Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
But at lunchtime, I put down my tools.
I had made up my mind.
All morning I had imagined all the unpleasant ways I was going to inflict revenge on Barrett for what he did to Cassidy. But they were just fantasies. Because there was only one way I could handle this.
I was going to put a club hit on Barrett.
Being a part of a club as big as the Kings of Mayhem, there were ways you were expected to handle things. In this case, going up to the son of a famous politician and shooting him in the face for what he did was not in the best interest in the club. If it was, believe me, I’d already be on my bike.
But taking the asshole out quietly was in the best interests of the entire fucking world.
It would also mean Cassidy would be free. No more running. No more looking over her shoulder.
So, my only option was a club hit.
Taking my truck, I drove to the clubhouse. But just as I pulled up and parked, my phone rang.
It was Wyatt in California. He rang every day at 12:30.
“Just letting you know your boy is still in town,” he said.
Wyatt was a few years older than me with a beard and a beer belly. Originally from Texas, he had a deep, western drawl. He and his two brothers ran a small private investigation business outside of their involvement with the Kings of Mayhem California chapter. His brothers used technology to find and track people, using things such as phone hacking and vehicle tracking, while Wyatt provided the eyes on the ground. He often boasted they could find anyone no matter how hard they tried not to be found.
“I’ll tell you, Barrett Silvermane is one kinky son of a bitch. Followed him to Club Throb last night. Stayed for about three hours. Do you know what Club Throb is, Chance? It’s a fucking BDSM club. You know how I know that, Chance? It’s because when I agreed to this gig, you said I had to follow him into any bar, club, or public place he went to. Guess who now holds a five-hundred-dollar membership to fucking Club Throb. This very straight, very not-interested in men in gimp outfits with balls in their mouths getting fucked by a man in an executioner’s outfit man! Three hours, Chance. Three hours of all that and more. That was some eye-opening shit.” He sighed. “This guy doesn’t just like women. He digs the men too. I’m telling you, this guy is greedy.”
“I’ll reimburse you the membership costs.”
“Hell yes you will. But can you reimburse me those three fucking hours back? No, you can’t. That is some shit I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.”
“Was it really that bad, Wyatt?”
To answer me, he hung up in my ear.
Wyatt wasn’t into that shit, but I knew him well enough to know he would’ve found it fascinating. Like a car wreck. Or a plane crash. No one actually liked those things, but fuck me it was hard to look away when they were happening.
Inside the clubhouse, I found Bull in a booth, talking with Red, our cook.
“I need to talk,” I said.
Going by my tone, he knew I meant right away. He took me into the room we used for chapel.
We were barely in the room before I said, “I want to put a club hit on someone.”
Surprise rippled across his face as he closed the door behind us.
“Who?”
“Barrett Silvermane.”
It took him a moment to recognize the name.
“You mean, the Barrett Silvermane? As in the son of Kerry Silvermane?” He took off his glasses. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“He’s a raping psychopath.”
Bull moved to the wooden cabinet across the room and poured two shots of Patron. Handing one to me, he downed the other one himself then moved to the head of the table and sat down.
“You’d better tell me the story. And don’t leave out any of the fucking details.”
I sat down and told him everything. About Cassidy being fostered. About her foster brother’s obsession with her. The branding. The rapes. The violence. The ongoing torment. The threat to her life.
“You’re telling me Cassidy is actually the missing daughter of one of the most prominent politicians in the country?”
“Yes. But this stays between you and me. A club hit doesn’t require the vote of the other members. It only needs the approval of the president and VP. I know Cade will approve it.”
My brother was our VP. He had already put two bullets in a murdering rapist a few years ago when a psychopath kidnapped Indy.
“That may be right, but as president I have the governing power to veto it before it goes any further.”
“Is that what you’re doing? You’re going to veto my request?”