Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I groan and spill into my hand, surrounded by Willow’s intoxicating scent. By the time her body finally gives out, leaving her slumped on the table like a wet rag, I’ve cleaned up the evidence in the towel and tucked myself away.
“I’m going to take the blindfold off. Close your eyes so you don’t get shocked by the light,” I caution.
She nods. With the tank top gone, she sits up slowly, looking fucking flushed and incredible, but more than a little dazed. “That was… amazing.”
“Worth your while?”
“Oh yeah. You can send whatever you want here. I’ll even sign for your packages.”
17
SKYHIGH
“Mr. Chafik, I appreciate the meeting. I know you’re a busy man.”
It's always fucking weird to hear Hellfire when he’s in business mode, instead of swearing like a motherfucking biker. But this partnership is still in its early stages and everyone is on their best behavior. Except for whoever’s fucking us all over, I guess.
Hamid Chafik is a criminal. No doubt about that. But at the end of the day, who in this room isn’t?
He was one of Victor Kane's contacts up until we took down Kane and his operation. Chafik swept in and mopped up all the loose parts, forming them into a new, more professional outfit. One more focused on the business and less on his own reputation. It was impressive how quickly he did it, filling the vacuum left behind to become the new top dog if you wanted fancy weaponry and equipment around here. We braced for war when he showed up, but he stretched out a hand.
“Hellfire.” Chafik nods in acknowledgment and settles his powerful body in his chair. He's got the build of someone who used to really fit, but hasn’t had to prove it in years. Soft strong, one of my old Army buddies called it. “I’ve been expecting you.”
To say we have a strong partnership is stretching it, but he’s not trying to blow up the club with a cruise missile so it beats the last guy. Baby steps.
Hellfire nods his head in my direction. “My officer Skyhigh will give you the rundown.”
As the newest appointed officer in the club, even if this isn’t directly a test, it sure as hell feels like it. I joined the Army because I grew up in construction and wanted to specialize in demolition. I thought the military would give me access to better education and opportunities, but all I walked away with was PTSD, a deep hatred of authority, and a set of skills that doesn’t translate well to the civilian world. I want to blow shit up, not do presentations, but even bikers have to do shit they don’t like sometimes.
“Right.” I throw a glance at Hellfire, who nods, and at Savage—one of our VPs—who's sitting next to him with Blackout and Dragon standing behind them as muscle.
Fuck it. I've handled fresh recruits with the survival instincts of lemmings. I can handle this.
I start with the attack we fended off at the drop, and what we learned after capturing two of the men at the follow-up attack on our handover. Chafik listens, elbows on his desk and hands folded. He doesn’t so much as twitch. It’s fucking creepy. “Long story short, we think there’s a leak, and it’s not on our end.”
That gets a reaction. Chafik leans back in his chair and scowls. “That’s a very big accusation for you to be making sitting inside the heart of my operation.” It's subtle, but I haven’t lived this long without learning to recognize the slight shift in his bodyguards’ posture that signals prep for potential action.
He’s not wrong. This place is a fucking state of the art weapons research plant dressed up like a rich playboy’s mansion. I would give my left nut to get free run of the building and see what he’s hiding in the basement. Poe, our resident tech geek, would have a fucking field day.
Everything is for show. The outside looks like your typical showy billionaire’s idea of class, but I don’t get that vibe from Chafik himself. I bet his actual living space is minimal, elegant and efficient.
I hold up my hands, palms forward. “No insult intended. I’m sure your core team is airtight, but you’re new in town. That means a lot of new hires, and that’s always going to be a potential risk. Maybe I’m wrong. If I am, I’ll own up to it, but to work together we need to say it like it fucking is. Someone is slipping information to the local vultures.”
The deep frown on Chafik's face tightens. But when one of his guys twitches, Chafik gives the slightest of headshakes and the guy's back in line in a microsecond. He's got his dogs well trained, that's for fucking sure.
“So say you’re right. What do you suppose their goal is?”