Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
And slam straight into Hotel.
6
Stone
Well, shit. If I’d known that finding the Cage was as easy as kissing a redhead, I’d have kissed a few more.
Or maybe just kissed that one. Cherry. Fuck, her mouth was so sweet and hot. Maybe the rest of her was sweet and hot, too. I can’t remember much beyond her bringing me a beer while I was talking to Gunner—while he was warning me away from her, because the girl was obviously a fucking mess.
But I like messes. So that wasn’t going to slow me down.
Now Gunner’s probably laughing his ass off. For sure he’s going to come at me with a smugfucking ‘I told you so,’ because I woke up about a half hour ago feeling like absolute shit. Like a hangover, but worse. Probably from whatever Cherry slipped into my drink.
I should’ve known. That girl had trouble written all over her. And she looked real nervous the whole damn time.
Except when I was kissing her. So I hope she’s here, so I can find her and kiss her again.
Wherever the fuck here is. Some kind of cell, with bars at the front and overhead, but the walls are made of wood. An aluminum roof forms a peaked ceiling, with ductwork and pipes going every which way. Lights are off, but there must be more cells like this one. I can hear other men snoring and shuffling around on their beds.
I’m buck naked on my own bunk, which doesn’t bother me much. Except I don’t know where my kutte is. I don’t give a shit about the rest of my clothes. But my Hellfire Riders vest, yeah—I care a hell of a lot. Knowing someone took that off me gets my blood going.
But no worries. Because I’ll get it back.
And suddenly it’s playtime. The halogen lights pop on overhead, flooding my cell. Some golden oldies start up, shit I haven’t heard since my dad gave me rides to pee-wee football practice. From all around me come the sounds of men getting their asses out of bed—and that throws me about ten years ahead of pee-wee football and straight into boot camp.
I hated boot camp. Loved everything else about my time in the service. Fucking hated boot camp.
But I know how this works. And the important thing to learn from boot camp isn’t the basic training. Nah, what really matters is getting to know the men around you, figuring out what the people in charge want from you—and how hard you can push back.
Gray sweatpants wait for me by the sink. I drag them on, swallow a couple of handfuls of water, and head over to the front of my cell.
And holy fucking shit. A laugh busts out of me, because straight across a concrete aisle is one of the assholes I’ve been looking for. “Handlebar, you stupid fuck! You’ve got every brother in the Butchers searching for your ass.”
The big biker glances over. A grin spreads across his bearded face and he heads for the bars—moving not quite as easily as I’m used to seeing him move. Got beat up some, then. Either here or in the Cage.
But if it was in the Cage, all that matters is that he won.
“But it was a Hellfire Rider who found us? We’re completely fucked, then.” He smirks, shaking his head. “What brought you looking?”
“They tried to snatch our girl Zoomie a little while back.”
His face darkens. “Did they get her?”
“Nah. But it made us start looking for anyone else who went missing.” And we reached out to the Bedlam Butchers in that search. “Figured out they were nabbing bikers who were winning rally fights.”
“Hold up. You’re telling me that you knew this Cage shit was going on and you still got taken? And I’m the stupid fuck?”
“What the hell can I say? The bait had big red hair and a sweet little ass.”
“Yeah, the red hair did us in, too. One minute I’ve got her choking on my dick while Crash is plowing her pussy from behind, the next we’re here.”
Goddammit. I’m not a possessive man. I don’t give two shits about a woman’s past. And jealousy is a waste of time. Yet the way my gut tightens up, something in me isn’t too thrilled that they’ve had a taste of Cherry, too.
But I knew the girl was trouble before I ever kissed her. So I’m still into it.
“Crash here?” I’m guessing he is. Because if Crash isn’t here, then he’s dead—and Handlebar wouldn’t be smiling or joking. Those two Butchers are as tight as Gunner and me.
“Yeah. Four boxes down.” Handlebar tilts his head to my left, his gaze boring into mine. “He could use some fresh air.”
To get out of here. So Crash is alive, but not doing so good. “There’s no windows to open?”