The Biker's Plaything (Straight to Hell MC Book 1), Sam Crescent [story reading .txt] 📗

to fall backasleep now. His mind was a blur of Richard’s betrayal, the lies, the deception.He’d trusted the bastard, given him a job, and he gotnothing in return but grief. Lord valued loyalty above all else. He’d give hislife for any man in his club. Knowing Richard was trying to sell off his secrets,even using one of the cops on his payroll to make it happen, was like a knife tothe back.

Now he had the man’sdaughter.

Using family membersagainst his enemies had always been the best revenge. It was better when theywatched, so they could feel the same pain they caused for the club. WithRichard six feet under, Lord would still get satisfaction knowing the rat’s onlyheir would join him, ridding the world of his bloodline. He’d toy with her abit, make her suffer, remind her what a bastard herfather was when he’d been breathing. Then he’d put a bullet in her head.

He could alreadyfeel the sense of closure. The unique satisfaction that came with revenge.

It was time tomove on from this betrayal and work on strengthening and expanding the Straightto Hell MC.

When he woke upnext, the early morning sun shone right in his face. He rolled to the side to checkthe time, immediately remembering the call from last night. It was time toclean this shit up.

He opened hisbedroom door and whistled. One of the club whores ranup the hall toward him within seconds. Lord grabbed her by the back of the neckand she froze. “Tell Brick, Reaper, and Stump to gear up. We’re heading out assoon as I take a shower.”

“Want me to joinyou?”

He looked down atthe half naked woman. She wasn’t unattractive. He was well aware that getting intohis bed was an honor for the club whores, but he hadno interest lately. Lord would say he’d lost his fucking libido,but he had no trouble getting his dick hard. It was the dirty pussy he tiredof. At forty years old, he wasn’t the same man he was in his youth. He wasn’tlooking for a connection, and only when he was extremely pent-up did he everallow the whores near his cock. It seemed every yearhe grew darker, withdrew more, and lost bits of his humanity along the way. Somesaid he was heartless, others said he lacked a conscience. All the rumors weretrue.

Lord washed up inthe shower, running both hands through his hair and allowing the water to flowdown over his muscles. He was sore, but it made him feel alive. After he dealt withthe cop and the girl, he’d push himself in the gym again. It was his outlet, gavehim focus, and reminded him to keep disciplined in every aspect of his life.His body and his rank were testament to his dedication.

By the time hemade his way to the yard, his men were ready to go, geared up, and packing heat.He nodded his approval as he approached his bike. The chrome glistened in themorning light.

“Where we heading, boss?” asked Reaper.

“You wanted thecop to get the girl for us. He got the girl.”

Lord lifted his legand straddled his bike.

He could hear theunspoken words from his enforcer, but the bastard knewbetter than to open his mouth. Reaper had a soft spot for women. There was noroom for weakness in their world. The girl was going to die, regardless of Reaper’sopinion. There was no balancing right and wrong, only their unique form of justice.The Straight to Hell MC had a reputation for a reason. It was Lord’s job to ensurethey weren’t seen as weak or ripe for extortion. If his men were more like him,lacking complete empathy for their enemies, they’d be stronger. Their human naturekept bringing down the club.

He revved hisengine, glared at his enforcer, then led the way out of the club.

The drive out to thecop’s country home was quiet this early. They drove past countless acres offarmland, dotted with the occasional homestead or herd of cattle. He rememberedbits and pieces of a broken childhood. The shed out back, the beatings, the bloodiedrope. Being reminded he’d never amount to anything.

Lord had spent mostof his forty years trying to forget the past.

When he was aroundtwelve, he lost sight in his right eye. His stepfather was to blame. The motherfucker would hurt his mother while he watched, and theday he tried to intervene, he was left scarred and blinded in one eye. His stepfathersaid not to watch if he didn’t like what he saw. The bastardused a metal rake from the barn, pinned him in the corner where they stored thehay, and thrashed him over and over until he lost consciousness.

He’d been skinnyand helpless way back then.

Things weredifferent now.

Lord had learnedto turn off his emotions. Permanently. It was better that way. He’d becomestronger mentally and physically and would die before he became the victim toany man again.

He snapped back tothe present when he nearly lost control on the dirt shoulder of the road. Lordrefocused and picked up the pace, only a few more miles until his destination.He couldn’t let old memories toy with his head. It was easy to slip into oblivion—heknew that all too well. He had to black it out, push the pain, guilt, and shameso far fucking down into the abyss that they couldn’tmess with his head.

Bobby’s old farmappeared ahead, and Lord slowed down his bike before turning onto the unpaveddrive. The other bikes settled around him, cutting their engines on cue.

“She alive?” askedReaper.

“Don’t worry aboutit. She won’t be for long.” Lord headed toward the house, but Bobby Joe Rangercame stumbling off the porch, pulling on a plaid shirt as he neared.

“Good morning,” saidBobby.

Lord nodded towardthe cruiser.

“Oh. Yeah, she’s justwhere you told me to leave her.”

It had been afrigid night. Maybe the girl was already dead.

The cop walkedalong a beaten path, his keys jangling in one hand. He unlocked the trunk and flungit up, a huge smile on his face. “It was so damn easy.I picked her up as soon as she left work last night.”

His VP steppedforward first, glancing into the open trunk. There was no sound, no movement.

“Boss, how