Wanted by the Bikers – Screaming Eagles MC Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
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Wraith and Nitro fall in on either side of us, racing off into the darkness. By the time reinforcements have any chance of showing up, we’ll be long gone. But I can’t help thinking about Tank saying we’ll need to have words.

Was I just rescued? Or kidnapped?

11

KAYLEE

Tank’s big body is behind me, holding me close, but the chilly winter air still cuts right through my sweats, and there’s nothing but thin cotton socks protecting my feet. We race through the city like the Devil himself is on our heels, and the sound of sirens fades away. Wherever we’re going, we’re in a big hurry, and as far as I’m concerned, the farther away from that hellhole we can get, the better.

I shiver, and his arm tightens, pulling me even closer, so I burrow into his jacket and enjoy the feel of being held and safe. A few tears of relief slip out, quickly dried by the wind.

Are the three of them dangerous criminals? Maybe. Do they have their own reasons for breaking me out? They must, but whatever it is, I can’t imagine it being worse than what Harris and the other cops did. I’m nothing special, so I really doubt they all just fell instantly in love with some random girl who showed up at the tattoo parlor one day.

Unless…

God. I bet they think I already sold them out. They told me not to say anything, and then they must have heard I was working with the cops. I’d be an idiot to believe that they would choose me over the club and their friends.

As soon as we cross into South Side, I know exactly where we’re heading. It’s not really a surprise. Where else would we go? Were they going to take me home and tuck me into bed? Seeing the giant walled-in complex of the Screaming Eagles compound gives me an odd feeling of both safety and fear. If there’s anywhere in the city that Harris can’t reach, it’s here, but also, once I’m inside, I’m completely at their mercy.

It’s the middle of the night, but flood lights illuminate the walls and keep the club logo visible, along with a massive metal gate that rolls back slowly to let us in, then shutting firmly behind with a loud clank as it locks in place.

Growing up in the city, I heard rumors about girls going to parties here, but my friends and I were never brave enough. I’ve never seen the inside, I doubt most people have. The most I’ve seen is the wall that goes around the whole block, protecting them from the city. Or maybe the city from them? I’ve seen maps on my GPS and I know they own the whole block, but it’s not until I’m inside that it’s really obvious how huge the place really is.

Right inside the gate is a central courtyard. A multiple story warehouse takes up most of the space behind it, and it’s on that wall the lit up logo is. A huge garage is off to the side, open and lit up with burly guys working on their motorcycles. Down the other way are small but perfectly normal houses, complete with little lawns and even some playground equipment. It looks cozier than I expected. Not a word I ever expected to associate with the Screaming Eagles.

They stop their bikes right at the bottom of the wide stairs leading to the front doors of the warehouse. This time it’s Wraith who comes over to help me off Tank’s bike instead of the other way around. When he takes hold of my arm, it hits a bruise and I shrink back.

His eyes narrow and his mouth flattens into a grim line. He shifts his grip, putting his hands under my arms and quickly lifting me off and to the ground. “I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“Come on, cookie. Let’s get you inside,” Tank says, swatting my butt to get me moving.

I flinch again, and red hot fury spikes through me at the thought that just a few days with Harris and the others has turned me into someone I don’t even recognize. Not just because I feel crusty and disgusting from not having showered or changed, but because it broke some subconscious level of trust in other human beings that I didn’t even know I had.

Nitro is the one who seems to understand immediately. “Give her a little space.”

One tired step after the other, I walk between them up to the warehouse. The ground is freezing and a little damp beneath my feet. I welcome the discomfort because it means I’m not in that apartment anymore, but getting inside sounds good too.

At the top, Wraith holds the door open. “Welcome to the clubhouse, sweetheart.”

They lead me into a big common room with ceilings so high they go up into the second floor. It looks a little like how I’d imagine a frat house would be, with pool tables, a long bar and in the back, beat up couches surrounding a flat screen TV that’s playing a football game on mute. On the far wall, there’s a large golden Screaming Eagles logo flanked by a pair of American Flags. A fair number of members are sitting around, and the mood is subdued, but attention locks on us as soon as we walk in, and they do not look happy.


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