Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
“Took a knock to the head, huh?” Rock’s low grumble makes it clear what he thinks of Carter’s surprise. “Whole club’s worried about you. Half of ’em are outside.” He reaches for Carter’s arm to steady him. “Teller’s not kidding, we gotta go. Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” Carter lifts his left leg. “Bleeding stopped a while ago. Still stings and throbs like a bitch, though.”
He limps and hops next to me but doesn’t complain as we navigate through the messy trailer. Cool air beckons from the wide-open front door. Carter hops faster toward freedom.
“Get me the fuck outta here,” he mumbles, scrambling ahead of me.
The dead body sprawled in front of the door stops us. I hadn’t bothered to look at him when we came inside. Now, I stop and study the owner of the shotgun. Black hole in his forehead says he’s beyond CPR. His vacant eyes stare at the ceiling and whatever’s beyond.
“Don’t think you’re headed in that direction,” Carter spits out.
“He the one who cut off your toe?” Rock asks.
“No, but he was a real asshole.” Carter taps his cheek where a red spot darkens his skin. “Thumbs. That’s the guy who cut my toe off. They called him Thumbs. I was scared shitless he was going to take my thumbs as a fucking trophy.” He croaks out the last few words.
Rock pats his back.
“June!” Carter’s eyes widen and he whips his head around, eyes wildly searching the trailer. “We have to find her.”
“Shit,” Rock mutters.
“No, she tried to take care of me,” Carter insists. “We can’t leave her here.”
“She’s the reason they took you,” Murphy says.
Carter’s voice drops. “They’re not nice to her, either.”
“Let’s get you out of here, first.” I slap Murphy’s shoulder. “Help me.”
With our assistance, Carter hops and limps down the steps.
Outside, he stops and faces me, grabbing onto my vest to keep himself upright. “You’re not making me ride on the back of your bike, are you?”
I lift an eyebrow. Glad to see they didn’t beat his twisted sense of inappropriately timed humor out of him. “If I say yes, are you planning to stay?”
He glances at the trailer. “Hell no.”
Wrath jogs up to us, still carrying his rifle.
“You all in one piece, Scribbles?” Wrath’s quick gaze slides over Carter.
I lift my chin. “Nice shot.”
“Thank Grinder for drawing him into the open doorway,” he says.
“Wait, I get a road name, now?” Carter asks.
“Wrath’s gotta name everyone,” Murphy mutters.
Wrath’s mouth slides into a half-smirk. “I name you, it means I most likely won’t kill you.” He hooks an arm around Murphy’s neck and drags him into a choke hold. “Even if you piss me off.”
“Peachy.” Carter grins. “I can live with Scribbles.”
“It covers all the bases of your talents.” Wrath releases Murphy and slaps Carter’s shoulder. He frowns when Carter wobbles to the side. “You all right?”
Carter holds his foot out. “I’m missing my toe.”
Wrath meets my eyes. Scary fuck or not, Wrath’s code is the same as mine—club business doesn’t involve cutting body parts off of guys like Carter.
“It’s okay.” Nerves push Carter’s voice higher. “I don’t need it. I’d rather get the fuck out of here.”
“We’re going,” I assure him.
“Rock!” Grinder shouts from deeper inside the trailer.
“Stay here,” I warn Carter.
Z, Rock, and I follow Grinder’s voice to a bedroom at the back of the trailer. A small, dark-haired woman dressed in black pants and a black T-shirt is tied spread-eagle to the bed, tears leaking from her frightened eyes.
Grinder kneels at the foot of the bed, slicing through one of the ropes. “Help me,” he growls.
As Rock, Z, and I crowd into the room, her eyes widen and she screams into the cloth stuffed in her mouth. She coughs and chokes, frantically thrashing her head from side to side.
“It’s okay, June!” Carter yells from outside. “They won’t hurt you.”
“If we wanted to hurt ya, we’d leave ya tied up,” Z says in a bored tone, neatly slicing through one of the ropes binding the girl’s wrists.
“Stop moving,” I snap, tugging on the bandanna tied around her face. “I don’t want to accidentally slice your cheek.”
She goes stone still.
I carefully cut the material away from her face. She spits out the gag, wiggles her jaw, and sobs.
Once her limbs are free, the girl backs up to the wall and wraps her arms around her knees. She doesn’t say a word, but eyes us warily.
“Yeah, I don’t trust you either, sweetheart,” I sneer, quickly scanning the room for signs of any other weapons. A peek inside the nightstand yields a pistol, bottles of lube, and other stuff I don’t want to think about. I tuck the gun in a side pocket of my pants. Need to toss it later—fuck knows how many bodies can be traced to it—but for now, I want it out of June’s reach.