The Biker's Plaything (Straight to Hell MC Book 1) by Sam Crescent (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📕

He hadn’t been preparedto take care of these men, and yet, somehow, he’d managed. He’d been able totake the role of president, to remove all the men with King’s influence, and nowthe club was exactly how he wanted it. Ruthless men who were one hundred percentloyal to the club, whose motives he didn’t have to question. They would alwayshave his back. And he’d die for them in return.

It didn’t takelong for Reaper to catch up with him. His enforcer was one hell of a rider andthere was never going to be any way of getting shit pasthim.

Heading towardtown, he noticed many people stopped to watch them. Whenever he decided to ventureinto town with the club to take care of business, most people tried to keep awide berth from him. He didn’t mind at all.

Having people nearhim put him on edge. He was always tempted to reach for his gun, to shoot withoutgiving a fuck when someone pissed him off—that wasjust his prerogative. So, it was best to keep his distance.

The cop who daredto defy the club lived in a little farmhouse past the town, near a patch ofopen road. Pulling down the old dirt road, he arrived just in time to see theman himself scamper into his home.

Climbing off hisbike, he didn’t wait for Reaper. Instead, he barged into the house, grabbingthe cop by the back of the neck and throwing him acrossthe room. He landed against a ceramic urn that shattered.

“So, you think youcan just take my money, and then turn rat on me?”

“No, please,” thecop said.

Grabbing him bythe hair, he dragged him outside, ready to kill him.

“Wait,” Reapersaid.

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 manwithin the club who even thought of turning against the Straight to Hell MC. Thiswas a blood loyalty, live or die. There was no getting out unless you were sixfeet under.

Simple as fucking that.

“What if we got himto bring in the daughter?” Reaper asked.

“What?”

“The rat’s kid. Youwanted 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 killme. I’m sorry. It was all Richard’s idea. He said we could do it if I followedhis orders.”

Lord kicked himaway. “You think I want to hear what a weak-ass piece of shityou are? It doesn’t surprise me you’d rather save your own ass by luring a womanhere.”

He stepped back.

His need for bloodwas strong, but he couldn’t have the daughter out there running her mouth off. Hedidn’t know the full extent of Richard’s relationship with his kid. They may notbe on speaking terms, but that didn’t mean they didn’t talk on the phone, and clubbusiness was at stake. He wasn’t going to take any risks.

“You’ve got oneweek. Bring me Richard’s kid, and I’ll see how generous I am as to whether Ilet you walk away.” He wouldn’t. The only reason he was going to use this bastard was for a means to an end. This entire shitshowneeded to be cleaned up. With a cop locating the daughter, he didn’t have todeal with potential damage control when it came to bringing her here.

All this had donewas make his life easier and prolonged the cop’s until she arrived.

Then he’d get tohave his blood.

****

“Law?” Becky asked.

“Yes, law. As in becominga lawyer. You know, protecting the innocent and sending rotting assholes to jail?” Ally said.

“I know what lawand becoming a lawyer is all about, but isn’t that, like, really hard?”

Ally couldn’t helpbut laugh, putting down a shot glass before turning away to deal with another customer.She loved her job and Riches Bar, and the tips paid well. The hours were crazy,but she was able to afford rent and even consider going to law school. Of course,if she did actually decide to go through with her plan, she was going to be so fucking broke. The thought of the debt alone was enough tomake her cry.

She never did.

At nineteen yearsold, she’d been working for a long time. Ever since she was fifteen, she’d helda job. During high school, part-time at a diner. Through the summer, she workedtwo jobs, and since she turned eighteen, she’d been working at Riches Bar inthe evening and overnight, and she still worked at the diner for lunch. She lovedto work. It meant earning legal money, being able to pay her bills, and nothaving to depend on her father.

Not that she evercould.

Her father was abad seed and got mixed into way too much sketchy business. Getting away fromhim was the best thing she’d ever done. He sent her birthday and Christmascards on occasion, and he tried to talk to her during New Year’s, but she wasn’tinterested in building up a relationship with him at this point. All themotions were only skin deep—he didn’t really care about her.

No, the time he’d consideredselling her to pay for a debt, that had been the final straw. He’d neveractually done it, but it had gotten so close that she’d feared for her life.Unlike Becky, she didn’t come from a great family or have a wonderful childhood.

When her mother lefther trapped in a closet, it had taken her father three days to come home. She’dbeen eight, screaming to be let out.

She pushed thosememories aside, and instead, turned back to her friend.

“You don’t think I’vegot it in me?” Ally asked, looking at her friend.

“I believe you haveit in you. I’ve never met anyone as smart or as determined as you, but when it comesto the law, who exactly would you be protecting?”

“The innocent.”

“Honey, don’t takethis the wrong way, but you’re not the best judge of character.”

“Says who?”

“Me. For one thing,you’ve got the whole issue with your dad. Do you really think you can make unbiasedopinions?”

“It was an idea.”

“Last week you wantedto be a surgeon. Do you remember?” Becky asked.

“Why are we havingthis discussion?”

“You were the onewho came to me. Let’s see, in the last three months,