Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Pulling the lever, she popped open the trunk and scrambled from her car. Keeping one eye on the busy threesome, she hurried around to the rear of her Honda and began to search. Shoving aside an emergency blanket, she lifted the deck-lid and found the lug nut wrench in the tool kit provided to change a flat tire.
Bingo! One clobber with that would definitely ring some bells and maybe give her enough time to escape with her sister.
After slamming the trunk lid shut, she locked her car and made her away around the haphazardly parked vehicles over to the trio. With the lug wrench held down and pinned to her thigh, she kept it out of sight.
Once she got close enough to be heard but still far enough to stay out of arm’s reach, she called out, “Sadie?”
The biker doing the choppy hip-action paused and his head twisted toward Sloane. “What the fuck?” His question was slurred. Not a good sign, but also not unexpected. This was a biker party, after all.
She ignored him and kept her eyes focused on the woman, even though it was too dark to make out her features. “Sadie?”
Oh please let it be her simply for the fact I’ll be able to grab her and go without going deeper into MC territory.
The long-haired man sitting on the hood with his jeans gathered above his knees asked, “What d’fuck she say?”
The woman lifted her head, exposing a spit-shined engorged penis, to glance over at Sloane. “Who the fuck’s Sadie?”
On one hand, Sloane was glad her sister wasn’t the filling in that sex sandwich but on the other, she was disappointed it wasn’t going to be that easy to find her sister.
With a lit cigarette hanging out of his smirking mouth, the biker with his cock still buried in the willing woman asked, “You want in on this, baby?”
She wouldn’t want in on “that” even if she was wearing a full-body condom and completely covered in virucide. “I’ll pass.”
As she turned to head toward the farmhouse, the biker sitting on the hood yelled, “Hey! Don’t fuckin’ go!” His words were just as slurred as his partner’s. “There’s two of us. Could be two of you, too.”
I’d rather type up a fifty page legal memorandum with splinters shoved under my fingernails first.
“You belong to anyone?”
What? “I have to go.”
“Ain’t goin’ nowhere… You claimed?”
Her mouth gaped open when she wasn’t sure how to answer that. Was it better to say yes or no? Shit. She should just pick one and hope it was the best answer. “Yes.”
“Who d’you belong to?”
Shit. “I’m… I’m married.”
“Who d’fuck you married to?” That question sounded a little more hostile.
As she scrambled to come up with a fake name, “My husband,” burst from her. That answer would have to work in a pinch.
“No shit, bitch. Who d’fuck owns you?”
Owns you. She frowned. “Nobody owns me.” What did that even mean?
This conversation was going nowhere fast. It was time for Sloane to go elsewhere before they disengaged from the woman they were sharing and decided to force her to join in.
But before she escaped, she needed to know… “Do any of you know Sadie?”
“Who’s fuckin’ Sadie?” demanded the biker with his jeans around his ankles and his pale ass glowing in the dark.
Sloane mentally sighed. It was time to go. “Carry on with your extracurricular activities.”
“Our what?”
Holy crap.
This time Sloane’s sigh was audible as she quickly wove through the parked vehicles in an effort to put space between her and the trio.
From behind her, she heard, “Who d’fuck’s that? She someone’s ol’ lady? You seen her ‘round before?”
“Fuck no.”
As she took long strides toward the farmhouse, she kept her eyes peeled for her sister or any immediate threats.
She carefully made her way up the porch steps that in no way were structurally sound. One wrong foot placement could cause a debilitating injury.
A quick scan of the group gathered at one end of the porch showed no women present, so she ignored their murmurs and curious eyes as she made her way through the wide-open broken door frame and into the lit interior.
Honestly, she was surprised the place had electricity. She had to assume no one actually lived on this property since the house reminded her of one abandoned out in the woods where teenagers would party. However, instead of irresponsible kids, these were adults.
Most likely no more responsible than teenagers.
She paused just inside the entrance to let her eyes adjust to the light, and as soon as they did, she noticed the horsehair-plaster walls had holes in some spots and large strips of wallpaper peeling away in others. Cobwebs clung in the corners of the just as ratty ceiling.
A couple of steps farther down the narrow hallway, she found what might have once been a parlor, or sitting room, on the right. The only furniture consisted of folding chairs and old couches, plus a three-legged table among the trash scattered on the gouged and dented wood floor. On those couches were a mix of women and bikers. None of those being Sadie.