Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
She sends a frightened look towards the guy following her, who doesn’t seem to care. “Let me go!”
It takes everything in me not to step in, but this isn’t our club, and she’s not my woman. Not my business. But when she cowers from his touch and struggles away, I just can’t stay still. Story of my fucking life. Badass always says I need to think before I act, but there's a reason they fucking call me Animal.
My arm goes around his throat, cutting off his air while the other goes under his jaw, forcing him to look up. "What the f—" he starts before I squeeze harder.
"Hands off the lady or I'm going to rip your fucking head off," I hiss into his ear. "She told you to let her be." She looks like a club slut, sure, but they’re there because they want to be, and she looks anything but willing.
His face goes slightly green, but I'm not going to fucking let up until he does. When he lets go, she stumbles backwards into Badass, who’s there to make sure she doesn’t fall, and give her the chance to pull her clothes back into place. A few people glance our way, but no one seems particularly eager to help the fucker. It might have to do with Quickshot fiddling with the grip of his gun, or maybe no one gives a fuck.
"What the fuck is this shit? I told you to keep an eye on her." A big bruiser of an Unwanted pushes through the crowd. I don't know a lot of them, but I know him. Crusher, their chief officer. As ugly as he is brutal. He grabs the girl's arm and pulls her away from us. "If you're gonna fight, then take it the fuck outside. I don’t care who you fucking are. If you want a shot at uh… Sugar, you’re going to have to wait and bid like everyone else."
Bid? What the fuck?
The girl looks at me with pleading blue eyes and despair written across her face as he drags her away. The pieces fall into place, some of them anyway. She’s that girl from the other night. The one at the Eagles’ Roost, looking for her sister. The one with the soft fucking lips. What the fuck is she doing here?
No fucking way she’s one of their sluts. She’s way too good for them. And selling? Something’s off. Seriously off.
“You recognize her too, right?”
Badass nods. "Did he say what I thought he said?" His question is quiet enough that only we hear it. "You think they’re keeping a stable here? Eagle-eye's going to fucking go mental on these assholes if they’re trafficking."
Quickshot’s expression might as well be carved in stone, and he has that look that says he’s calculating angles and chances in his head, deciding who to shoot first. “When she was at the Eagles’ Roost, maybe she was checking things out.”
“No way. She was there for her sister and left right after. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I don’t like it. Let’s grab her and run,” I suggest.
He shakes his head. "Stand down. We can’t help anyone if we’re dead, and as much as I hate to say it, there are more of these fuckers than there are us. Eagle-eye needs to hear about this, and we’ll be back. Memorize their faces, because they’re dead men walking."
A low growl of agreement is all I manage to get out. I can’t take my eyes off the girl. What did he call her? Sugar? That’s about as fucking likely to be on her birth certificate as Animal is on mine, but it’s all I’ve got to go on. I didn’t give a shit about the drugs, but I'm not letting my eyes off the auction now. “I’m not fucking leaving her here.”
"Sold! And don’t forget to register these with the appropriate authorities!" yells the old biker running the auction, getting a round of laughter. Someone just scored a crate of stolen semi-autos, and as the crate's cleared away, Crusher pulls Sugar up on the stage. "We've got a special treat for you guys tonight. Last lot of the evening."
There’s a fake smile stretched across her ghost white face, and he has an iron grip on her slender wrist. My fist clenches in anger. I want to wring their necks, tear her off the fucking stage and drag her the fuck outta here.
"Animal," Badass whispers in warning. My brother knows me too well. He puts a warning hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off.
For a moment the room goes quiet. I wanna think that there's a fucking shred of decency in here and people are shocked, but I’m giving them too much credit.
“Show us the goods!” Someone yells from the back, and Crusher laughs.