The Biker's Plaything (Straight to Hell MC #1) - Sam Crescent Page 0,1
he got that, but didn’t they all? As far as he was concerned, his only regret was not killing the daughter first, so the rat could have watched her die.
Every one of the men at the club had issues, but he didn’t hold their hands or ask them about their problems. Instead, he liked to stick to the good, old, reliable method of not giving a shit.
“Just do it. You know how this works.”
“Fine. We’ll bring her in.”
Climbing on his bike, he allowed the purr to sink into his senses. The scent of oil, the leather, the roar, it was all sweet magic, but it still didn’t do enough to stem his need for blood. Gripping the handlebars, he revved the engine, not waiting for his enforcer to get ready. He was out of there. He didn’t need a sitter.
Taking the open road, he knew this was where he belonged. For many years, he’d been wandering through life, fighting, hunting, and trying to find himself, when he discovered his place right here in this very club, Straight to Hell MC. It had once been owned by a man who went by King. He’d been the one to rule this place, to have his men bow down at his feet, but greed had set him on a path of destruction. If it hadn’t been for Lord, they’d all be dead, rotting in their graves. Life had certainly taken a dramatic turn.
He hadn’t been prepared to take care of these men, and yet, somehow, he’d managed. He’d been able to take the role of president, to remove all the men with King’s influence, and now the club was exactly how he wanted it. Ruthless men who were one hundred percent loyal to the club, whose motives he didn’t have to question. They would always have his back. And he’d die for them in return.
It didn’t take long for Reaper to catch up with him. His enforcer was one hell of a rider and there was never going to be any way of getting shit past him.
Heading toward town, he noticed many people stopped to watch them. Whenever he decided to venture into town with the club to take care of business, most people tried to keep a wide berth from him. He didn’t mind at all.
Having people near him put him on edge. He was always tempted to reach for his gun, to shoot without giving a fuck when someone pissed him off—that was just his prerogative. So, it was best to keep his distance.
The cop who dared to defy the club lived in a little farmhouse past the town, near a patch of open road. Pulling down the old dirt road, he arrived just in time to see the man himself scamper into his home.
Climbing off his bike, he didn’t wait for Reaper. Instead, he barged into the house, grabbing the cop by the back of the neck and throwing him across the room. He landed against a ceramic urn that shattered.
“So, you think you can just take my money, and then turn rat on me?”
“No, please,” the cop said.
Grabbing him by the hair, he dragged him outside, ready to kill him.
“Wait,” Reaper said.
Lord held the gun up, ready to train it on Reaper. “You’re sticking up for this piece of shit? Did you turn rat on me as well?” He’d kill any man within the club who even thought of turning against the Straight to Hell MC. This was a blood loyalty, live or die. There was no getting out unless you were six feet under.
Simple as fucking that.
“What if we got him to bring in the daughter?” Reaper asked.
“What?”
“The rat’s kid. You wanted her. I could call Brick off, and this guy could bring her straight to us. We take care of both problems then.”
“Yes, don’t kill me. I’m sorry. It was all Richard’s idea. He said we could do it if I followed his orders.”
Lord kicked him away. “You think I want to hear what a weak-ass piece of shit you are? It doesn’t surprise me you’d rather save your own ass by luring a woman here.”
He stepped back.
His need for blood was strong, but he couldn’t have the daughter out there running her mouth off. He didn’t know the full extent of Richard’s relationship with his kid. They may not be on speaking terms, but that didn’t mean they didn’t talk on the phone, and club business was at stake. He wasn’t going to take any risks.
“You’ve