Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Too bad you weren’t cell mates, huh?” jokes Wild Child. He grins at the thought. He's switched out the purple streak in his hair for green this week.
“They would've fucking had me on murder,” growls Eagle-eye. “If I could make sure that fucker never even crossed Miriam or Emily’s minds again, I'd take the opportunity in a fucking heartbeat.”
Fuck yeah. Hawthorne might technically be my father-in-law, but if I was in a cell with him, I'd do the same fucking thing.
That fucker never gave a shit about the women in his care. He tried to have Emily killed—his own fucking daughter—never mind the fact that he thought knocking her around was good fucking parenting. He's the kind of man that inspires you to be better than him, and that's the best fucking thing I can say about him.
“So let me see if I follow.” Ripper scratches his chin with his good hand. His wrist stump on the other arm doesn't have anything attached right now. “A bunch of unknown fuckers gun down some mob goons. The cops kidnapped that girl to set us up and use it as an excuse to get you out of the way. The Giordanos might be behind it, but that’s only based on the word of one of the gun fuckers, and someone in the club shut him up good so we can’t even fucking press the truth out of him. Oh, and Hawthorne's up our asses again. I know he's a manipulative shit with money and connections, but that seems like a lot of fucking work. It’s not like we don’t have other enemies.”
“Fair.” Eagle-eye nods. “But there’s one more piece of the puzzle that points in his direction.”
“And that is?”
“The detective Kaylee told you about? Harris? He used to be on Hawthorne’s staff. He got punched straight back to beat cop when his boss went away, but he was on that fucking task force that Hawthorne tried to use to take us out six years ago.”
“Thor’s balls,” says Viking with a laugh. “Only you would go into the fucking slammer and come out with more dirt than when you went in.”
Eagle-eye grunts. “Never fucking underestimate the power of gossip when people don’t have shit else to trade in, boys. There’s a lot of fucking balls in motion right now, and I’ll be honest. I don’t know how they all fit together, but our number one priority right now is to stop the bleed. We need to find the fucking traitor.”
“Yeah, I think—”
Someone hammers on the door like they're trying to break it down. “Trouble!” Sounds like Bear. I'm surprised the door's fucking holding, to be honest. I let him in.
He looks ready to claw someone’s face. “Luca just called Alessa. They have Kaylee stashed at her old apartment, and news just came through that the police are mobilizing. I don't know how they fucking found out this fast, but we need to get them moved.”
“Motherfucker! When I find out who the fuck it is, Jupiter and King are going to be shitting his fingers for a week.”
Wild Child snickers. “I didn’t know you liked finger food.”
I smack the back of his head. “Let's go. They're gonna need support.”
The guys pause, looking between me and Eagle-eye, but Prez nods. “You heard what he said. Every single fucking member needs to be accounted for. Anyone who gives you shit? Assume they can’t be trusted. I’d rather take the traitor with us than leave him here with our fucking women and kids.”
We pound down the stairs and start rounding up the boys. Everyone from blooded members old as Snake to the freshest kids. We need all the manpower we can get. I grab the nearest prospect, Mad Dog. “We need you guys on bikes, pronto. Stick with your group. It’s time to show us you what you’ve got.”
He snaps a nod and runs for his bike.
Shrapnel's already straddling his ride, ready to go. Deuce is still getting his shit together. Beast gets a pass for his injury and he was in fucking jail with Eagle-eye when Scar was killed. “Where the fuck is Reaper?”
“Coming!” He comes running out of the garage, rolling his bike with him.
“Where are we going?” asks Mad Dog as he settles into the saddle. “What the fuck's going on?”
“Just keep up with the formation. Shit's gonna get hot and we don’t need a repeat of the last fuck up.” I wait impatiently for Deuce and Mad Dog.
“Do I have time to fuel up? Was gonna fill later today.” Shrapnel sounds embarrassed for being caught unprepared.
Deuce rolls up and looks over Shrapnel's shoulder. “You're good.”
Something about his answer itches my brain. “What do you mean?”
His eyes go wide for a split second before he schools his reaction. “Huh? He’s got half a tank. City’s not that fucking big.”