Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
There's nothing shy or meek about the glare she meets me with. "She's my little sister. Do you seriously think I’ll just stay behind and wait?"
"It's going to be a fucking warzone." I gesture at the guys around me. Just about the whole club is out with us in the courtyard, getting their bikes ready, or already waiting and revving their engines. Eagle-eye's overlooking the whole thing like a fucking general, next to his own bike. He's the Prez, and he's going to be leading the charge.
Natalie keeps going, like I’m going to fucking agree. "And Sandra's going to be right in the middle of it. And if she's there voluntarily, someone needs to try to talk her down from it. I need to know what's going on. If you guys don't take me, I'll take a freaking taxi or something. I'm going." She puts her fists on her hips.
"I could set someone to watch you. Or fucking handcuff you to my bed."
"You wouldn't dare. I'm coming, and that's final."
I don't have fucking time for this. And I definitely don't have the fucking time to make sure she's unable to get outta here while we're gone, because I know she's going to find a fucking way to do it.
Animal and Quickshot look between us, already mounted on their bikes and ready to roll out. They're thinking the same as me, I'm sure. Fuck. I throw my leg over my bike. "Fine. Get the fuck on, but you do exactly what we fucking say. I say jump, you don't even fucking ask how high. You just fucking do it. Clear?"
"Crystal," she says and jumps onto my bike, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, at least as far as she can reach. If this was going to be some sort of pleasure ride, I'd fucking love this, but right now? Right now I have to worry about her safety, and it's a complication I'd rather not have. But better that than have her running around on her own and causing trouble.
I fire up my bike, and a few moments later, the Screaming Eagles are on the ride. We flow out the main gate like a river, flooding the streets with rubber and steel.
I love these moments—the wind in my hair and my brothers around me, unified in a common cause. American flags waving from the back of some of the bikes for effect. We're a fucking army.
As we cruise through the avenues of South Side, people stop what they're doing to watch us ride through. News must spread, because by the time we're closing in on the Unwanted, spectators are already waiting for us, out on their porches and doorsteps, or hanging out their windows to see us go by. Kids wave, quickly pulled inside by their parents, who know if we’re out in these numbers, it’s not for fun.
At the Unwanted clubhouse, the whole club seems to be waiting for us, with Cain in the middle of it all and Crusher at his side. And just behind him, it’s that Mafia fucker, Giancarlo Fabbri. Looks like our timing's fucking perfect.
Screaming Eagles line the street and pack the dirt patch outside the run down house they’re holed up in like rats. We outnumber them, we're better organized, and even if we didn't and weren't, we're talking fucking quality over quantity here. Just one Screaming Eagle is good for at least five of these fuckers.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" yells Cain. His gun's in plain view, and he looks ready to draw. Same with his guys. An invasion like this rarely ends up pretty.
Eagle-eye cuts his engine and gets off his bike, standing with his hands on his belt and his feet well apart as he looks up at Cain. "We’ve got shit to discuss, you and me."
"You could’a just fucking called. Jesus, no need for this kind of circus."
Natalie gets off behind me, and then I do. Badass and Quickshot are already at our sides, and we form a triangle around her. If this shit goes off the rails, then anyone who wants to hurt her has to go through us. We move up towards the front.
"You know," says Eagle-eye, "I was wondering where the fuck you were getting all your shit from. A little piece of crap club like yours, suddenly overflowing with drugs, guns… fucking women. And I thought, hey, maybe you had a shift in leadership, ‘cause let’s face it, you’ve never been smart enough to pull this off.”
Cain's expression goes from stony to furious, and laser focused on Eagle-eye, but Crusher looks our way. His eyes narrow when he sees Natalie, then he grins, exposing a missing tooth. It’s that grin that worries me. Like he knows something we don’t.
"Is there a point to this story, or did you just come to ask me to dinner," yells Cain.