Free Game Changer (Hell's Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro Page A

ever fucking expected to see in this shithole den of thieves.
    Seeing her had hit him so hard in the chest it plummeted him forward. One thought, get to her and get her the fuck out of there. Then she kicks at him, pushes him and walks up to Cage, easily the biggest badass in a room of very big badasses and says some shit about needing to see the guy behind the bar. Who everyone in the room knows is the GO TO GUY.
    Then Jules tells him to back off. Back the fuck off?? He had to be shitting. Had to be. Then the shit about Prosper and her lighting into him.
    Making no sense.
    Then making all the sense in the world.
    He could definitely see where she got that, the money thing. He had gone to explain it and he got so caught up seeing her beaten up like that, then got caught up in a different way, that the message didn’t get relayed. So she had gotten a different message. And it had scared the shit right out of her. Then she was raging at him.
    Raging. At. Him.
    Then Raine had started crying.
    Diego watched as his brother Jules had made her a drink, and made her smile. He watched as Jules put his hand in her hair and leaned in close.
    Really close.
    Too fucking close.
    Then seeing her with Prosper. Raine not being able to look at him, looking all beautiful and broken. Pulling herself in like that. It moved Diego right off the chair, and if it wasn’t for Jules pulling him back, it would have been him holding her. Not Prosper. It would have been him. Whether she wanted it or not, it would have been him.

Chapter 18
    The Hell’s Saints compound consisted of a few buildings and a large clearing. There was the main clubhouse where Prosper and I sat talking into the night and half the next day. The room that had been “cleared.” It was a large room that housed a long fully stocked bar, several tables and chairs, a couple of pool tables, and a variety of big worn couches and deep soft seats. To the right of the main area lay a set of heavy wooden double doors that had the Hell’s Saints insignia on them and led to a meeting area.
    There were two other long buildings. One was a warehouse, and I wasn’t sure what was in that. The other was a dormitory style building. It was similar in size to the clubhouse but it held a large kitchen with several industrial size appliances. One very long table down the middle and several other small tables and chairs. Off the kitchen were two long hallways built shotgun style with rooms off the main corridor to the left and a back entrance. Those belonged to the brothers and were for their private use. Whatever that meant.
    Just to the back of the buildings was a large outside gathering area. There were several picnic tables, Adirondack chairs, grills and a big fire pit. A huge stack of wooden pallets and logs were covered under a tarp not too far from the pit. There was also a concrete slab with some more picnic tables that was covered by an open porch and wired for electricity.
    The whole compound was surrounded by woodlands and if it were not for my GPS getting me close to it, I would never have found my way.
    Prosper and I had sat talking long into the night and after more than a few cups of hot coffee, that talk continued into the next morning. There was so much to tell, so much to say. Once that door was open, the words came flooding in. He wanted to know everything about Claire and me. Everything I had to say, he was interesting in hearing.
    So I shared and watched. I watched taking my lead from the expressions on his face. When his eyes grew soft and his mouth curved into a small smile, I continued. When something I said made his eyes grow dark and hard, I hurried passed that to the next thing. After a while he sensed that, and kept his face open and neutral which made it both harder and easier to share. But I told him everything there was to tell. Letting him in, keeping nothing back. Eventually all that talk brought me to the events of the past week. Claire, Jamie, Gino, the fragile