Total pages in book: 212
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
“Your sister’s property of the Jackals, right? They holdin’ her hostage? You pullin’ shit for them, so they won’t hurt her?”
“Stepsister. Ex-stepsister, technically. Our parents were only married a couple years when we were younger, but yeah, we are close. Though that doesn’t mean I agree with everything she does. ‘Cuz I really don’t. And no, she’s there voluntarily.” Her expression soured.
I stared. “You’re loyal to her though?”
Her gaze dropped and she stared at her feet, wiggling her toes. “I have been to a degree, unless she’s doin’ stupid stuff or hurting people. But there’s nothing I can do for her right now, so I’m doing the only thing I can do. Tryin’ to stop them from killing more women.”
I waited, eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. She continued to stare at her feet, worrying her lip with her teeth, wiggling her toes.
“Gettin’ coffee, you want another?” I straightened from my squat, spotting a little birthmark to the right of her black belly button jewelry.
“No thanks. Could you just point me to where I’m stayin’? I drove through the night; need some z’s.” She raked her hands through her hair and sighed.
“You’re here,” I told her stomach.
“You’re giving up your room?”
I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “No. First, got no furnished spares right now.”
Her eyes darted away. “I can sleep on the floor in one of them. Wouldn’t be the first time. Just… as long as it has a lock.”
I kept talking as if she hadn’t spoken. “But mostly, hostages don’t get guest rooms. They stay where their captors can keep track of ‘em.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, I just need sleep. Don’t care where.”
My eyes landed on my bed, and I flexed my jaw muscles. It was sinking in deeper that this would be a big fuckin’ pain in my ass.
“Crash. I won’t be far. Come out in a bit and we’ll rustle you up some grub. Don’t sleep more than a couple hours or you won’t be tired when I’m ready to crash and if that’s the case, you’ll need to be cuffed to the bed. If you come out while I’m out patrolling, sit in the lounge and wait for me.” I reached for the doorknob.
“You’re gonna leave my stuff like this?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I leveled her with a hard look.
“Guess I’ll take care of it,” she muttered.
Resigned. Resolved. Not an ounce of attitude.
Beautiful girl. Girl in pain. Girl that suddenly looks more tired than any chick her age should look. If my instincts were right. I’m good at reading people, but didn’t know enough about her yet to know if I was reading her right. For all I knew, she could be where she is out of choice. She could be a pretty little liar with sad eyes who’s out for herself, out to get herself a fix of whatever her habit is – whether it’s booze, drugs, the approval of a Jackal she’s sweet on, or she could be under the gun, needing to pull a rabbit out of a hat to save her stepsister.
I pocketed my keys and slipped out, shutting the door behind me.
“Lucky fuck,” Bront muttered, passing me in the hall.
I rolled my eyes and headed to the can.
Just because she’s got pain in her eyes, that doesn’t mean she’s not gonna be a pain in my ass and doesn’t mean she’s not out to help the enemy fuck us over. Whether it’s because she’s on their side or they’re holding something over her, I’d be keeping my eyes open. I’d get a look at those notebooks, too. Privacy doesn’t exist when you volunteer to be a hostage in exchange for protection in a situation like this.
The clubhouse was already cleared out at this stage other than Bront, who looked like someone coming down off a bender. I knew different. He beat the snot out of Pippa’s abusive dickhead ex last night and came close to losing his prospect cut because he disregarded orders and couldn’t lock down his temper. This is a new side to Ted Bronson, but one I can relate to after doing two years in jail for something not too different. When a man is supposed to protect a woman and falls down on the job, he’s not much of a man. When a man in a position of protection intentionally hurts a woman, he’s a piece of shit.
Bront, Scott, and me were this charter’s prospects until I got my patch a while back. Scott’s been a prospect a little longer, starting out in Sioux Falls and getting transferred here. Bront, a local, started a little after I did.
Scott won’t have to wait much longer for his cut, I’m sure, but Bront might have bought himself an extra six months of prospect duty. And though he’s in the shithouse, he probably earned a little respect from a few brothers at the same time. He got some from me, and bonus that the girl he stood up for seems to deserve it. Not that she’ll decide he’s her hero or throw her pussy at him for it. She’s now hooking up with Spence, Prez’s youngest son, so I can imagine the look on Bront’s mug has at least a bit to do with the fact that after he beat the shit out of her ex last night, she spent the night in Spence’s bed and is on the back of his bike today.