Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
It was a mutual arrangement. When she was desperate to get high, she let whoever had what she needed do whatever they wanted with her.
A toxic example of quid pro quo.
The fact that she was hooked on meth was heartbreaking enough, but what made it worse were the lengths Sadie was willing to go to feed that addiction. Sloane doubted her baby sister was taking any kind of precautions.
But then, she was jamming a needle in her arm and Sloane was damn sure those needles used weren’t new. Or even clean.
When Sloane’s Honda Accord hit a deep pothole, she cursed through clenched teeth. She really needed a SUV to navigate this shitty path. But again, nothing was stopping her from finding her sister.
She just hoped when she found Sadie, her sister was still breathing.
Please be alive.
Please be alive.
Please be alive.
Suddenly her headlights swept across a “clearing” of sorts. At a normal residential property, the area in question would be considered a front yard. But this space was full of vehicles, of both the two- and four-wheel variety, and what ground she could see surrounding those vehicles was scattered with trash. Beyond the “clearing,” the property was surrounded by woods.
This property was hidden away where the public couldn’t see or find it, unless they were specifically looking for it. If it wasn’t for her GPS, she would’ve driven right past the entrance out at the paved road. She would’ve assumed it led to an abandoned property or maybe even undeveloped hunting grounds.
But no.
An old farmhouse really did exist at the end of the treacherous path. A structure as bad as the driveway and looked as if it could collapse into a pile of rubble at any moment.
The only reason Sloane knew about this location was Sadie’s closest childhood friend occasionally heard from her. Usually when she was begging for money. And every time Diana got that call, she tried to squeeze as much info as possible out of Sloane’s sister without telling her why. Then Diana would turn around and call Sloane, knowing she was the only one left standing in Sadie’s corner. The only one left fighting for her sister.
Because it had become clear a while ago, Sadie was not even fighting for herself.
She only hoped chasing Sadie down to this location wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life.
Finding an open spot without too much trash, Sloane parked her Honda. Even with closed windows, she could hear loud music playing. While from where she sat, the sound might be distorted but there was no mistaking it was rock 'n' roll.
Figures.
Even though the night was chilly, the front door was either hanging wide open or was completely off its hinges. Light poured from the opening and onto what might have once been a pretty wraparound porch but now was clearly nothing but a hazard. On that shadowed porch, she noticed some movement along with the flaring ends of cigarettes as they were puffed on.
More movement out of the corner of her eye pulled her attention to the left of where she was parked. Scattered among the cars and motorcycles were more party-goers or MC members, whoever they were.
She squinted to make out what a group of three were doing against a vehicle. She could hardly tell what…
Of course.
She shouldn’t be shocked or surprised, she had gone into this knowing she’d see things tonight not normally seen or accepted in society. As soon as she got the call from Diana telling her Sadie mentioned being at this party, Sloane had done some quick research on motorcycle clubs.
She had also found a few articles online about arrests and more concerning activities when it came to this particular MC. It turned out not one good aspect about this club or their members had been reported. Not a damn thing.
And here her sister had gotten herself involved with them. Sloane only wasn’t sure how tangled she’d become.
The “why” was easy.
A man wearing one of those biker vests sat on the hood of an old-style four-door sedan with his bent knees spread wide while a woman’s head bobbed in his lap as she was being railed from behind by a second man fisting her long hair.
She hoped to hell that wasn’t Sadie. If it was…
The thought of her baby sister being used and abused simply for an opportunity to get high caused bile to rise up her throat and her pulse to pound at her temples.
It hit her then, she should’ve thought things through more thoroughly and came down here better prepared. If she had, she would’ve brought along a weapon or something to protect both herself and her sister. Like pepper spray or a taser. Something she could cross state lines with legally.
Too late now.
She mentally inventoried her vehicle to see if she had anything that could be used as a weapon in a pinch. Did cars even have tire irons in them anymore? She didn’t even know.