A price to pay : RED HORSEMEN MC 3 by Raven Amor

Author:Raven Amor [Amor, Raven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

STORM

I watch as the room breaks out in chaos at the thought of a hit out on one of us. Cage looks over at me, those secrets in his eyes closer to the surface than usual. I knew something was happening. The guys were tense, and I hated being out of the loop but know how the club works and respect it.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the guys. Cage, go tell Red. No one leaves.” Pres catches all our attention. We all lift our chins in agreement. Everyone slaps Ice’s back as he stares off into the distance, smoke escaping his lips.

Cas storms out of the room in front of me, eyes searching, no doubt looking for Sienna, and forgetting she’s not here. She’s become a constant around us these last fifteen months, always there. I don’t trust the bitch, or the sweet-as-candy mask she wears. Her green eyes hide dark secrets that she easily conceals. Sienna’s movements are always fluid. Reminding me of the women I met in the war zones. The coldness and closed body aren’t something she learned. It is created, like in the military. They break the person to make a soldier; a deadly weapon capable of protecting and killing. Sienna has been damaged in the same way. After years of practice, I can recognize it, something that’s made the same as you. It’s a connection, just like your reflection. You can’t hide from it. She is as tight as Fort Knox and as secretive as area 51. And that makes me uneasy.

I grab the beer Smithy puts on the bar and walk outside to escape everything. Sometimes the club is too much, the noise suffocating. The crowd makes my body itch, and my skin crawl. It puts me on high alert. I know I’m home; I have made it. Had survived hell and worse. But it’s like my mind and body hasn’t got the message. They’re stuck in a place that doesn’t exist anymore. My skin is still heated as if I’m still under the Afghanistan sun. My throat clogged with sand, and the smell that lingered in the air; the unmistakable stench of death.

My stomach clenches as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It’s a feeling that saved my war brothers on more than one occasion. I scan the grounds as all my muscles tighten. My senses are still on high alert, and the feeling in my gut doesn’t ease. It’s something I’ve never felt here. Not while I’ve been with the club. A thousand eyes are watching like pinpricks over my skin.

“What’s up, brother?” I jump at the rough voice and see Rev. The devil incarnate, death himself. I am rarely scared of anything. After seeing the stuff I had, there wasn’t much left to see. War is a horror story. But Rev, that man, sent an uneasy sensation through me. If anyone could truly depict death, it would be him; those eyes tell you he’s been

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