Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,77

The Prez cocks his gun again and fires, ripping a hole in her chest.

More blood sprays over me, coating me in red. I’m shaking. Instead of being curious, I’m fucking terrified. A tear slips down my cheek, and my body quakes from the shock.

Prez squats in front of me and twists the end of his mustache with his finger, curling it up as he ponders his thoughts. “I never liked him anyway. And Chrissy wasn’t all that great at sucking dick.” His eyes fall to my mouth. “I bet those lips are made for sucking cock, aren’t they?”

“They sure are,” Cohen says from behind the Prez, who just took out his own brother. Cohen is wearing a leather cut that says prospect on it. “Believe me when I say firsthand, you’re going to get a lot of pleasure out of her.”

“Where is Aidan?” Nothing else matters. I just need to know where my son is.

“Aidan is long gone, Dawn. Sold him. Made a pretty penny. Cut a deal with the Hellhounds here, and now we have a pretty good business going.”

“You sold him? Where? You asshole! Where is my son! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t take me to him,” I sob, spitting out the rotten blood that landed on my lips.

“You’re never going to see him again. Maybe now you’ll learn not to be disrespectful toward me. Don’t worry, if you’re good, I’ll give you another one.” Cohen rolls his eyes, speaking as if Aidan is easily replaced.

“I don’t want another one. I want Aidan! I don’t want anything else. Just take me to him, please. I’ll do anything,” I beg. “Sell me to the person you sold him to. Please, I just want to see him. Is he okay?”

“No more questions.” Prez stands and lights another joint. “Gather a few men and have them take out the trash.” He kicks the dead biker’s foot, then grabs me by the arm and forces me to stand. My feet slip on a puddle of blood and I lose my footing, but Prez doesn’t seem to care; he drags me from the room, leaving behind the women and two dead bodies. “Don’t bother me. This room is off-limits!” Prez’s patch says Mercy.

Mercy.

What fucking mercy?

He slams the door, locks it, and I run to the other side of the room, shivering so much my teeth are clinking together.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he says, turning to me with a different look in his eyes.

“I am. You need to stay away from me. You have no idea who is looking for me! You’ve really stepped in the shit, buddy!” I mouth off and then pinch my lips shut to stop myself from digging my own grave.

“No, you don’t need to be afraid.” His voice is even different, lighter, smoother, not so deep and threatening. “I’m not Mercy or the Prez,” he whispers.

“You just shot two people!” I scream, and he holds out his hands, gesturing them down, which tells me to lower my voice.

“They were dead anyway. Sometimes this job has consequences, and sometimes innocent lives are sacrificed, but I don’t think that guy was too innocent, do you?”

“Who are you?” The man takes off the cut and throws it on the bed, then reaches into his back pocket to pull out a wallet. My back stays against the wall, wishing like hell the damn thing would give and take me away to another planet.

He unfolds his wallet to show a badge. “I’m FBI. I’ve been undercover for a very long time. The Bureau has been building a case against the Hounds for years. There are so many activities they have their hands in.”

“There are women here. Someone died. How could you… You’re just as bad as they are!” I spout.

“The girl that’s dead isn’t dead. She’s an agent too. This is real shit. It took me years to build up trust with this group. Years. If you’re going to ruin that for me, I’ll shoot you. I won’t have my case compromised. When Cohen came to us, he had already used one of the members to ship your kid off, or I would have found a way to put him in protective custody. He’s gone. I can find him, but in order to do that, you have to let me trade you to the seller.”

“You’re a good guy?”

He rubs his graying mustache, his bulging bicep flexing against his shirt. “I’m better