Home > Faking it All (Hellfire Riders MC #10)(4)

Faking it All (Hellfire Riders MC #10)(4)
Author: Kati Wilde

Around the table, brothers are shaking their heads, half looking pissed and the other half disbelieving. Stealing the Coyotes’ money is stupid enough. Using my name is stupider. But speaking lies about the Riders, issuing threats in our name and potentially damaging our relationships with other motorcycle clubs—that’s fucking suicidal.

The prez leans forward, his stare burning the length of the table and into me. “The Coyotes only want their money. As it was the Hellfire Riders’ name he whored out, they’re allowing our club the courtesy of letting us deal with him. And as he’s your relation, I’m giving you the courtesy of handling it.”

Corey Harris isn’t my relation. He’s just the dumbshit who married my sister. It’s fucking shameful that his name is even connected to mine.

But that’s not the answer the prez is looking for. “This club’s name won’t pass his lips again,” I tell him.

“You see it doesn’t. Or next time I’ll send Blowback.”

To kill him—or at least make Corey wish he was dead. I wouldn’t be sorry. Not until my sister started crying. So I’ll take care of it.

I nod. “I’ll see it done.”

“Make sure Howler gets his cash, too.”

There’s no fucking hope that Corey will have it. But I nod, because this isn’t the first time I’ve bailed that asshole out. At least with this babysitting job, I should be able to afford it. “I’ll do that. How much?”

The prez looks to Blowback, who says, “Eight thousand.”

Jesus. I see a few of the brothers wincing, because they know where that cash is coming from, too. Me, I’m just thinking that my brother-in-law isn’t the only dumbshit. Someone in the Blue Coyotes must be, too, trusting him with that much meth.

But on that point, I keep my trap shut—and hope this damn job lasts a while. The longer it runs, the bigger my cut.

The prez finally eases back, looks to Widowmaker. “Next item?”

“Babysitting,” the old man says, then looks up at me over the rims of his glasses. “A movie star.”

I frown. “That slick asshole downstairs?” I’ve seen a lot of films in my day and I’m sure I’ve never seen his face before. “Or is ‘movie star’ a nice way of saying he’s in porn?”

You rarely see those guys’ faces. Thank fuck.

“His wife’s the movie star,” Thorne says, grinning as if he didn’t just say wife and blow my whole day to shit.

Blow it to shit worse than it already is. And hell if I know why. All I had was one look at her long hair and longer legs and golden skin. Hearing she belongs to someone else shouldn’t make my gut clench like I’m on the verge of puking. But it does.

I do my best to ignore it. “So she’s in porn?”

With that ass, probably raking in the cash. And not just her husband touching her. A whole army of men fucking her.

And now my gut’s twisting tighter.

Beside me, Spiral’s laughing, shaking his head. “Not porn, brother.”

“Well, what the hell is any other kind of movie star doing here?Whoever she is, whoever her husband is, they’re not the type to look at the Hellfire Riders to babysit.” I can’t imagine how they even heard of us. The Riders don’t advertise our services. People come to us by word-of-mouth, and that word doesn’t exactly reach to Hollywood. It doesn’t make any sense. “If they’re paying twenty thousand a day, they’ve got cash to burn. And they’ve already got professional muscle. So why are we being hired to babysit the two of them?”

“Not both. Just the wife,” Thorne says.

That makes even less sense. “So you’re telling me a Hollywood actress is hiding away at our clubhouse by herself? You’re saying her husband is leaving her here alone with a bunch of bikers?”

If she were mine, I wouldn’t leave her alone with any of us.

Especially not Knucklehead, who throws in, “Fuck, man. You’re complaining about watching a looker like that? Put me in charge of babysitting, then. I’ll take real good care of her.”

“Not a woman on this planet has ever said anything you’ve done to her is ‘real good,’” I tell him, and while the brothers are getting a laugh out of that, I look to Thorne again. “I don’t give a fuck what she looks like. I’m saying that shit isn’t adding up. And when shit doesn’t add up, that means I’m missing critical info that might make the difference between me doing my job well or fucking it up.”

The VP nods. “You aren’t wrong. There’s details we’ll fill in for you after the meeting.” He flicks a glance at the prez and at Blowback before sliding his gaze around the table. “Right now Molly’s airing out the suite on the other side of the lodge. I don’t expect our guest will venture out much, not with that face. She’s too recognizable, and in this particular job, the most important thing is keeping her whereabouts a secret. So what everyone here needs to know is that mouths better be zipped tight. I hear any whisper about Keri Bishop being in town, any hint that she’s out here on the ranch, I’m not stopping until I track down who opened their fucking mouths.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. “Did you say Keri Bishop?”

Thorne nods, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s right. So maybe you care what she looks like now?”

Not like he thinks. Not like any of the brothers are thinking as chuckles and grins start spreading around the table. Because these assholes don’t have a lot of patience for bullshit, especially the kind of artificial bullshit that Hollywood serves up, but I’d bet half of them have jerked off to an image of Keri Bishop at one time or another. Because, yeah. With her big blue eyes and soft full lips, she’s a hell of a looker. A walking wet dream.

But although I know her face better than my own, I can’t say my hand’s ever strayed near my dick while looking at it. Because that face means something else to me.

A younger version of that face sang and danced her way through one of those Disney kid shows while my sisters were growing up. I didn’t pay any attention then but Holly and Sandy did. A poster of a young Keri Bishop was hanging over Holly’s bed the day she disappeared. And the movie we were at, that was Keri Bishop’s, too. Holly begged me to take her, because she wanted to be just like Keri Bishop. So that girl’s face was up on the screen while I was frantically searching every row of that theater.

And I saw that girl’s face grow into a woman’s face in other theaters, because I had the crazy hope that the sick fucker who took Holly would repeat what worked so well for him before. I had the crazy hope that I’d find him. That I’d save some other girl from the terror Holly must have lived through.

Now Keri Bishop herself is here—downstairs in the Hellfire Riders’ clubhouse—and she’ll be under my protection.

Some people might look at this as a second chance. Holly disappeared on my watch and now I’ve got an opportunity to make amends, protecting the woman Holly wanted to be. But I don’t believe the universe gives second chances. Instead it lines you up for a second kick in the teeth, reminds you that no matter how much you’ve already paid, it wasn’t enough. Soon you’ll be paying again. And if I fuck up a job like this, I won’t have anything left.

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