Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I rolled my eyes but did as he asked. For appearances more than anything. I didn’t have a life outside of this job, because this job, this story, was my life. Apart from daily calls to my sister, and usually my mother, father, or brother.
I spent as much time as I could at the bar for obvious reasons, but to stave off the loneliness too. The quiet. I wasn’t used to it. Though you couldn’t call hanging out at my crappy apartment ‘quiet’ since I heard the couple beside me screaming at each other, both when they were fighting and making up. There was always a far-off siren, or a close up one. City noise did little to drown out silent explosions, gunfire, screams, that could be heard nowhere but on the inside of my head.
Despite the fact I was at the bar, with the club for a story, it was giving me something I didn’t get in my quiet hometown with my family.
Chaos.
The dangerous kind.
But was there any other?
I winked at Claw, gave a serious looking Hansen a wave and kissed Henry on the cheek. “If you’re so convinced you’re a genie, then I’ll buy you an outfit.”
His chuckle was throaty and raspy, showing the pack a day he smoked. “You find one in my size, I’ll wear it.”
I made a silent promise to myself to scour the internet for just that, Henry was a man of his word.
I got my purse and jacket from the small back office that I was pretty sure was just a converted broom closet. I slung my jacket over my purse as I exited to the back parking lot. I was still getting used to the balmy New Mexico air. Even though it was nearing midnight, the air had a dampness to it, the sun still lingering in the breeze.
The parking lot was oddly silent for the night, though this was the back entrance, so not as busy as the front. I heard some muttered curses and shouts from the front where a lot of men and women lingered by the Harleys smoking, since Henry—despite the fact he was a smoker himself—had a strict no smoking policy. I was glad of it too. I hated smelling of stale cigarette smoke in college, no matter how much I washed my hair.
I didn’t feel unsafe as my heels drowned out the rowdiness of the bar. I may have been in a dangerous situation if the Sons found out what I was doing, but for now, I was a fringe part of the club, and that meant I was protected. And more importantly, I didn’t really mean enough to hit deep.
“You tell me who was in on the hit, or you die.”
The cold promise filtered through the air from the alley to my left.
My keys tumbled to the ground.
Not from the death threat.
From the voice.
The one that came straight from the grave.
My feet moved before my mind did.
To the alley.
Toward the voice of a dead man.
Chapter Three
Jagger
He knew the piece of shit wasn’t going to talk.
That’s why he’d dragged him from the SUV he’d had him in the trunk of to the alley. Plan was to wait for the new bartender to leave and get this asshole into the bar so the club could interrogate him. They didn’t usually do such things in civilian environments, but they owned the bar now and he needed a fucking drink.
He’d heard the new bartender was a piece. He thought idly about hitting that as he pistol-whipped the bloodied and bound man in front of him. He could do with some fresh pussy. A month on the road chasing ghosts and stale leads made him antsy. He’d had no one to kill and no one to fuck. He needed at least one of the two on the regular to keep him even. Or as close as he got these days.
Jagger heaved the man up so he stood. Leaned on one foot really, since he’d already kneecapped him trying to get info. The man was crying now, tears, saliva, and blood mixing together on his swollen and blackening face. Jagger felt no pity. This was one of the men responsible for killing his whole chapter. He hated him even more for the fact he couldn’t even handle a beating yet somehow he helped take out some of the most ruthless motherfuckers he’d ever met.
“I don’t know anything,” the man sobbed. “I was hired, man. I got paid a lot of money to turn up at the club, Christmas day. Same as all the other guys.”
Jagger tightened his grip on his piece. “And where are the other guys?”
“I don’t know! None of us knew each other. Everyone hired, same as me. Knew what had to be done, everyone had specific instructions. I was meant to take out the old guy—”