Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Putnam doesn’t have any bank accounts or anything legal tied to his name, so the paper trail grows semi-cold. But hopefully the guys can come up with more.
“Hey, Prez,” a feminine voice purrs from my office doorway.
Stormy.
I let out a sigh and close out of what I was looking at before turning in my seat to regard her. She looks like a total slut today in her short shorts and fitted tank that dips low, nearly showing her nipples that are poking through the fabric. Her long blond hair hangs in waves in front of her shoulders and her red lips have been painted up.
“Hey,” I grunt out.
“You seen Filter?”
“He’s busy.”
She pouts and prances into my office like it’s her goddamn right. Stormy has gotten too damn comfortable around here. Whereas the guys all live on the compound because we’re a fucking family—Stormy overstays her welcome, shacking up with Filter like she’s his old lady.
“Whatcha workin’ on?”
“Cut the shit, Stormy. What do you want?”
Her lips part in shock at my tone. “Who says I want something?”
I glower at her, not in the fucking mood for games.
“Fine, I need money. Filter always gives me some when I need to buy stuff, but I can’t find him and he’s not answering his phone.”
“How much do you need?”
“Not much.”
I pull out my wallet and drop it on the desk. I’ve got about five hundred on me.
“Six grand is all,” she says, shrugging.
Excuse the fuck out of me. “Six grand? What the hell do you need six grand for?” I bellow. “I fucking feed your ass, clothe your ass, and put a roof over your ass.”
She flinches. “No need to get all pissy, Koyn. I just thought you’d have it is all.”
“Of course I have it, goddammit. But I’m not handing it over without you telling me what the fuck it is you need it for.”
“Boobs. These are ugly.” She squeezes her tits through her tank and bites on her bottom lip.
I whip open my wallet and toss a hundred at her. “Go buy a fucking bra. There. Problem solved. Now get the hell out of my office.”
Her face burns red, but she snatches up the bill before stomping off. I stop her with a sharp bark of her name. She turns around and glares icily at me.
“The Royal Bastards are not a fucking bank,” I growl. “If I ever catch you taking advantage of any of these guys—especially Filter—I will make you a past problem, Stormy. You can be the bottom of Keystone Lake’s problem. You feel me?”
She swallows hard. “Yeah, I feel you.”
“Get the fuck out of my sight.”
I need a goddamn cigarette.
Most everyone’s in the garage, working on shit, when Copper and Halo strut in with their laptops. From the leather couch that sits in a corner, I nod at them to join me. Stormy is practically dry humping Filter from behind as he attempts to change the oil on his bike. Bizzy stares at her ass like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. I’m thankful to get a reprieve from this shit.
“Find anything?” I ask, blowing out smoke and stubbing my cigarette out in the ashtray on the table in front of me.
It’s cool this late afternoon because of the morning thunderstorm, so it feels nice sitting in the garage and listening to classic rock Payne has playing on the stereo. Copper and Halo drop down beside me on either side.
“Anything from Dragon?”
“Yeah,” Halo grunts. “He’s on his way. Had to fix his hair.”
Copper snorts. “Fucking pussy.”
The pussy in question saunters into the garage, grinning like a goddamn fool. He has his own laptop tucked under his arm. If he were walking down Rodeo Drive, they’d think he was modeling for a fucking biker clothing line. He doesn’t even look like a real biker. If I didn’t know what a crazy-ass psychopath he was, I’d think he was a goddamn poser too.
He pushes away the ashtray and sits down on the coffee table in front of me, his green eyes glittering with delight. “Hey, Prez.”
“Did you bathe in Axe aftershave before coming out here?” I complain. “You fucking reek, man.”
He smirks. “I smell lickable. Ask Stormy.”
“He does smell lickable,” she confirms from across the garage.
This earns her a swat to her ass by Filter.
“Whatever,” I grumble, eager to get this shit on with. “What did you three amigos find?”
“We can save the best for last,” Dragon says in a cryptic way that makes me want to shake out everything he knows right this second.
Copper launches into his findings before I get the chance. He pulls open his laptop and shows me a series of pictures. “There’s an open case on him in Texas. A string of murders. Teenage girls. Brutally beaten and raped. DNA matches Putnam. But once he took the kid and fell off the map, the case grew cold. There’s a warrant out for him, but nothing else in the database.”