Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 124255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Tanner shrugged, his muscled traps bunching. “They find out I’m hung up for Adelita and I’m fucked anyway. At least this way I can prove to your pretty-boy brother here that I want out once and for all.” Tanner stepped closer to Tank and said, “I can’t be in that fuckin’ place one more day. I can’t stand and preach about white purity and the Christian race when the only bitch I ever wanted and can’t ever have is brown and fuckin’ Catholic. Nah, man, let me do this.”
Tanner looked to Styx and me. “I get this intel. I join the Hangmen. I got a shitload to bring to this club, and you can trust me.”
“Trust you?” I laughed with humor. “We don’t even fuckin’ know you. You’re leaving the Klan that’s provided for you your whole life over some Mexican/Nazi Romeo and Juliet bullshit. Why trust you now?”
Tanner shot forward and met me nose to nose. “‘Cause the way you feel about your bitch is the way I feel about that cartel princess I want to be mine; that’s why. And I’d do anything to fuckin’ protect her… including giving up my inheritance and my motherfuckin’ freedom.”
“You lynched any blacks?”
That question came from the back of the room, and Hush stepped forward dressed in all leather, Cowboy at his back. Hush’s light-blue eyes bored into Tanner.
Tanner dropped his head.
“Yeah,” he rasped out. “Been there when blacks, spics, yellows, Jews, gays, pope worshippers—you name it—been fuckin’ hung, drawn, and quartered then dragged behind trucks until there was nothing left but their torsos,” he answered honestly, and I had to give it to the bastard; he had balls.
Hush, our mixed-race, shaved-head brother was shaking. Granted, the brother was more white than black, the product of his Swedish mother’s Scandinavian looks, but a Nazi and a black? Like mixing water and oil.
“But that ain’t me no more,” he said as Cowboy put his leather-clad arm around Hush’s neck and forced him back, mouth at his ear, no doubt talking him down from slitting Tanner’s throat.
The room was silent, and I said, “You get that intel and we’ll fuckin’ see if you can roll with us.”
A loud whistle cut through the room, and all eyes fell on Styx. His face was stone. He pointed at Flame. “You, pick up this fuckin’ table and clean up the mess you made and cut the psycho shit down. Maddie ain’t yours. You don’t own that shit, so pipe the fuck down!” He next pointed to Hush and signed, “You’re our brother. You come first before any civilian, intel or not, right?”
Hush nodded and slouched back against the wall, glaring daggers at Tanner. Styx finally pointed at me. “And, Ky, last time I fuckin’ checked, I wore the president’s patch and I fuckin’ lead this club, not you. Don’t fuckin’ think because you finally found a pussy you wanna be all up for more than a fuckin’ second that you get to call the shots. You don’t. You’re not thinking straight and making a fuckin’ shit show of this church, so calm it the fuck down before I take you out of the plan to get Lilah back, period.”
“You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare,” I hissed.
Styx cracked his knuckles, then signed, “Try me, brother. I gotta protect this club. My VP acting like a damn whining pussy ain’t helping shit. I need you to back me, not cause more problems.”
Gritting my teeth, I picked up a fallen chair, sat my ass down, and shut my whining pussy mouth.
Styx signaled to Tank to translate, and he faced Tanner. “How long will you need to get the blueprints?”
Tanner listened to Tank and spoke to Styx. “‘Bout two hours. If I ain’t back in that time, I won’t be coming back.”
Styx watched Tanner, and I knew he was deciding how much the Neo could be trusted. Finally, he jerked his chin and signed, “Do it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lilah
All night I had fallen in and out of a fitful sleep, the noises outside my quarters too quiet. I was used to hearing rumbling engines roar, bottles smashing, people laughing, people fighting, and it surprised me that I missed it.
I could not stop thinking of the months I had lived outside. I had wanted for so long to be back here with my people. I had prayed over and over that my people survived and would be coming back for me. But now I was here, and it felt strange to me. The only place I had ever belonged felt strange to me.
Sitting up on the bed, the ropes still tight and unyielding around my hands and feet, I tried to keep calm. The morning sun was filtering in through the window, flooding the sparse room with a yellowy glow. It could almost be serene, beautiful even, if I were not being held captive.
Footsteps sounded outside my door and shadows danced from the slit underneath. My breathing quickened and I grew stiff, waiting for whomever was about to enter.
The doorknob began to turn, and a second later, a woman entered wearing a long white dress, her vibrant red hair falling to the middle of her back, the front shielding her face.
“Greetings,” she said, her back to me as she shut the door.
“Gr-greetings,” I forced myself to reply. This woman must be my new stewardess, just as Sister Eve had been for most of my life. I kept my eyes to the floor, and suddenly the woman’s sandal-clad feet came into view.
“Look up,” the woman ordered, and doing as requested, I looked up. The woman was about my age, pretty… and she was smiling at me.
I did not understand her affection. I was a Cursed. I was not someone to be friendly toward. I was not to be interacted with, even by those charged with my care.
The woman lifted her hand, and I stilled as she stroked a finger down my cheek. “You do not recognize me, do you?” the woman said, and it caused me to study her further.