Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
I went to say something, to tell her it was okay, when she whispered, “I love you.” My breath got caught in my chest. “You know that? I’ve fucking fallen in love with you, darlin’.”
“I know.” I held her tighter. “Love you too, beauty queen.”
She laughed at her old nickname, but then the tears started falling again. “I was so scared,” she whispered.
“It’s my life, baby.” Beauty blinked up at me. I pulled out from her pussy and pushed her panties back in place. Before I could let her go, Beauty reached down and put me back in my jeans, fastening them back up.
“I didn’t want you to let me go.”
Fuck . . . this woman . . .
Gripping her tighter, I inhaled her flowery scent. “You didn’t know me when I was in the Klan.” I took a long fucking breath. “I’ve killed before. You know that, right?” I hadn’t told her why I’d been in prison. Hadn’t really told her anything about my past.
Beauty’s eyes widened, but then her shoulders sagged. “Yeah . . . I know.”
I picked Beauty up and carried her to the edge of the land behind the rest stop. I slumped against a tree, keeping her in my lap. She laid her head on my chest. “I miss it,” I said, and Beauty froze.
She looked into my eyes. “The Klan?” Her voice was thick with fear.
“Being in a brotherhood.” Sympathy quickly replaced the panic on her face. “I ain’t made for this life, jumping between towns, alone.” Beauty’s face paled, and she moved to get up. I stopped her. “We ain’t. You got too big a personality to be trapped in this kind of life. No friends.”
“I want you.”
“You got me. Always.” I took hold of her hand. “But we’re going to Austin.”
Beauty stared off into the woods behind us. “I know of the Hangmen, Tank. They’re fucking insane.” She ran her hand over my forehead, then kissed the center. “That asshole had a gun to your head.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “That asshole is the meanest motherfucker I’ve ever heard of.”
“And we’re going to them tomorrow anyway?”
We. ’Cause she was never going anywhere without me again. “Fucking Reaper Nash tells you to be somewhere, you arrive an hour early with a fucking smile on your face. I ain’t messing with the Hangmen. They have a bike shop. Maybe that’s it. Maybe there’ll be an offer of a job.”
Beauty got to her feet, then stared down at me for a few seconds. “Then we got a long journey back to the ATX.” I got up and kissed her lips. “I need to pick up my things from the motel and change into my leathers.”
As she went to walk to the bike, I pulled her back to me, her tits pushed against my chest. I took her chin with my free hand. “But the panties stay on. Wanna know my cum is still inside you when we ride.”
“Careful, darlin’,” she warned as she broke from me and strutted toward the bike. She looked back at me over her shoulder. “Or ain’t no one making it to Austin tomorrow.”
I smiled, then got on my bike and took us to pick up our shit. We had an appointment with the Reaper to keep.
*****
I stared up at the building, a painting of Hades, the Hangmen emblem, staring back at me. The gate opened and I walked through. A few guys were scattered around the yard. This was the bike shop’s entrance. No fucker got through the main entrance unless you were patched in. Found that out when I’d first joined the Klan and a bunch of newbies thought they could take on this club. Wanted to get into Landry’s good graces. Not one of those assholes came back alive. Reaper sent the security tape of them being beaten to death by him and his VP to the ranch for our enjoyment.
“You’re the Nazi?”
I snapped my head to the side to see a huge fuck-off Samoan-looking guy glaring at me. His had ink everywhere, even on his face. He wore jeans and a wifebeater. Both were covered in oil.
“Ex,” I said and stared at the fucker right back. He raised his eyebrow like he didn’t believe one word I said.
“Reaper said you fixed his bike.” It wasn’t a question. The Samoan walked off, and I followed. I walked past some fucker with long red hair, who sent me a Nazi salute as I passed then blew me a kiss.
Prick.
We arrived at the garage, where three Harleys sat. The Samoan pointed at a Street Glide in the corner. “You fix that by the end of the day, you got a job.” Excitement fucking burst in my veins. The guy walked to the Fat Boy across the shop. It was almost identical to the one Reaper rode yesterday.