Page 6 of Property of Stone
Hecouldresist them, but that would only mean more time behind bars. Hard to help run a goddamn MC when you’re stuck inside.
Add in the fact the blonde and her son had already dealt with enough trauma for the day; they really didn’t need to see him get his ass kicked and dragged away.
For fuck’s sake.
“Turn around and lace your fingers behind your head! Do it now!”
He was tempted to ask them, “Or what?” but he already knew. He’d been through this shit before. More times than he could count.
“I’m sorry.” The woman’s whisper shook as badly as her hands. She was probably going into shock. “Is there anything I can do?”
Not unless she wanted to be cuffed and stuffed, too. “Make sure you document what that motherfucker did and drag his ass back to court. Get a PFA for you and your kid.” Not that the Protection From Abuse order was worth the paper it was printed on, but at least this bullshit with her ex would be documented.
With his bandana still pressed to her nose, she nodded. “I will. Again, I’m sorry you had to get involved.”
“I’m not.” It went against his grain to turn his back on the three pigs with their guns trained on him. But he did it—forher—then slowly lifted his arms and interlaced his fingers behind his head.
“Walk backwards toward the sound of my voice. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.Same old fucking song and dance.
He could do this routine in his sleep.
They continued to annoy the fuck out of him by shouting more orders until they had him face-planted on a pig-mobile’s hot hood and cuffed, searched, and divested of his knife, his keys, his chain wallet, his cell phone, and the remainder of the pre-rolled found stuffed deep in his front jeans pocket.
It was bullshit that any scratch made from the rides he took photos of today would now be used toward his defense fund.
He was damn sure that wouldn’t go over well with Ransom. In fact, the prez might let him rot in prison this time.
And Stone wouldn’t blame him one damn bit.
Chapter One
Thirteen months, two weeks, three days and six hours later
“Fuck me,”Stone grumbled when he heard it.
“I am, baby. I’m fucking yousoooogood.”
Jesus fuckin’ Christ.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a second before dropping them to the ringing phone on the nightstand next to his bed in the clubhouse.
He had no idea who was calling, but it could be a good paying collection job and he could use the scratch. That left him no choice but to answer, even while one of their sweet butts rode his dick.
After thirteen months in the fucking slammer, he had a lot of catching up to do, so he’d been working his way through all of the Kings’ club girls.
One at a time.
Two at a time.
Sometimes three at a time. It all depended on his mood and how much he wanted to drain his balls.
As soon as he tagged the phone, the ringing stopped. Two seconds later, it started again.
Of fuckin’ course.
He set his jaw and glanced at Windy’s huge tits as they flopped in time with her bouncing on his dick. “Give it a rest, woman. Need to take this.”
