The Biker's Plaything (Straight to Hell MC #1) - Sam Crescent Page 0,6
head to the side. “Did I fucking ask you a question? Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”
He returned his attention to the blonde.
“What’s your name?”
She swallowed hard. “Ally.”
“Ally what?”
“Ally Prixman.”
He nodded. “Then you’re exactly the girl we’ve been looking for. Do you know why you’re here?”
She shook her head. “I’m guessing this is because of something my dad did?”
Why was he noticing the bruise forming on her temple or the way her full lower lip quivered? He usually started these interrogations with a lot less conversation and a lot more pain.
“Richard Prixman. You don’t look anything like him,” Lord said.
She shrugged. “He was a sperm donor, that’s about it.”
Lord chuckled, so did Brick.
“Well, regardless of how you two spent the holidays, he’s still your blood, and that motherfucker screwed me over.”
“What did he do this time?” she asked. “And who are you?”
He smirked, and it wasn’t the kind before he gutted a man. It was a real fucking smirk because, for some odd reason, this girl amused him.
Lord stood up, stretching out his legs. He motioned for Stump to get her to her feet.
He paced back and forth.
“Your father tried to sell me out. He abused my trust, and I don’t take that lightly.” He stopped, running one hand through his hair. “As for who I am, sweetheart, have you heard of the Straight to Hell MC?”
****
Of course, she had. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
She knew her father had dealt with a lot of unsavory characters, but nothing like this. Did he not realize what he was doing? You never crossed an MC, especially not one notorious for bloodshed and making people disappear. She’d worked at Riches Bar for a while now and heard a lot of talk. There was no way she was naïve to what the hulk of a man in front of her was capable of.
And Ally didn’t need to know this man’s rank. Without a doubt, he was the one in charge, the prez of the club. He moved with confidence and restrained power. For a biker, he was ruggedly attractive, even with the grisly scar on the side of his face. Or maybe in spite of it.
She couldn’t tell how much of him was covered in tattoos but she saw ink peek out from under his sleeves and collar. He was huge and hard with muscle. A short beard covered a strong jawline. How could such a delicious-looking man be the one to end her life?
Becky would kill her if she knew how wet Ally was for a dirty biker, one ready to slaughter her for sins she never committed. Unless…
“Did he sell me to you?”
He looked taken aback, so she knew she’d be wrong in the assumption. Part of her was actually disappointed. If she had to belong to a man, why not this one? She pushed her twisted thoughts away and focused on her reality. The one where bikers treated women like trash, cheated on them, and beat them without a second thought. She didn’t want to be a man’s punching bag.
“Now there’s a thought,” he said. A devilish little smile revealed the crinkles next to his eyes. Why did it have to turn her on? Had she ever seen eyes so black?
She kept quiet.
“When’s the last time you saw your father?”
Ally shrugged. “I can’t even remember it’s been so long. Last time I saw him, he wanted to borrow two hundred dollars for a debt.”
“Did you give it to him?”
She scoffed. “I have ten cents in my bank account.”
The man chewed on his lower lip as if conflicted. She hadn’t moved, even though her entire body ached. Then he stepped away and talked to one of the other bikers wearing cuts.
“Sure thing, Lord.” Then the biker grabbed the cop from last night by the sleeve and led him away toward the barn behind them.
Her nerves began to pick up. She was next. They were both dead.
Ally attempted to think of anything to distract him from killing her, to appeal to any shred of humanity left inside of him.
“Why do they call you Lord? Is your club like a cult or something?”
She immediately regretted her words, holding her breath and tensing.
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s just a name. Don’t read so much into everything.”
The guy holding her exhaled a frustrated sigh, giving her a jostle. “What are we doing with her, boss?”
“Relax.”
The way he looked at her was unnerving or titillating, she wasn’t sure.