Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
My hands shake with frustration, the fear I feel both for myself and Mila and the boys having a hard time finding an exit out of my body.
The roar of the bikes eventually fades to nothing, and I don’t move until several minutes after I can no longer hear them.
I have to bang on the front door before Mila opens it, but instead of relief on her face, she’s holding my cut out, rage filling her pretty features.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I take the thing from her hands and shrug it back on.
“Those guys are fucking dangerous,” I mutter.
“And you’re not? Seems you’re in a different fucking biker gang.” She takes a step back when I inch forward, and I hate that she’s scared of me. “I was going to ask you for help, but you’re just as bad, aren’t you? I think I’d rather take my chances with Keres.”
“You’d be a fool if you did. When you get a chance, why don’t you do a little research on my club.” I emphasize the last word so she can understand there’s a difference in what we stand for versus what Keres is involved in. “They knew that Honda was yours, Mila. You’re already on their fucking radar.”
This information makes her freeze.
“Carlen and Janet owe ten grand.”
Her chin quivers. “I don’t have ten grand. I spent everything on their funerals.”
I reach out to her when it looks like she may fall over, but she steadies herself and jerks out of my reach.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“If I thought for a second that ten grand would fix all this shit, I’d give it to them, but Carlen and Janet are in for fifteen a month. I doubt there’s a signed contract that tells when they would’ve been done cooking for Keres.”
She shakes her head as if she can’t believe what I’m saying.
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would they kill them if they wanted to keep making money from them? Maybe Carlen refused, and they were killed?”
“Keres didn’t kill them.” She frowns in my direction. “If someone in Keres murdered them, then Larrick, the president, didn’t order it. I get the vibe that he’s more of a businessman than anything else.”
“This is too much,” she says, a tear running down her cheek.
“We’re wasting time. If they recognize your car then they probably know where you live. The boys aren’t safe.”
“I’m not just going to hand my nephews over to you,” she argues.
“I don’t give a shit if you tag along, Mila, but those boys will be with me.”
Her cheek twitches in irritation.
“Are you really going to let your pride put them in danger?” I challenge.
She continues to glare at me.
I tell her the address and room number of the hotel.
“You have three hours to pack their shit and bring them to me.”
She doesn’t say a word when I turn around and walk out of the house. She isn’t a stupid woman, and her fight right now is with Keres. I know she can accept me for the ally that I am. Our fight can happen later. The safety of those boys is all that fucking matters right now.
Chapter 10
Mila
My hands are trembling as I step outside and lock up the house. Keres isn’t to be messed with. Anyone paying attention in St. Louis knows that they’re the most dangerous group of men, and getting tangled with them is always a bad idea.
Vincent’s truck is at the curb, and I hate him a little more for this fake show of chivalry that he’s displaying, waiting for me to climb inside my car and back out before pulling away himself. The man is either incredibly brave or insanely stupid for standing his ground and facing off with Adrian Larrick a few moments ago. I recognized the man the second I peeked out of the window. Although brutally violent according to rumors, I can’t argue that the president of the Keres MC is also devastatingly handsome. There’s a rugged, bad-boy vibe that swarms around him that has led so many women to their clubhouse. They literally have a fandom of horny women who fight each other in order to spend time with them. I had a friend in school who was obsessed with them, yet she was never able to gain access to their clubhouse.
I pull my car past Vincent’s truck, watching in my rearview mirror as he slowly pulls out behind me. He gave me instructions and a timeline to get the kids to him, but I’ll scream if he follows me home. When he turns right at the third stop sign after I turn left, a strange sense of foreboding fills all the crevices inside of me. I would never get involved with such a dangerous group as the Keres MC, but it looks like I’m a target simply by association.