Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 795(@200wpm)___ 636(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 795(@200wpm)___ 636(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Elliot pulled away too late, his skin now throbbing with heat where the man touched him. “You? Looked through records?” He sneered, wary of fighting back further assaults on his bodily autonomy. “I bet the most you’ve ever read is the back of a beer can!”
Anger darkened the biker’s eyes, and he growled, painfully poking his index finger into Elliot’s breast bone. “You think all that polyester you’re wearing and the poodle haircut make you any smarter? I’m a descendant of Laurent Mercier, and I catalogued his history. Television even contacted me last time they made a documentary about the murders!”
Jealousy flared up in Elliot so rapidly he couldn’t keep his face neutral. He’d volunteered to feature as an expert for these kinds of shows time and time again only to always be rejected. He grabbed the biker’s hand to push it away. “Of course you would try to stain William’s name if you’re Mercier spawn.”
The biker leaned over him, a powerful, menacing presence that both made Elliot wish to run and kneel. The scent of him was beyond intoxicating in its masculine rawness, and it added yet another layer to Elliot’s failure.
“I might be a spawn of the Merciers, but at least I know my bloodline. Who are you, you painted mongrel?” the biker hissed.
Elliot was glad he caked on so much of the cheap white foundation, because he could feel his face going slack as the knife of the biker’s words twisted in his guts. “You know who I am. You watch my videos.” It came out weaker than Elliot would have liked. He took a step back and once more assessed the man in front of him from head to toe. Since when were bikers interested in genealogy? This had to be the most bizarre encounter he’d ever had, and Elliot had met some pretty strange people in his life. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the man’s face, even the gravesite forgotten.
The biker smirked. “I will watch every single one of your videos, wannabe count, and I will rebuke all your fantasies with true facts!”
Something slotted into place in Elliot’s mind, even though it seemed outlandish. Could it be possible that a man like this…? “You’re Tr_Knight.” Elliot’s online nemesis, always leaving nasty comments, always fighting over who Laurent Mercier was, what William did, always ready to quote some obscure references that had Elliot furious and deleting comments. He was standing right in front of him, handsome in jeans and leather, and with a gun hidden somewhere on his person.
The biker blinked, visibly puzzled, but he wasn’t denying Elliot’s suggestion. Oh, fucking hell. He was Tr_Knight! “So what? You can’t delete my voice here!”
Elliot swallowed and dared to step closer, completely mesmerized despite all the offenses he’d had to suffer through so far. He’d always pictured Tr_Knight as some retired geezer with too much time on his hands. “So… so you’re a member of the motorcycle club that lives in William Fane’s home?”
Tr_Knight pushed at Elliot’s chest with so much strength it sent Elliot’s lanky body staggering back. His heel slipped down the ditch left by the authorities, and he gasped, gravity already turning his stomach as he was about to fall into the muddy hole.
Tr_Knight’s arms came to the rescue as quickly as they’d earlier attacked, and within a split-second Elliot was once again on stable ground. He didn’t have much time to recuperate with his nemesis getting into his face. “It’s not Fane’s home. Fane rotted in the ground somewhere beyond the fucking cemetery. Even the priest washed his hands of that motherfucker.”
Elliot pouted in frustration. It was true. Even in death William had been denied the respect and dignity he deserved. And yet there was a kind of elation in Elliot’s chest. He’d never had such a passionate argument on this topic in real life. “So you could show me around, grant me access. I promise to not touch anything and not bother the motorcycle club. All I want is to see what is left of Fane’s mansion.” The way the biker was gripping Elliot’s elbow was making him both hot and cold at the same time. The threat of violence was in the air. Tr_Knight could just as easily pull Elliot closer as he could push him into the ditch and cover the body with fresh dirt.
Tr_Knight’s nostrils flared, and he barked, “No way in hell. You’ll leave now, and if I ever see you snooping around here again, there will be hell to pay!”
It was Elliot’s cue to back away. Despite his sudden pull to Tr_Knight, the man was most likely not only straight but homophobic too, and Elliot didn’t have a death wish, no matter how many times it’s been suggested he did.
“Why does it bother you so much that William and I have a connection?” he asked but was already stepping back farther.