing. My mom, my dad, my sister—I love the shit out of all of them. And know they love me right back.
So I’m not looking for family. I’ve found some in the club, true. Gunner’s closer to me than a true brother. The Prez, Zoomie. They’re right in there. The other brothers—I’d kill for any one of them, too. It’s a family that grew on me but it wasn’t why I joined up.
Nah. I joined up because I can get shit done.
That’s why the military was a damn good fit, too. I could take care of shit. Then once I was out of the service… I needed the same thing.
My mom—who is real good at reading people—figured I’d go into law enforcement. And I saw the appeal. But I also saw how often my hands would be tied. Sometimes that’s a good thing. Too much power goes to a fucker’s head.
Other times, it’s just bullshit. Like when the local chapter of the Eighty-Eight Henchmen were after my sister’s friend Jenny. Our local sheriff’s a good guy. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do until the Eighty-Eight did something to Jenny first. By then, his help would have come too late.
So the Hellfire Riders took care of the Eighty-Eight. By the time we’d finished, half were dead and the rest were on the run.
That’s what I fucking love about the club—we take care of our own. No matter what it costs. If something needs doing, we get that shit done. And as the club’s enforcer, I’m right at the forefront of the doing. So it suits me real well.
Sitting in a cell doesn’t suit me as well. But I trust that Gunner and the others are getting shit done. So that gets me through this.
So do Handlebar and Crash. Those fuckers are my brothers from a different mother, too. First our Force Recon unit. Then the Bedlam Butchers. We aren’t members of the same club, but I’d lay down my life for them.
And then there’s Cherry. Six in the morning, the Rocket Man starts burning out his fuse over the speakers, and out of her stall she comes—looking like the angel Handlebar said she was. A sweet, sexy angel whose bright smile and cheery voice make all this shit a little more bearable.
It’s a damn good thing these assholes don’t know much about me and where all my soft spots are. Because it’s not just my family they could threaten. It doesn’t even matter that what happened between Cherry and me in the tavern was faked, that she was just dangling bait. I’m a sucker for a girl in trouble. So all they’d have to do is threaten to put a bruise on her, and I’d be in the Cage so fast their heads would spin.
Hell, if they brought a dog in here and aimed a gun at its head, I’d hold out for maybe half a second.
Probably not even that long.
Lucky for me—and for Cherry—the guards here must figure my interest in her is just careless flirtation to pass the time. And it is a way to pass the time, true. But I still can’t remember if I fucked her before I passed out on whatever she slipped into my drink. Can’t remember if I got up in that hot little cunt—or if I got my mouth on more than her lips. Christ knows, eating her pussy would have been the first thing I did. I was craving a taste from the moment I saw her. While talking to Gunner—and while she must have been spiking my drink—all I could think about was spreading her thighs and making her come on my tongue. But whatever happened after that…I don’t know. I’ve only had a few flashes of her throwing a wig and of her looking up at me, those soft lips trembling.