Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
The warehouse stretched around me, vast and decaying. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, a steady plink-plink that marked time in this nightmare. The air hung heavy with the stench of mildew and rust, with undertones of something chemical. Shafts of light speared through holes in the roof, illuminating dust motes swirling in the stagnant air. I could make out the shapes of old machinery, hulking metal carcasses pushed against the walls. Piles of debris, broken wooden pallets, and scattered tools created a maze around the central area where Rat Man had set up his little command center. A folding table with maps spread across it, a couple of camping lanterns, and what looked like an ancient coffee maker plugged into a portable generator. Because, why not?
Two men lurked in the shadows near the large sliding doors. One, tall and rail-thin, a shotgun cradled in his arms. The other was squatter, muscular, constantly checking his phone with twitchy movements. They took turns peering through cracks in the boarded windows, muttering to each other in voices too low for me to hear.
“Nice place, right?” Rat Man’s voice came from behind me, making me flinch despite my best efforts. He circled around into my field of vision, his boots scuffing on the concrete floor. “Not exactly five-star accommodations, but it’ll do for what we need.”
He stopped in front of me, leaning down until his face was level with mine. His breath washed over me, a nauseating mix of cigarettes and stale coffee. His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils pinpricks even in the dim light.
“You’re pretty,” he said, reaching out to touch my face. I jerked my head away, and he laughed, a raspy sound like sandpaper on metal. “Spirited too. I see why Jag likes you.”
When I didn’t answer, Rat Man’s smile widened, showing yellow teeth. “I thought we should talk about him. After all, he’s the reason you’re here.” He straightened up, beginning to circle my chair like a shark. “Did he ever tell you about our history together?”
I kept my mouth shut, eyes forward. Every instinct screamed at me not to engage, not to give him anything.
“No?” He snorted. “Probably don’t like bein’ reminded of how fuckin’ stupid he is.” Rat Man stopped behind me, his hands landing heavy on my shoulders. I fought the urge to squirm away from his touch. “Your boyfriend’s a real hero, sweetheart. Spent his whole fuckin’ adult life in prison for something I did.”
Despite myself, I tensed. Jag had mentioned taking the fall for someone, but he’d never gone into detail.
“Oh, that got your attention.” Rat Man came around front again, dragging another chair over to sit directly across from me. “See, back in the day, Kiss of Death was a different club. More my style.” He gave me an evil grin. “And Jag, well, he was just a kid looking for a family.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, getting in my space. “Me and him, we had a job. Chump stuff. Intimidation, maybe roughing someone up a little. But things got out of hand.” He smiled as he shrugged, like he was discussing the weather. “Few guys ended up dead. Not the plan, but shit happens, right?”
My stomach churned, but I clamped my mouth shut. I really hoped if I puked it was explosive. And all over the psychopath sitting in front of me.
“Your boyfriend there, he wanted to be part of us. Or thought he did.” Rat Man’s voice took on a mocking tone. “All because he wanted to fit in somewhere.” He snorted. “So when the cops started sniffing around, I made him believe takin’ the fall was his way in. He’d have the club’s protection on the inside and come back a full-fledged member of Kiss of Death.” He laughed again, that horrible rasping sound. “Kid did way the fuck more time than I would have.” He chuckled. “I’ll give the kid credit for one thing, though. The reason he got such a long sentence was because the DA wanted me or Slash. Probably me, but Slash was the prez. Slash was a close second, I think.” Yeah. This guy wasn’t rational. Or even all there. “Young kid like him. DA thought they’d force him into turnin’ on us if he looked at spendin’ the rest of his life behind bars. He never said a fuckin’ word.” He sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “And you know what the funny part is? That motherfucker, Cain, killed Slash not six months later. Jag thought he was doin’ what Slash wanted, probably tryin’ to suck up to Slash. He sacrificed everything for nothing.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, refusing to react. Jag had lost most of his adult life because of this man’s cowardice, and now he was sitting here bragging about it.