Read Online Unholy: The Unholys MC by Ellen Harper - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen Harper
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Crime, Military, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, Murder, Inspirational, Thrillers & Suspense, Vigilante Justice, Kidnapping, Heist
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Stitches nodded his head in agreement, then offered his hand to me. “Alright. It’s yours.”
I put my hand in his, gripping tightly before easing off to let him go. Except he didn’t release my hand right away. Instead, he used it to pull me slightly closer and lowered his voice as he asked, “What’s so special about Miners to Birch?”
I grit my teeth. I wouldn’t tell him the details; he didn’t need to know them. But I did tell him, “Sentimental value, you know?”
Stitches searched my eyes as though unconvinced, but after a moment, he pulled back and released my hand with a laugh. “Sentimental value,” he repeated, grinning. “Of course, of course. The Unholys always had that about them. Sentimentality, right?” He laughed again.
I frowned, but said nothing. So long as I kept Charlemagne’s, I didn’t care about the rest.
We finished the meeting, everyone more or less happy with the terms—except for maybe Specter, but he was rarely happy about anything. We each took pictures of the map, just to make sure no one fucked with the drawn lines later, and I let the Berserkers take the original copy with them. As they packed up, I looked over to the man who still hung suspended by a hook and a rope from the ceiling. He was finally waking up.
My face tightened, my jaw snapped shut as I ground my teeth together. I turned to Stitches and motioned towards the door as I shoved my hands into my pockets.
“You guys take off. I think we’re going to linger and see about your…present.”
Stitches gave me that same wicked, eager grin and I realized just how mad he was. It terrified me just a little, and I made a mental note not to trust Stitches too far. But he nodded to me and said, “You boys enjoy. It’s been a pleasure to do business with you.”
I said nothing as I watched them leave. I let the door close behind them and it wasn’t until I heard their bikes rev and finally peel out of the parking lot that I turned to the hanging man. I put my right hand into my left and pushed until I heard the knuckles crack.
“We’ve got some questions for you,” I told him.
The fear in his slowly focusing eyes told me that he knew what was coming and he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte
I got home late, but I’ll admit that I was surprised to find Johnny’s bike already parked in the garage. Only a couple of lights were on, but I could hear the sounds of running water as soon as I opened the door.
I’d stayed a while with Mom even after dinner and cleaning up the dishes. We talked about random things, nothing serious, because I couldn’t handle any more of that, and watched old black-and-white movies until Mom finally fell asleep. I kissed her forehead then and checked my phone for messages. A trickle of fear had gone through me when I saw that there were none. Not even a quick text.
Johnny’s fine, I’d told myself, but I hadn’t really believed it until I walked through that door.
“Johnny?” I called, an eerie déjà vu sweeping me. Suddenly, I felt panic and fear swamp me. I almost thought about turning and running, but if this was a repeat of that night, then I had to know. I had to know if Johnny was gone, because that changed everything.
That changed me.
“Here,” he answered after a moment, and as soon as his warm, heady voice filtered out to me, I relaxed. He was fine. I was being paranoid, overreacting. I was always overreacting these days.
The here had come from the kitchen, I thought, so I headed in that direction. The house was two stories, but fairly small. Plenty of room for the two of us, but add a third person to the mix and it was tiny. I’d insisted on no more crashers, not even for a night, because there was only one bathroom and I was tired of coming downstairs to find a half-dressed biker snoring on the couch.
The front door opened up directly
I put my hand in his, gripping tightly before easing off to let him go. Except he didn’t release my hand right away. Instead, he used it to pull me slightly closer and lowered his voice as he asked, “What’s so special about Miners to Birch?”
I grit my teeth. I wouldn’t tell him the details; he didn’t need to know them. But I did tell him, “Sentimental value, you know?”
Stitches searched my eyes as though unconvinced, but after a moment, he pulled back and released my hand with a laugh. “Sentimental value,” he repeated, grinning. “Of course, of course. The Unholys always had that about them. Sentimentality, right?” He laughed again.
I frowned, but said nothing. So long as I kept Charlemagne’s, I didn’t care about the rest.
We finished the meeting, everyone more or less happy with the terms—except for maybe Specter, but he was rarely happy about anything. We each took pictures of the map, just to make sure no one fucked with the drawn lines later, and I let the Berserkers take the original copy with them. As they packed up, I looked over to the man who still hung suspended by a hook and a rope from the ceiling. He was finally waking up.
My face tightened, my jaw snapped shut as I ground my teeth together. I turned to Stitches and motioned towards the door as I shoved my hands into my pockets.
“You guys take off. I think we’re going to linger and see about your…present.”
Stitches gave me that same wicked, eager grin and I realized just how mad he was. It terrified me just a little, and I made a mental note not to trust Stitches too far. But he nodded to me and said, “You boys enjoy. It’s been a pleasure to do business with you.”
I said nothing as I watched them leave. I let the door close behind them and it wasn’t until I heard their bikes rev and finally peel out of the parking lot that I turned to the hanging man. I put my right hand into my left and pushed until I heard the knuckles crack.
“We’ve got some questions for you,” I told him.
The fear in his slowly focusing eyes told me that he knew what was coming and he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte
I got home late, but I’ll admit that I was surprised to find Johnny’s bike already parked in the garage. Only a couple of lights were on, but I could hear the sounds of running water as soon as I opened the door.
I’d stayed a while with Mom even after dinner and cleaning up the dishes. We talked about random things, nothing serious, because I couldn’t handle any more of that, and watched old black-and-white movies until Mom finally fell asleep. I kissed her forehead then and checked my phone for messages. A trickle of fear had gone through me when I saw that there were none. Not even a quick text.
Johnny’s fine, I’d told myself, but I hadn’t really believed it until I walked through that door.
“Johnny?” I called, an eerie déjà vu sweeping me. Suddenly, I felt panic and fear swamp me. I almost thought about turning and running, but if this was a repeat of that night, then I had to know. I had to know if Johnny was gone, because that changed everything.
That changed me.
“Here,” he answered after a moment, and as soon as his warm, heady voice filtered out to me, I relaxed. He was fine. I was being paranoid, overreacting. I was always overreacting these days.
The here had come from the kitchen, I thought, so I headed in that direction. The house was two stories, but fairly small. Plenty of room for the two of us, but add a third person to the mix and it was tiny. I’d insisted on no more crashers, not even for a night, because there was only one bathroom and I was tired of coming downstairs to find a half-dressed biker snoring on the couch.
The front door opened up directly
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