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)
Problem is, Gunner doesn’t like them much. The other problem is…me. The man he’d rather call his brother.
So what was his family’s plan? Solve one problem by getting me out of the way—but make it look like they had nothing to do with my disappearance, so that Gunner wouldn’t go home and kill them all?
Cherry glances at me again. Maybe sees the realization on my face. “You believe me this time?”
Yeah. Though it’s not Gunner. Instead I’ve got four of his brothers to choose from. Not the oldest. He’s in prison and will be for a while. So probably the second one—who’s also prez of their motorcycle club.
Strawman. He’s got a few years on Gunner, but anyone could mix them up. It’s easy to believe Cherry did.
She’s gone rigid in her seat, staring past me with fear glassing her emerald eyes. Farther down, they’re unchaining Hatchet. The Eighty-Eight Henchmen’s eagle and death head are tattooed on his back. White nationalist symbols are inked all over his torso.
Fucking trash. It’ll be no loss if he doesn’t walk back out.
I don’t recognize his opponent. Some poor bastard from another stable. They push Hatchet into the Cage with him and snap the door closed.
A small noise has me glancing back at Cherry. Her face is completely white. Her fingers are shaking—though she rolls them into tight fists when she notices me looking at her.
I remember what she said about seeing fights. That she prefers the ones in movies and not real life.
I’d prefer a movie to this shit, too. Because there’s nothing entertaining about watching two desperate men beating each other to death. A bell rings and they start circling, sizing each other up. Shouts erupt from the benches, all the fighters rooting for the man on their side. Except there’s no sides, because we’re all on the same one—under the boot of the bosses. Papa and whoever owns their stables.
I haven’t met Papa yet. Don’t care to. Except to see the face of another fucker I’m going to kill.
“What do you know about Papa?”
Eyes glued to the fight, lips pressed tight, Cherry doesn’t answer.
“How much is he paying you?”
That gets her attention. Barely. She shoots me a distracted frown before looking back at the Cage. “What?”
“What are they paying you?”
This time disbelief fills her sideways glance. “You think I signed up for this?”
“Maybe. Maybe you get off on this shit. The blood, the killing.” Some people do, and they pay a million to see it. “Maybe you enjoy watching a man take a beating.”
A beating like Hatchet’s taking now. He and his opponent are fairly evenly matched in height and weight, but I’ve seen a lot of fights. After a minute, I’d have put my money on Hatchet. He’s a bit faster, a bit smarter. But he also seems to be holding back, as if waiting for the other bastard to tire himself out, and that decision just caught him some hurt. He reels into the chain link fence, spitting blood.
With her fists clenched in front of her lips, Cherry watches with her whole body trembling, looking like a woman on the verge of screaming.
Yeah, she’s not here for the blood. “Who’ve they got on you?”
In the Cage, Hatchet has finally turned on the juice, feet and fists flying. She shudders and closes her eyes, relief smoothing her face.
“Cherry.” I shouldn’t even care. But I can’t stop myself from asking. “Who’ve they got on you? Parents, sisters…kids?”
Her eyes open again. She’s still staring into the Cage, where Hatchet’s got the guy in a headlock. Game over. But I don’t know if she’s seeing anything. That emerald is dull and her voice is hollow as she says quietly, “No one. I don’t have any family.”
“So you’re following orders to save your own skin?”
Hands folded in her lap again, she nods.
“So you save your own skin, and just don’t give a shit about anyone else’s.” Like my sister’s. And Christ, this fucking rot in my chest hurts. “Fair enough.”
She shoots me a glance full of green fire. But just a glance, then she’s watching the fight again. There’s no smile on her face as Hatchet puts the guy into a sleeper hold. Instead she looks stricken when he tightens his arm and knocks the poor bastard out cold.
No blood. No broken bones. Hatchet’s killing the other man in about the nicest way possible. Squeeze just right, and the chokehold puts an opponent to sleep within seconds. Then it starves him of oxygen, and he doesn’t wake up. So he dies quietly, painlessly.
But dying takes a while. And it goes silent around the Cage while it happens. Cherry’s not looking anymore. Her eyes are closed again, her breath shuddering like she’s silently crying.
Hell, maybe she fucked the guy who just died. Maybe she’s losing a boyfriend or some shit.