Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
“That sounds miserable.” Winter snapped. She turned to Roman. “If this is the way your club works, why are we pushing this so fast?” She turned back to Sting. “Explain this. What do you mean we have to be a lifer? We can’t leave the club? Ever?”
“Correct. Same as our members can’t leave. Even the prospects aren’t cut loose. They don’t cut it…”
There was a pause before Iris was the one to ask the question hanging in the air. “They don’t cut it… what?”
“They die.”
The woman took time to process this. Surprisingly, it was Serelda who spoke. “So, if I try to leave again, will I die?”
“You’re not gonna leave again because you’re with me, baby.” I was not going to have her fret over this. “That’s the last thing you should be concerned about, because I will make sure you never want to leave again. Your leaving this time was on me. I fucked up. I retrieved you, claimed you, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life treating you like a fucking princess.”
“Great. You’re all gonna be so good to us we never want to leave,” Iris snapped. “What are you beating around the bush over, Sting?”
In answer, Sting pulled up his shirt sleeve and pointed to a tattoo on his shoulder. The emblem matched the one on our cuts. The top rocker had the club name. The bottom Sting’s name. Below that was his designation. There had been Prospect, which was now crossed out. Then member, followed by Sergeant at Arms. All had been crossed out with a single line. Now, President took their place. “You have to get inked. Yours will say Property of Sting.”
“And why is this a thing?”
“Few reasons. First, it’s club rules. Everyone here is inked. You can follow their progress within the club by their tattoo. Second, it serves as a reminder that you’re Iron Tzars for life. Third, it lets everyone in the club know you’re part of us. Warlock never inked or patched Bev, so we all knew he had reservations. We protected him, but Bev was on her own. Which is why Warlock tried to keep her close, even when he knew she was trying to glean information. It was the only way he had of protecting her without inking her.”
“So, if we do this,” Winter picked things up, “the club knows we’re part of them. We’ll have their protection.”
“And they’ll know who you belong to. We have men scattered out all over the world at any given time. It might be years before you meet some of them. When you do, there will be no mistakes. No one will hit on you. The club whores will stay away from you. You will, basically, mirror our ranks in terms of respect. You won’t have a vote or be involved in the inner workings, but it will be understood that you likely know everything going on. If you give an order to a member, they will obey it as an extension of us.”
“Wow.” Iris raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That seems like an awful lot of power to give your women.”
“It’s not given lightly, baby. To make you our ol’ ladies means we trust you implicitly. The three of you are the only ol’ ladies in this club. It’s rare a member takes a woman for this very reason.”
“What about the club girls?” Serelda asked. “Are they inked?”
“Yes,” Sting said without hesitation. “They have their own design, but it clearly gives our club and their designation as club whore. Once they get to the point where they want to retire from that kind of life, we find other jobs for them within the club, and their designation is changed. We aren’t cruel to them, but they know in no uncertain terms what they’re signing up for when they come here. They are given the rules in the strictest terms and know this is for life.”
“Most become ol’ ladies to interstate or international members, away from the compounds where they served,” Roman added. “There have only been a few instances in the history of this club that didn’t work. The vetting process is pretty extensive.”
“And by a few, he means six. Not counting Bev.” Sting sighed as he pulled Iris closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “We’ve got bad guys headed to our door, baby. This is a matter of safety. I don’t want to lose you. Ever. For any reason.”
“And if I refuse to be branded like cattle?”
“Baby…”
“I’m serious! What if I absolutely cannot do this, Sting?”
“I’ll ask you to think about it. To really, really think hard about it. Explain to me why you can’t, and we’ll try to work through it.”
“And if I still can’t?” She was directly challenging the president. But she was also digging for the answer Sting didn’t want to give.