Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Sounds like someone did us all a favor,” I say as Lars joins us.
Sheriff Coulter nods. “I’d like to thank him, whoever he is. One less asshole in the world.” He puts on his hat. “I’ll keep you boys posted.”
He walks away, and I turn to Lars and point to CCTV cameras across the road from the alleyway. “I want the footage from those cameras. I want to see when the girl came in here and if she was with anyone.”
“I’ll get Bram onto it when we get back to the clubhouse.”
Leaving the scene behind us, we walk toward our bikes.
“Wanna tell me about the other girl?” Lars says.
“What other girl?”
“The one screaming bloody murder at you in the clubhouse last night.”
“You heard that?”
“Yes, because I have ears.” He gives me a sideways glance. “She was pissed at you. Is she the reason you’ve been disappearing lately?”
“Something like that.”
“You found yourself a woman? Why is this the first I’ve heard about it?”
“There was nothing to tell,” I say, removing my keys from the breast pocket of my cut.
“Last night sounded like there was plenty to tell. Who is she?” His eyes gleam with mischief and the filthy smile he gets when he sees something he likes slides across his face. “She sounds like a screamer.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That’s my fiancée you’re talking about.”
He stops walking. “Fiancée? What the fuck? You telling me you’re—”
“Yes, I’m getting married.”
“Since the fuck when?”
“Since she and I discussed it last night.” I swing my leg over my bike.
“You haven’t so much glanced at a woman since Jennifer. What’s special about this woman that I’ve never met? She got a magic pussy or something?”
I narrow my eyes at him. It’s a warning to back off. He shakes his head and climbs on his bike.
“Her uncle owes a debt to the club and has no way of paying it off. I need a wife. She’s single. See where I’m going with this?”
The comprehension registers on his face. “This is the girl Gaston attacked. So not a love match then.”
I slide on my sunglasses. “Far from it.”
He actually looks disappointed.
“Do you think this getting married is a good idea, right now?”
“It’s now or fucking never.” I don’t tell him I’d prefer fucking never.
“Then can I suggest you do it immediately.” He glances over his shoulder to where the girl sits lifelessly on the cobblestones. “You and I know shit is about to hit the fan. The club needs you focused. Marry the girl now, before the bloodshed begins.”
He's right. I need to deal with the Belle situation swiftly so I can focus on dealing with the Unhinged Psychos. Because right now Belle is a distraction, and I can’t afford to be distracted.
Hitting the ignition, my Harley rumbles to life. Lars does the same, and we both ride off into the afternoon sun.
When we arrive back at the clubhouse, Gambit is waiting in the underground garage for us.
“Beast, you’re needed in the security room, there’s something you need to see.”
He must’ve seen us approach on the security cameras.
“It will have to wait.”
I want to get the sample to Opie so he can take a look at it immediately. In charge of overseeing the phantasia operation, he’s an experienced chemist and will be able to pull this fake shit apart so we have a better understanding of what we are dealing with.
Gambit looks uneasy. “Yeah, this particular situation can’t wait. It’s about your guest…”
Of course it is. Five minutes in the clubhouse and she’s already a thorn in my side. Even last night when she backed down, I knew the fight hadn’t left her.
“What has she done now?”
“It’s not what she’s done but what’s she’s doing,” Gambit replies.
“Fine. Show me.”
Lars and I follow Gambit out of the garage and through the clubhouse and into the security room.
Because of who we are and what we do—not to mention the people we piss off—our security is state of the art. Everything is monitored in the security room near the front of the castle.
It’s where I find Bram sitting in front of a bank of surveillance monitors, each one of them live streaming from the many cameras installed around the property. He’s focused on one in particular where Belle is attempting to climb out the second-story window of her bedroom. There is no balcony. No conveniently placed lattice. No pergola roof to jump onto. Just a frail drainpipe that should have been replaced decades ago.
Christ, is she really going to shimmy down the drainpipe?
“She’s been sitting on the edge for the past ten or fifteen minutes,” Gambit explains. “I didn’t think she would attempt the climb, but clearly I underestimated her.”
Lars sits down in a chair and puts his boots on the table. “So this is the screamer,” he says and I throw him a warning look which he ignores. “I like her, she has spunk. Not to mention balls, how high is that window?”