Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Ryker’s hands curled around the handle in a vain attempt to push it away and free his unworthy neck, but the struggle only boosted the pleasure of making him suffer. He was now like a beetle stuck under a human's thumb. Hammer exhaled, trapped between the desire to lead this to a righteous climax and upholding the status quo.
He’d worked so hard to make his current life comfortable. Was this mutt worth throwing it all away?
“Please. Never again. You know Lion wouldn’t let it slide if you killed me,” Ryker rasped, watching him with eyes about to pop out of their sockets. He didn’t look so pretty anymore.
The fucker was right. Without solid evidence, Lion would side with his brother.
With a grunt of frustration, Hammer swung his tool of destruction at the expensive TV. The black surface cracked with a desperate screech, sending sparks into the air, and it gave Hammer endless satisfaction when he realized half a second later that Ryker had screamed.
Maybe that would be enough to straighten him out.
“You pull that kind of shit again, and this will be your head,” he warned, pointing at the TV as Ryker watched him with a tense set to his mouth. “And now, call your fucking brother back, because that’s why I’m here, bitch.”
The only silver lining of this disgusting encounter would be having a hook in the fucker for life. From now on, Ryker wouldn’t dare joke about Hammer being a grump or not needing a Halloween costume.
“Y-yeah,” Ryker muttered and tentatively reached for the phone on the bedside table as if he suspected Hammer was attempting to lure him into a false sense of security and then slam ten pounds of metal on his hand. A tempting prospect. All those tiny bones in the hand crushed… Ryker wouldn’t be able to ride his bike for months.
But Hammer cut the ties of temptation, growled at Ryker one more time, and walked out, leaving the pedo to his worries. He didn’t bother closing the front door behind him and headed for his bike, eager to let off the steam in some other way.
It wasn’t too late to knock at Stefani’s door, was it?
He set off with a screech of rubber against asphalt, wishing he could bleach his mind of the images he’d seen on Ryker’s screen. Hammer’s morbid fascinations were nothing in comparison. Plus, he didn’t fucking jerk off to them. He’d learned to control his urges, to satisfy his dark appetites with people who deserved it, those who chose to be in the club’s way. But now fantasies of doing harm to Ryker sizzled under his helmet like the tastiest bacon.
He was halfway to Stefani’s when his phone vibrated with the insistence of a trapped wasp, so he stopped on the side of the road to pick it up.
Lion.
“What is it? I’m busy, and if Ryker hasn’t called you by now, he’s got shit for brains.”
“We have a situation,” Lion said in a grim tone that indicated the urgency of the call. And while still focused on the perspective of squeezing Stefani’s tits, Hammer’s mind slowly turned toward Lion’s words.
“What happened?”
“You need to see it. Come to Frank’s.”
Hammer took a deep breath. If he was being called over to the Wreck & Repair junkyard, seeing a dead body—or a couple of them—was almost guaranteed.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he said and hung up, because whatever else needed to be said, couldn’t be voiced over the phone.
Stefani would need to wait a bit longer and maybe rethink her mind games.
The junk yard was quite remote, and in order to get to it, Hammer had to drive through a large swath of woodland, which ended at an open gate. He followed the asphalt road between tall mounts of tires, rusty cars, and other junk, until the landscape opened into a massive flat area, which housed Frank’s bungalow and several specialized vehicles.
Frank was an associate of the club they all had on speed dial when a body needed to be disappeared. Frank and his associates were all gay, but it wasn’t an issue to the club as long as the job was done. The vast area of trash was a dystopian wasteland where no one asked questions, especially the dead.
All of Hammer’s biker brothers had already arrived and were gathered in a circle close to their rides, but he also spotted Frank and two of his men. Even the weirdo dressed like some Mad Max Tarzan was here, crouching on a pile of discarded furniture with a spear made out of junk Hammer never let it show, but he was unnerved by this dude, because he couldn’t work out what his deal was. He’d heard rumors that Jag was a feral child brought up here on scraps. Some of the bikers liked to suggest the weirdo was a cannibal too, but Hammer called bullshit on that.