Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
It’s more impressive than I thought it would be, an old fashioned stone church complete with bell tower and stained glass windows, surrounded by a wall that’s been added to over the years. There’s the old school building behind the church, and there’s another house that’s probably where the priest used to live. Their compound isn’t as big as the Eagles’, but if I wasn’t so terrified, I’d almost think it was kind of cool.
Doesn't really matter. I'm not here to sightsee.
I pull right up to their front gate, getting a curious look from the guys on watch. They're a couple of burly guys, one of them with a thick beard, the other has hair cut into a short, greasy mohawk. He's got head tattoos that look like they hurt. A lot.
The second guy comes around to my window and knocks on it for me to roll it down.
“Not a great time to visit, honey.” He leers at the little bit of cleavage my shirt shows. “But if you're looking for a little company, I might be able to sneak you in.”
God, after having been with Sledge, Phoenix and Havoc, it's like being hit on by a pile of garbage. But I flip my hair and give him a look like I know what I’m doing. “I'm looking for Grinder. He’s expecting me.”
The guy raises a suspicious eyebrow that makes me think of a fuzzy worm crawling up his forehead, but he pulls out his phone and backs away from the car, making a call. He nods and motions to the other guard to open the gate. “Pull in around the back of the church, to the main doors into the low building. He's meeting you there. Just park in front of the doors.” Then he waves me through.
I've done it. God, I've done it. If I thought I was in over my head with the Screaming Eagles, I’m sinking fast here today, caught in a riptide I don’t know how to break out of.
If I live, the guys are going to be so pissed.
Too late now. As I pull up to the front doors of what used to be the school, they open, revealing Matt, a.k.a. Grinder. It's weird seeing him in a cut and motorcycle boots after meeting him in hoodies and dad jeans, but somehow it’s more fitting, like I could sense he wasn’t what he seemed even before I knew why.
Either way, that bastard has my daughter.
Drawing a deep breath, I open the driver door and get out.
“Glad you came to your senses,” he says with a wide grin that makes an icy shiver crawl down my spine.
He leads me into the school, which has been converted into their barracks. On one side, there are windows that look out into a square courtyard. It looks like a hangout zone, with grills and tables set up, but right now it’s full of motorcycles. On the opposite side from where I came in, there's an opening through the first floor of the two-story building that bikes, or even a car, could come in through. On the other side, some of the windows have curtains and look like they are probably where the bikers live, and others have stacks of boxes and crates.
Grinder walks ahead like he’s giving me a tour. “You know, I really didn't expect you to show up, but I'm glad you did. I figured you’d choose the kid over those assholes.”
“Why do you even want us here?” I ask him honestly. “I don't understand. Did you move into the neighborhood to be close to us? Or did you see me after?” If I keep him talking, maybe I’ll learn something useful. Besides, until I know what the heck he’s thinking, I can't really know what to expect.
He chuckles. “You don’t remember me. I think I only saw you once or twice. Maybe if you’d visited your man more often you would have. Dodger and I were cell mates right up to when he got shanked.”
Oh no. That can't bode well.
“He was a good guy. Good friend. Didn’t fucking deserve what he got. None of us did,” he says darkly. “Not from the fucking Eagles and not from the goddamned prison system. They didn’t give a fuck when he died.”
“What's that got to do with me, though? And Mia?”
“Well, I promised him. Didn’t I? He talked about you a lot after we were locked up. He was fucking pissed you took off. Made him look weak to have his woman leave him. I felt bad for him, really did. But Dodger wasn’t fucking perfect, either. He was real fucking good at pissing people off, and eventually he pissed off the wrong person. He bled out in my arms while the guards sat around debating if it was bad enough to bother with. And you know what he made me promise? The thing that meant more to him than anything else in the fucking world?”