UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) by Hayley Faiman (e book reader pc txt) 📕

on a daily basis. But what I didn’t anticipate was that I’d have to worry about my son fucking my president’s daughter in the too near fucking future.”

“Ain’t thirteen and eleven a little young?” I ask.

Silver snorts. “Think about yourself at thirteen,” he grumbles.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

He snorts. “No shit, so Presley’s goal is to keep him as busy as fucking possible and avoidance. My goal is to keep him as far away from the clubhouse as possible, in a few years it won’t matter because they’ll be in school together again.”

“You got shit to go through with that, I do not envy you, brother.”

Silver shakes his head a couple of times. “Wouldn’t trade it for the world, but that boy will make me a grandfather before I’m ready. Already lookin’ at tits and ass like he can’t wait to unwrap every woman that fucking walks by him. He’s trouble, worse than I ever was.”

“Doubt that,” I say.

His lips curve up into a grin. “Yeah, with Presley on his ass constantly, he’ll never be as bad as I was.”

“Plus, you know what you’re doin’ with him, no way is he going to get away with half the shit you did.”

“Probably not.” He laughs. “Thanks,” he offers.

“For?”

“Bein’ my brother on this trip. Showing me that you’re the same Jag you always were. You changed, brother. It was slow, but it was there and I think you’re back to you.”

I hate to admit that he’s right. Nobody wants to hear that they changed and I know that when any one of my brothers makes the announcement that I changed, it wasn’t because they think it was for the better.

“I was lost for a long time,” I admit. “And angry.”

“Yeah, easy to be in our world, in any world really.”

Before I can reply, the door behind me opens and we turn to see Mamba standing there, naked as the fucking day that he was born, scratching his stomach.

“Wanna put your dick away before you traumatize anyone?” Silver asks.

Mamba’s lips turn up into a lazy smile. “You mean before women flock and beg to take a ride?”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing except laughter escapes. Silver joins and so does Mamba. A few moments later, the men start filing out of their rooms. It’s time to get ready. It’s a few hours before sunlight, but we need to load up and set up before we strike.

“What’re you gonna do with the girl?” Dragon asks, jerking his chin toward the bedroom where Gator and the waitress are still inside.

Mamba grins. “We’re thinking of keeping her,” he announces. “At least for some fun every now and again.”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head, looking down at my feet. Those two need to stick with each other. I know it, as does everyone else around here, but as many times as we’ve tried to tell them, they won’t just accept it.

I don’t know if it’s Gator or Mamba. Maybe it’s the both of them that aren’t ready to admit the fact that they just love one another. They don’t need a third person. They have one another and not a single one of us would give a fuck if they kept it that way.

“Mamba,” Dragon warns.

He grins, shrugging a shoulder. “She wants out of this small town. Told her she could hang with us as long as she wanted to. She’s ready to fly, brother, and you know me. I never keep a woman grounded if she doesn’t want to be.”

Nobody responds. There’s nothing to respond to. Instead, I clear my throat and turn to Dragon. He’s watching Mamba and I can tell he has something on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say, probably something close to what I was thinking, but he doesn’t say it.

“We ready to ride?” Silver asks. Then he turns to Mamba and jerks his chin. “The girl stays here.”

“No shit,” Mamba grunts.

Twenty minutes later, we’re loaded into the truck, onto bikes, and headed to the Donkey Punchers. We only know what Google Earth has shown us, if anything has changed, we won’t see any of that until we arrive.

Hopefully it’s all stayed the same and hopefully they’re there because I am ready to end this and Riot all at the same time. Today.

PAMELA

Maci watches from the chair across from me. She tilts her head to the side as she takes me in. What she doesn’t do is speak to me. I brought her a bottled water and grabbed some crackers and cheese from the kitchen. She ate, but wordlessly.

I chew on my bottom lip, unsure of what to say to her. I’m not like the other Old Ladies. I have no idea how to start conversations or really even to engage in them. I only know how to answer questions when I’m asked myself.

“Do you need something?” I finally ask.

She jerks her torso slightly and shakes her head once. “No,” she breathes.

She tilts her head to the side again and I have a feeling she’s either trying to read me or has a question for me that she’s not sure she should ask. I watch her too, wondering what they did to her at the other club, then I grimace at the thought of what my father and his men did to her.

“You can ask me anything,” I say.

She licks her lips, then flicks her gaze to the table before she slowly lifts her eyes to meet my own. I watch as she lifts her chin slightly, then she clears her throat.

“What are they going to do to me here?” she asks, her voice wavering and shaky.

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I sit forward slightly. “I don’t know, but I do know what they won’t do,” I offer.

She follows my direction and leans forward, her eyes wide and bright. “What?” she breathes.

“They won’t hurt you. They won’t rape you. They won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“They demanded me, took