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)
Yeah, it was. “She’s got medical training of some sort. Maybe a nurse, maybe a paramedic. Might be a link to the doctor.”
“Anything there yet?”
I shake my head. “I never saw him. And every fighter who did describes him as a whole lotta medium topped by pervert hair. Medium coloring, medium build, medium height.”
“What the hell is pervert hair?”
“A combover.”
“Ah. Yeah. Fuckers just need to shave that shit when it starts falling out.” The prez’s gaze sharpens. “But this girl spent more time with him?”
“She did.” And must have picked up more than just ‘medium’ from him. “The drill sergeant, too. Victor. He had Papa’s direct number and my sense is that Papa hired his militia as a separate deal from the Iron Blood. But I figure he’ll be the hardest to pin down. He’s smart enough to go to ground and stay hidden for a long time—unless he plans to come gunning for revenge over what we did to his boys.”
Saxon frowns. “You think him gunning for revenge is likely?”
“Hard to judge. He hates bikers. But he’s not stupid. Maybe fifty-fifty.”
“So look for him and watch for him coming.” The prez nods. “Anything else?”
“Might be,” Blowback tells him. “I’m setting up a meet. Someone who used to be with the Devil’s Hangmen, might have info to trade. You want in on that?”
That last part was directed at me. “Yeah, I do.”
Because Crash and I killed two of the Devil’s Hangmen in the ring. Those assholes used to be friendly with the fuckers who run the Cage, until the powers-that-be decided the club screwed them over. Now the Hangmen are pretty much scattered to the wind. Probably running scared.
But I’m not surprised Blowback dug someone up. And I won’t be surprised if ‘setting up a meet’ turns out to be that he’s got the man up on a meat hook somewhere.
“That it, then?” the prez asks.
“Yeah. I’m gonna go work on Cherry.” Work on her real damn hard. “But heading out to pay my respects to Red first. How’s Jenny doing?”
Red’s daughter, Anna’s best friend—a woman I’ve known my whole life, and who is the prez’s woman now.
“She’s hurting, but she’s holding up,” Saxon says, his jaw clenched. Because he’s hard to read…but not when it comes to Jenny. Worry is written all over him. “She’s already back to work.”
Of course she is. That’s Jenny, and how she deals with hurt. She finds something to keep herself busy.
And me…I find a hole to fill.
22
For four days, I don’t do anything but sleep and eat, then sleep some more. I still wake up before six, my body’s alarm clock set to get ready for the day. But there’s no Elton, no clunk of the unlocking door. So I just close my eyes and sleep again.
Maybe it’s just another reaction to stress. Maybe it’s because I feel so safe.
And that’s probably the greatest danger in this place—thinking it’s safe. Getting too comfortable, because I’m warm and no one’s telling me to smile, and they bring me more good food than I can eat. But the truth is...I’m still in a cage.
So on the fourth morning, I begin looking for a way out.
It quickly becomes apparent that there’s not supposed to be one. It’s just a single-room cabin with a small bathroom that holds a toilet and a shower. There’s one door—with a deadbolt that can only be unlocked with a key from inside or outside. The window beside the door is shuttered closed. On the back wall is another window, but with bars over the glass—which isn’t glass at all, I realize, but a thick plastic. No doubt chosen so that it can’t be broken or shattered. Outside, a few trees grow by a stream. No one to signal to for help, unless the deer around here are super smart and can talk. But the one deer I see just stares at me with big soft eyes before wandering off.
In the main room, a full-sized mattress—thick foam, no box springs—rests on a simple wrought-iron bed frame...with all the joints welded together. So no taking it apart and whacking someone. A small electric stove keeps everything warm, and I’m not messing with that. Not when I’m locked in here with no escape route and not really sure if anyone will hear me screaming ‘Fire!’ In the corner of the room, two wooden chairs are tucked under adjacent sides of a small square table.
In the bathroom, there’s not much more. Just a toilet, which doesn’t give access to the flush mechanism or offer any easy way to muck up the workings—the same kind they had in the stables. Like there’s some kind of prison supply warehouse for toilets.
But there’s a vent in the wall over the toilet. The slats in the vent are tiny, but when I stick my fingers through, there’s nothing blocking the other side. Just cool, fresh air. The vent itself is a rectangle that’s maybe eight inches by eighteen inches. Narrow, but so were the bars over my stall. As long as I can get my skull through the opening, I should be able to squirm the rest of me through. And if I can’t, then the rest of me is breakable.