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

hands all over her as he wanted. Or pinned her to a wall and sank between those heavenly thighs.
    With an uncomfortable bulge in his jeans, he hit the gas and roared down the street. The miles between the Raiders’ club and Heller’s Gap gave him too much time to think.
    Four years ago his unit had been sent to cover a supply convoy moving into a small town. Drake spent half a month before the operation watching the activities. He set up on the single dirt track leading in and out. He knew what time the people woke up, went to sleep, and even how long they cooked their vegetables.
    In the end, the Afghans had set up an ambush. It had been one of the biggest casualties his unit had taken during all their years together.
    Drake blamed himself because he should have seen suspicious activity. Absolutely nothing was on his radar.
    Five friends had lost their lives because of his failure.
    As soon as he realized the mess they were in, he’d cooked up a bomb, got the survivors of his unit out, and blown the fucking place up.
    It had helped with his rage—for a while.
    He didn’t have time to sit and observe Delta as long as he had the Afghan village. For all he knew, the guy he’d knocked out and thrown into the garbage had been sent after him. Was Drake missing things—crucial things just like the Afghan ambush?
    As he guided his bike onto the straight stretch to Heller’s Gap, he mulled over everything. The man who had come outside and put his arms around Delta hadn’t harmed her, yet the tightening of her thigh muscle had alerted Drake. If he’d been able to see her face, he would know for certain what the hell was going on.
    Although Delta was damn good at masking her emotions.
    The Raiders were all alike. Whether it was the Black Oath, Long Branch, or Stealth charters, they were hated by blacks, browns, whites, skinheads. It didn’t matter. The Raiders were the foulest group of one-percenters in the country. They killed in cold blood and abused women and children. They had their dirty fingers in everything from Canadian arms to child pornography.
    He arrived at The Gearhead in a foul mood, not that anyone noticed.
    He helped Burns unpack cases of alcohol the Sons had just dropped off that morning. He and Burns worked well together—both bodies patched up then patched into the club. Neither was willing to share information or have emotional discussions about their pasts.
    “Thanks, man.” Burns clapped him on the shoulder.
    “No problem. How’s Operation Riches?” He gave a chin-nod toward the back room set up like a mini casino.
    “Four grand in profit yesterday.” Burns’ eyes gleamed. As manager he got the biggest cut. His risk was huge. If they were raided, Burns would take most of the heat and go to prison. He should be compensated.
    Drake released a low whistle. “Lucrative business.”
    “Better than the alcohol trade. That’s been worrisome lately.” An inspector had been by, and they’d hurriedly stashed what alcohol they had left in an underground room. But she’d been clearly suspicious of a bar that didn’t have much more than beer on premises.
    In the end, Burns complimented her a dozen or so times until the old hag was blushing. It didn’t matter that his face was a twisted mass of scar tissue. He was a sweet talker, and she’d probably gone home with wet old lady panties.
    Drake nodded. “She’ll be back.”
    “I know. I was thinking we should get a few more kegs, some six-packs of beer and a little whiskey to keep here—the kind we pay state tax on.”
    “That’s a good idea. Do it. The rest we can bring up from underground as we need.” Drake opened the door to the back room and peeked inside. Two die-hard gamblers sat in the dimness. The room was fogged with blue smoke. Obviously they’d been sitting here all night. Burns had an employee called Meat seated on a high stool to keep watch over them, a weapon across his knee. Word was Meat had gotten his name because he sported a