Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
It’s quiet when I step out of his room, and I wonder how the fuck I’m going to get home.
Chapter 8
Milo
“To see such a beauty sleep, then turn into a gremlin… well, it’s a beautiful thing.”
She watches as my tongue darts out and licks my scar, her eyes tracking every movement.
“Mr. Savage, you know you can’t keep this up.”
“Do I not pay enough to get me out of these things?” I remind her. Rebecca Dark has been my family’s lawyer for over fifteen years. Usually, I don’t have to pay a visit to her office, but today it was necessary.
“You do, sir, but when you leave witnesses who can identify you, it makes my job a lot harder.”
“Who is the witness?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You aren’t going to kill them, Milo.”
I smile at her. “Do you think you can tell me what to do, Rebecca?”
She shuffles some of her papers around and shakes her head. “I was doing no such thing. Let me handle it, and we can go from there.”
I stand from the seat on the other side of her desk. “No, I think it’s time I took matters into my own hands.” I give her a curt nod before spinning on my heels and walking away.
She calls my name as I walk out of her office, and when I don’t turn around, I hear her cuss at me, and I shake my head at the old bat. My father hired her when he was president of the MC, and while Rebecca is good, she has been lacking tremendously compared to how she was with my father.
As I walk closer, I see Morris already outside on his bike, waiting for me. He sits there, helmet in hand, watching me.
“Where are we going?” he asks with a slow and steady smile.
“To find a witness.”
He nods, accepting the plan without a single question.
Two towns over, I find the man who decided it was the best decision to tell the police what he saw when he was in my town. I’m guessing this is his idea of hiding, and to be honest, it’s the worst attempt I have ever had to unravel.
“Is he really…” Morris trails off, not sure what else to say while staring intently.
“He is.” I nod.
This guy—the one who witnessed me kill someone—is standing on his front porch, music blaring, a bottle of beer in one hand and a joint in the other while he dances, naked.
It’s dark as we walk down the street toward the idiot’s house. We left our bikes parked two blocks away so he didn’t notice us as we stepped up onto his porch. Morris takes a seat on one of the swings, and I stand at the top of the steps, blocking any escape. Usually, I would send my men to deal with any dirty work, but I have some aggression that needs to be worked out… on his fucking face.
And I am furious!
The guy takes another puff of his joint and turns his naked ass around, swinging his fucking limp cock in the air.
Luckily for him, his neighbors aren’t close enough to hear whatever shit he has going on. The minute his groggy eyes open, he spots Morris, and he goes to step away but realizes I’m blocking his path.
“Hello, Huston,” I say, smiling at him. His eyes go wide, and he drops the bottle of beer at his feet, trying to back up the other way. I pull the gun from my pants and point it at him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’d hate to mess up…” I wave the gun around and then point it at his cock, “… that thing.”
His hands shoot down to cover his cock, but he forgets the joint in his hand, which proceeds to burn his pubic hair, giving off the most disgusting smell.
Morris stands, steps over the broken bottle and motions for Huston to go inside. He stays where he is, covering his junk as I wave the gun at him to follow Morris. He turns, his hands not moving, and steps inside past Morris. I follow and shut the door behind me.
“I know who you both are,” Huston says.
“Good, we would hope for nothing less,” Morris replies with a smile as he scans the room. I stand where I am at the door and watch.
“You can’t kill me. They’ll know it’s you.”
“Will they?”
His bloodshot eyes find mine. “They will. I’ve already given my statement.” His voice is laced with panic, and his shaking hands give away how he’s feeling at this moment.
“Do they still take a dead man’s statement into consideration?” I ask Morris, to which he shrugs.
“Who cares.”
“Yeah, who cares,” I say, agreeing with him, and lift the gun and shoot Huston directly between the eyes. My father started teaching me to shoot when I was five, and now I never miss.