Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
He took the gun from her and wrapped her in his arms. “You did good, Wildfire. You did what I asked you to do.”
“But I killed him. What if he has a family? He could have a wife and children. I just killed him. I couldn’t stop pulling the trigger.”
“You did what I asked you to do. You made me a promise, and you kept it.”
“But I don’t have a family, Keys. Look what I did. I’ll have to try to find out…”
He hugged her tight, pressing her body into his. “I’m your family. You’re mine. I would have been left alone. I asked you to do this for me, even though I knew it would take a toll on you. Killing is hard to live with. But if you hadn’t, he would have killed you and I would be alone again.” He reached down to get an arm under her knees. “Let’s get you inside. There’s still another hanging from one of our traps. I’d like to keep him alive so my brothers and I can ask him a few questions.”
He carried her back inside and immediately noticed the bullets stuck in the thick dirt wall. She would have been killed had she not defended herself. He didn’t want to think too closely about that, not when one was still alive.
Seven
The roar of pipes was loud and growing louder with each passing minute. The townspeople were used to the Headed for Hell club members riding their motorcycles through town, but it was rarely more than six or seven of them traveling together to the clubhouse located outside of town at the bottom of the mountain. It was a sprawling compound housing the clubhouse itself and several outbuildings. Only club members were allowed on the property, or if they held one of their wild parties, certain women were welcome.
The noise of the bikes sounded like thunder. Two men, Jude Harrison and Knox Bigolow, wearing Headed for Hell colors, rushed out of the hardware store as the motorcycles entered the main street. The bikers were riding two abreast and they meant business. Not one wore a Headed for Hell cut. Motorcycle after motorcycle moved through town, ignoring the stop signs. The numbers kept coming. Each of the riders wore a jacket declaring they were members of Torpedo Ink. They looked to be at least forty strong.
The two members of the Headed for Hell club ducked out the back of the store, confiscated a truck, and tore down a back road toward their compound. It looked as if they were going to war. That show of force from the Torpedo Ink club, wearing their colors and invading Headed for Hell territory, meant they’d come looking for trouble. Torpedo Ink was a support club of the Diamondbacks. No one fucked with the Diamondbacks and lived to tell about it.
There were rumors about Torpedo Ink. No one ever wanted those men to get them in their sights. Some said they did all the wet work for the Diamondbacks. Whatever the reason they were there, the Headed for Hell club president, Sid Baily, had to know immediately.
Jude leapt from the truck and raced to the clubhouse, ignoring several of his brothers, nearly shoving them out of the way, all the while yelling for Sid.
The president of his club came out of one of the back rooms looking smug, which meant he just got laid.
“What the hell, Jude?”
“We’ve got trouble. It will be here in about five minutes. Torpedo Ink just rode in, all wearing colors. Forty strong. Could be more. I could see Caspar / Sea Haven on some of the cuts and Trinity on the others. Two full chapters. They’re loaded for bear.”
Sid was already putting out the call to the members to get back to the clubhouse. He had a bad feeling his club was in trouble. He had only minutes to figure out a way to play this. If he tried being a hard-ass, demanding Torpedo Ink remove their cuts, he had the feeling they would all die. He hadn’t just heard rumors about Torpedo Ink, he’d made it his business to find out if it was true that they were possibly more lethal than the Diamondbacks. And forty strong? That sounded like Torpedo Ink had grown overnight.
Was this a takeover? Sid had been careful to stay out of trouble with the other clubs. He’d reined his men in when they left their territory. He had them play by the rules. They’d had a sweet deal going, making good money. They’d had good connections. They hadn’t wanted another larger club realizing they were in a superior position to run certain product. Things hadn’t worked out the way they were supposed to, and now their club was in even more trouble.
“Clear the women out of here,” he snapped to his vice president, Cohen Marks. “We’ll take a meet with them. Get some of our men up into the rafters to back us up. We’ll have to move fast if we’re going to catch them with their pants down.” He turned to glare at his sergeant at arms. “Warren, you stick close to me.”