Free Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC): Vegas Titans Series by Celia Loren

zoo. Wake up! I for one am with Dominic. The whole
reason that Depraved Club has become a problem is because we’ve been too busy
squabbling like dickwads with each other and sniffing our own assholes. If they
could get to Tate, who was as Dominic says twice the man as any one of us here,
we’re all definitely next. Act your age, not your damn shoe size.”
    Finally, Diesel throws up his hands in surrender. “Fine,” he
bites out. “But I maintain my question: how the fuck are we supposed to band
together and take down Leviathan Corp? This isn’t a fucking Robin Hood movie.”
    Bogie runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “Depraved
Clubs are like McDonalds—popping up fucking everywhere, every club is run like
a franchise restaurant with the same structure but a different manager. It’s
impossible to get at the head of the beast. I hate to say it, but Diesel’s got
a point—how do you fight the scale and budget and reach of a multinational
corporation? Even if we are all on the same page.” Bogie glances with distaste
at Diesel before he adds, “And that’s a big if.”
    “We don’t,” I say. “We can’t. Our only chance is to do what
we do best: hit them where we live. Tonight we took out the LIC Depraved Club,
and we’ve got their club manager running. Colt. He’s the one that killed Tate.
We’re on him. I suggest the same strategy to all of you. Turn their own war
strategy against them and give them a taste of their own medicine: take out
their Clubs, crush their revenue streams, eliminate their leadership. Leviathan
Corp will get the message to move on to greener pastures, because above all,
this is about profit for them. We disrupt their profit, we disrupt their plans.”
    Diesel is shaking his head. “It won’t work,” he grunts.
“It’s like a bee stinging a demon. They’ll just eat us alive and keep coming
back.”
    “Maybe,” I shout, my blood boiling. “But maybe I’m not quite
prepared to sell my soul and roll over dead just yet like some assholes I
know.”
    Diesel lunges at me again and this time the whole room
erupts into chaos. Striker is pulverizing Jax. Diesel and I are locked in a
wrestling match. Even Bogie and Dead-Eye Denim are shouting. Suddenly, there’s
an ear-splitting screeching sound.
    “Jesus!” I shout, throwing my arms over my head. “What the
fuck!”
    Everyone groans and turns to stare resentfully at Stout, who
is holding an air horn. I open my mouth to try and pop my ears, which are
throbbing painfully.
    “God damn it,” Stout bellows. “I don’t want my fucking house
torn to pieces. I suggest we pause the proceedings and take this outside to
blow off some steam the old-fashioned way.” A slow grin spreads across his
face. “Take a night ride.”
    “A night ride?” Diesel’s sardonic confusion is almost
comical. “Come on old man, get real.”
    Stout grimaces and whips a Baretta out of his waistband,
leveling it at Diesel. “Did I stutter?”
    “Night ride it is,” Diesel’s hands are in the air again,
surrendering.
    Jax and Striker laugh and the room starts to clear as
everyone leaks out the exits toward the driveway. I linger, quirking an eyebrow
at Stout, who looks awful smug.
    “Seems to me I remember that there are traditionally ladies
present at night rides,” I say, wiping my bloody knuckles on my jeans.
    Stout quirks an eyebrow right back at me and shoves his
Baretta back in his waistband as he turns and clumps back toward the kitchen. “Seems
to me I recall seeing a lady here tonight. Somewhere.”

 
    Chapter Six

    Harper
     
     
    Thank god that the pimply-faced teenager and the giant
mountain man that Dominic left here to guard me don’t seem to want to talk. I
close my eyes and pretend to sleep while the Prospect cleans up the mess I made
on the floor. When he finishes and settles into a chair by the window I roll
into a miserable ball on the other side of the bed and stare at the wall.
    I can’t tell if we’ve been