“I found the scent. He’s heading north,” I say to the rest of the guys. When we shift into our animals, we can communicate through our thoughts.
“Lead the way,” Tyson, President of our MC, tells me.
“Let’s go.” August, Vice President of our MC, laughs.
I change course to track the man that I can’t wait to rip to shreds and find a cabin sitting in a clearing.
“He’s in there,” I inform them.
“How do you want to handle this?” Tyson asks me.
“Let’s make him shit himself when we all break in through the door and windows. Look around something out of the ordinary, an explosive or anything.” We stalk up to the cabin. I’m going in through the front door, and the rest of the guys are spread around the cabin, ready to enter when they get the signal. There’s no smell of gunpowder or fertilizer, so I don’t think there’s a bomb in the cabin, but I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially if the little boy is still alive in there. Once I get the okay that they find nothing, I start the countdown. “On the count of three.”
The guys all murmur, “Yes.”
“One. Two. Three.” We race into the one-story cabin, stopping in our tracks when we see the man, we’ve been hunting standing over a little boy in the living room. His back is to us, and he’s holding a knife that’s dripping with blood. It’s pooling next to his right foot.
There’s a fire in the fireplace giving off a glow that’s reflecting off the sweet little boy whose heartbeat is slowing as the breath leaves his body. We are too late.
Whipping around to face me, I can see the fear in his eyes as he screams. He tries to reach for the gun that’s on the coffee table to the left of him, but I pounce first, clawing at him. My brothers and I take turns, torturing him a little bit until it’s finally my time to finish him. As the enforcer of the group, it is my privilege.
His hands are bound, and the guys are holding his legs open. I hiss at him, ripping his cock off and spitting it across the room. The man shrieks before passing out from the pain and blood loss. I spit out the blood that’s in my mouth.
“You are a madman, Jackson.” Finn chuckles.
“I could seriously go for some hot dogs.” I laugh, and the rest of the guys groan at my bad joke. We head back to the clubhouse. There we will tip off the cops as to where they can find what’s left of this scumbag.
266
Polly Lawrence
Two years later
Wiping down the table after the last group of high schoolers left, I watch the students, my customers, get into their Beemers, Escalades, and Mercedes. I’m often jealous of the fact their parents give them whatever they want while my parents made me start working in this dive of a diner at the age of fifteen. Unlike them, I didn’t get to be here with my friends or anyone for that matter. These days, I’m twenty-years-old, and the only thing my parents gave me was the boot when I turned eighteen. I bounced from shelter to shelter until I was attacked for staring at a drugged-out woman the wrong way. Now, instead of shelters, I sleep on the park bench, unless it’s raining or snowing, then I’m under the bridge.
“You okay?” Daisy, the manager of the diner, comes over to me from the kitchen carrying her latest order of burgers and fries as she notices me staring out the window lost in thought.
“Fifty dollars’ worth of food and five cents for a tip.” I roll my eyes. “I really don’t like teenagers,” I grumble as Daisy snickers.
“Honey, you’re still a teenager,” Daisy reminds me.
“I’m twenty, so I’m no longer a teenager, but even when I was, I wasn’t that bad,” I amend, sticking my tongue out at Daisy. Suddenly, my body feels chilled. The door opens, causing me to shiver, and three men in jeans, t-shirts, and cuts saunter in.
“They get better looking the more they come in. If I wasn’t happily married…” Daisy sighs as she heads back to the counter while I grab some menus to take over to our new customers.
“Hi, and welcome to Daisy’s Diner. I’m Polly, and I'm going to be your server today.” I smile as I pass out the menus and set silverware down on the table. “Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?” They all order coffee, and I retreat as quickly as I can. It’s not that the Dark Leopards MC scares me or makes me uncomfortable, but the one sitting near the window has these beautiful green eyes, and when he stares at me, I feel this unbelievable pull toward him.
As I make a fresh pot of coffee, we get busy. I’m flying from table to table, trying to keep everyone happy. The orders come in, and I finally make it back to the bikers’ table to give them their food.
It has probably been about twenty minutes since I had a chance to get back there. “Sorry. Do you want some more coffee? Dessert?” I smile.
The guy with the green eyes gazes at me, and my stomach flip flops. “Coffee, please.” He grins, and I nod and turn to head back to the counter when one of the regulars, Bobby something, blocks my way.
“Polly wanna cracker?” Bobby waggles his eyebrows.
“No, Bobby. You’re drunk. So, please, go sit down, and I’ll bring you some coffee.” I try to step around him in a different direction.
“But Bobby really wants Polly to have his cracker.” He is speaking in baby-talk.
“No! Now, go away.” I get in his face, trying to be a tough girl, but my voice shakes, and he grips my arm painfully. “Ow! You’re hurting me. Knock it off!” I beg.
“The lady told you to go away. Let her
