Free (Chaos #6) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,196

into selling drugs and it had blossomed from there.

He’d never had a proper job.

And apparently, a man with a record, as minor as his early infractions were, that had to do with drugs and prostitution, so when they did background checks (and they all did background checks), he had not been able to find one.

He hadn’t tried that route for long, thinking, with his links to cartels, he could get a supply to sell himself to get him back on his feet.

Regrettably, they’d seen his tape, and the first one to actually take his call told him if he tried to phone again, he’d find his head no longer on his body.

He had not made another call.

He’d flirted, briefly, with going to the cops and providing testimony in exchange for immunity and WITSEC.

But those cartels had ways, and regardless, he might be a paid fucktoy, but he was no rat.

So now he was here, selling his ass for three hundred dollars a fuck (and giving thirty percent of that to the agency, highway fucking robbery), five hundred if two were there to give it a go, four hundred if they wanted to tie him up, five hundred if there were whips, batons, crops, paddles, clamps and/or hoods involved.

The scale of shit people would pay to do to him was endless.

At least he was no longer on the streets.

That had not been fun.

He wrested the orgasm out of his cock in the shower while he washed his latest john away.

It was not enjoyable.

But at least his dick was no longer hard.

And it would prove it was going to be not a very good night when he got out, put on fleecy joggers and a hoodie he got at fucking Macy’s, of all fucking places (but at least they were soft against his skin), and his phone rang.

He didn’t know who the caller was, but he’d earned his rent and the payment on his car and enough to pay the utilities with a goodly amount left over to feed himself and put on a decent suit and go to a nice restaurant that month.

This meant he wasn’t selling his ass for another week.

Not to mention that huge cock he’d just taken?

He’d be doing exercises while watching TV to tighten back up after he got jacked by that fucking snake.

He took the call anyway. It could be a simple blowjob, or he’d be doing the fucking and that he would do in order to add a little extra to what he’d been socking away to rent a better place and get some nicer things.

He was forced to admit, he appreciated tonight’s gratuity. It was generous. It wasn’t unheard of someone tossed him a twenty or a fifty, but two hundred was way outside the norm.

He had his eye on a better couch and was close to having the cash to buy it, that two hundred would help a great deal. Next time, he’d offer to suck the husband’s cock as a freebie before taking that beast, just to confirm them as regulars if they tipped that big.

“Yeah?” he grunted into the phone, opening his fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

He always did the six-pack discount. It wasn’t top of the line but at least it wasn’t five bucks, and he could sometimes get some decent ones with the discount if they were on sale as well.

“It’s good to have regulars, no, Benito?” Mamá Nana’s voice came through his phone.

She sounded like she was laughing.

He took the phone from his ear like it burned.

His hands were shaking when he disconnected and moved his finger over the screen to block her number.

Christ, he was in fucking Seattle.

It had been years.

And she was watching.

How did she even know they’d asked him back?

Christ.

To steady himself, he poured a glass of wine, got out his poor man’s brie and the water crackers and moved to his couch.

He fired up the subscription service, which was the only thing he got because he refused to waste money on cable when they had nothing on.

Anyway, he preferred to binge.

The second he clicked in, the trailer that came up on the top of his favorites listing espoused it as an award-winning, independently filmed documentary.

But Benito was frozen, glass of chilled, cheap wine in one hand, remote in the other, “Midnight Rider” playing over some images and footage done in black and white.

His eyes darted left and he read:

Blood, Guts and Brotherhood: The Story of the Chaos MC

From award-winning filmmaker, Rebel

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