Page 5 of Monster

Tears of frustration burned my eyes, and I closed them, letting tears stream down my cheeks as I tried to control my anger and sadness.

Locked away.

I had many things to be grateful for in life.

Not being able to play piano wasn’t the end of the world.

But sometimes, it felt like it.

2

DOMINIC

One of mybrothers rode past me, patting his head to signal the bait had been taken, and I let out a loud fucking laugh that was drowned out by the noise of the motorcycle engine.

Fuck, yeah.

I revved up my engine and drove faster to keep up just as a cop car came into view in the side mirror.

The lights were flashing, and the poor fucker was trying to catch up.

He never would, not unless we slowed down, which we did. Marginally.

The California summer sun beat down on my skin, and I took in the open road spread out in front of me.

It was fucking freedom, and I couldn’t imagine trading this in for anything else.

I revved the engine up again, shooting my bike forward before slowing down, teasing the cop in the back.

Up ahead, the road split, and I looked over at Axel, the huge fucker I was riding along with. He nodded when he caught my eye.

He was thinking the same thing I was.

When we got to the split, I took a sharp left, and he went right.

I was disappointed when the fucker chased Axel instead of me.

I slowed and turned my bike around, watching the empty road for a beat before the ground beneath me rumbled.

A huge semi passed by, and I recognized the faces in the truck.

They grinned and made obscene hand signals out the window, eliciting a small chuckle from me. I shook my head.

I had no doubt Axel had ditched the cop by now, and it would be best if I got out of there before backup arrived.

I hopped off my bike, dug into the small leather pack strapped to the side, and pulled out the license plate, quickly nailing it on before I drove away.

I didn’t really have to be here, but fuck, did I miss the thrill and excitement of the chase. We’d distracted the cop to give our brothers in the truck enough time to cross the state line on its way to transport. There would be other brothers along the way to ensure the products would make it to their destination, making the King’s Men MC very fucking rich, and Julian Levine, our biggest client, very fucking happy.

Julian Levine fucking owned the world.

Or, more accurately, he and three other men owned FHM Capital, one of the biggest banks in the world that had clients from all over, most of them bringing in an annual income of ten figures or more.

I wasn’t fucking stupid.

The rich were corrupt and probably had their sticky little fingers in all sorts of depraved pies, but it had been a shock when Levin approached me, wanting to collaborate with the King’s Men.

We had a quiet and undisclosed partnership that was going on five years already, and I had brought the club to a state the fucking slimy former president couldn’t even dream of.

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