Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
He neared the country club. Cars were lined up along the rural roadside for half a mile. This was no little party. How was he supposed to get in there and blend with a bunch of suits?
Dog parked his bike off the beaten path and jogged across the road toward the club. The sun had nearly set, making his presence less noticeable. He wished it had been darker.
The drone of fake conversations already grated on his nerves. The practiced laughs, empty compliments, and prideful bullshit was opposite to life at the club. He wanted to be back there right now—with Sable.
He scanned the crowds, weaving around the throngs of people. His leather jacket was zipped up, and he tried his best to keep off the radar. If Little or Grass recognized him, this was over.
They had private security, and he made sure not to make eye contact with any of them. He grabbed a flute of champagne as he spun around, pretending to belong. Where the fuck was Sable? Beth said she’d be here tonight.
He made his way to the building next to the pools, peering in the windows as he sipped his drink. It tasted like sugar and piss, so he dumped the rest into the grass. He preferred the hard stuff.
Inside, he noticed a lot of girls. A couple of them looked scared, and they weren’t dressed like the women mingling outside. He kept moving, taking notes as he tried to get a better view into the room. As he rounded the building, he stopped before turning the corner. There were a lot of gruff voices, and he recognized one of them—the prez of a rival club. He wouldn’t put it past him to bend over for Grass. The end of the Hell’s Slaves MC was at the top of Grass’s agenda. While some clubs were happy to be “yes men” for the right price, even for crooked politicians, Forge wasn’t one of them. Sure, he’d do their dirty work, but on his own terms.
He went back the same way, coming face-to-face with one of the security guards. Dog towered over him.
“You gonna blow your fucking whistle?”
“You on the guest list?” asked the guard.
“I work with Grass. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate you pissing me off,” he said. “Why don’t you make sure all these rich bitches have their glasses full?”
The guard backed off, but Dog did have an imposing presence, even when he wanted to appear approachable. He opened the first door he came across and bit the bullet, entering the building. He had no clue who was inside, but he was getting nowhere searching the grounds for Sable.
There was an older guy stuffed in a suit, two young girls on either side of him. His hand under one of their dresses. He knew whores, and this didn’t look consensual to him.
A cop approached him, giving him pause. Bikers and cops never meshed well, especially when one was trying to steal his woman.
“Like anything you see?”
“Huh?”
“Looking to buy something long-term or is this a one-night thing?”
It took Dog a minute to catch on. He scanned the room with new eyes. They were fucking trafficking girls. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Right now, he wished he had the club at his back. This was solid proof they could use against Grass. It would mean Sable could come home.
“Maybe an hour thing. You have any virgins?” asked Dog.
The cop smirked. “You have expensive taste.”
Dog shrugged, following the cop as he was led through the spacious connecting rooms. There were nasty suits drooling over young women in every corner, like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was surreal when this was supposed to be the party for a would-be politician. Grass was more fucked up than Peterson.
When they emerged into a long, narrow hallway, Dog unzipped his jacket and pulled out his gun, knocking out the cop before lowering him to the ground. He patted him down, taking his radio and gun before taking the staircase into the basement.
There were crates upon crates of automatic rifles, an assortment on display on a table. Fuck! This wasn’t a good position for him to be in. Dog pulled out his cell and called Forge, but there was no signal in the basement. He needed to get out of the country club but didn’t want to leave without Sable. They wouldn’t leave a cache of weapons this size alone, so Grass and his men couldn’t be far.
Dog looked for another way out of the basement when he heard footsteps coming down after him. Voices grew louder. They had to have found the cop’s body upstairs.
He wasn’t worried about jail. He was worried about not getting out of here alive.
****
Sable touched up her lipstick in the power room. She hated wearing makeup, but Hank wanted her to look the part. He said it made her appear older and more sophisticated. She’d never fit into his crowd, and she didn’t want to.