Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

than to struggle. To do so was like dangling a raw steak in front of a killer dog. He’d only get more excited.
    She went dead still just as Alesander plunged his knife into Trayson’s side. His eyes widened in shock at the blade worked between his ribs.
    “Fucking hell, someone get the doc.” Lucky sounded almost bored. Certainly not concerned that one of his best guys had a knife buried in his chest.
    Their “doc” wasn’t a Raider but a former doctor who’d lost his license because of some illegal activities. Who knew the real story—Delta didn’t want to.
    Swaying at the sight of the dark stain spreading under Trayson, she yanked free of the man grinding his cock against her, and ran.
    She pushed into the kitchen and kept going right out the back door. Hopefully everyone would be too concerned about their brother to worry about Girl.
    •●•
    As soon as Drake spotted her, his muscles locked in preparation for a fight. She was behind the Raiders gates, protected by barbed wire and enough illegal arms trickling down from Canada to take down the whole shitty town.
    Not for long.
    Drake crowded closer to the block wall surrounding the neighboring property. He didn’t believe for a minute Raiders weren’t patrolling the whole block, but Drake wasn’t against cutting someone’s throat.
    He threw out his senses. The same burning garbage smell that must be an inherent part of the town, an occasional car on the street. Funny how he was sixty miles from home, yet it felt farther.
    Though he hadn’t been raised in Heller’s Gap, it had become home. After being discharged from the Marines and then his accident, he’d spent half a year in a VA hospital on the east coast, learning how to walk again. He didn’t have a lot of money saved, so he bought a beater car and headed south where his leg wouldn’t ache so much.
    He’d rolled into the small Alabama town and his car had up and died. Basically he’d put down roots in Heller’s Gap because it was the end of the line. He was out of money, couldn’t get another car. So he’d gone to work at a biker bar called The Gearhead.
    It hadn’t taken more than a few months before Jamison had made Drake a Hell’s Sons prospect, and less time before they patched him in. Drake had a little family somewhere west of the Mississippi but the Sons were his family.
    The sun glinted off the chain link fence and sparkled along the razor-sharp wire at the top. A bomb vial rested inside his cut, against his heart. It was a backup plan, but he couldn’t storm the Raiders’ club a second time using the same scare tactic.
    There was no movement outside of the block walls, which indicated the enemy partied all night and slept half the day. Business fell in between.
    Drake had his own business to see to. Jamison had handed over the new gambling enterprise. It was barely launched, but cash was already coming in. There were some bugs to be worked out, and Drake would give them his attention—right after he made sure Delta was okay.
    His gut told him she wasn’t.
    Slow, heavy footsteps coming toward him. He turned his head, listening, counting, analyzing location.
    A man wearing boots directly to his right, walking along the narrow street running between the Raiders’ club and an auto body shop.
    Drake locked his titanium leg under him, prepared to launch to his feet. If the pedestrian came around the corner wearing a Raiders cut, the game was on.
    Whooshing tires. Someone hammering wood a few blocks over and a phone ringing in the auto body shop.
    The footsteps were coming faster, and the guy was on his cell. “Yeah, boss, get the doc. I’m on it.”
    With every step that came closer to Drake, his pulse slowed. He was in complete control.
    Twelve, thirteen, fourteen.
    A broad shoulder appeared around the corner first, followed by a torso sporting the unmistakable black leather cut with the Raiders patch, a red spider in a white web.
    Drake lunged at him. The man wasn’t bigger,