Page 58 of Blood Revealed

“Don’t you got men to hassle?” he asks.

“Not till I’m done with you,” Frankie says chirpily. From there, we help him from the bed and strip him down to his boxer briefs so we can clean his wounds. The bandages stick and it’s painful to watch him wince. This is why he needs us. He’s cleaned them as well as he can, but he’s lucky we care enough to show up today.

Once we’ve got him good on the medical front, we gather his laundry up, setting the basket by the door. We’ll take it with us and he’ll have to meet us at the laundromat because there’s no way we’re doing laundry here. Then the girls and I get down to scrubbing the walls, tackling his bathroom, and vacuuming.

We even make sure he’s got good food as we brought stuff with us for him to keep here in his room. I mean, my guess is that he doesn’t spend as much time with his brothers as the Lords spend with theirs because he has a mini fridge, microwave, and even a cabinet right there in his room. Even if I didn’t know the Horde were the scum of the universe, that would pretty much tell me what I need to know about them.

After finishing the cleaning and setting him up with a meal, we gather up the basket of clothing.

“How are you getting to the laundromat?” I ask.

“I’ll send someone. A woman. We got pussy who hang around here.”

“Nice,” Frankie says.

He shrugs. “What? The Horde aren’t the Lords, babe. That’s what they are. That’s their purpose for hangin’ around.”

“Right. Well, have her meet us at the Suds-town. I’ll call when we’re just about done.” Frankie grabs the doorknob. “Take care of yourself until we can get back here.”

“You’re not comin’ back here,” he grumbles as we walk out, Brinley closing the door behind her. Now we need to hopefully get back out without being seen by too many men.

Disgusting men. Well, not all of them. Vlad certainly isn’t disgusting. There are a few more members hanging in the common when we walk through. The Horde aren’t typically known for their eye candy, but um… damn. One pool table in particular has bad decisions gathered around.

One of them, longish blond hair, piercing blue eyes and full beard, glances up from taking his shot, catching my eyes. He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, considering me, and a scowl forms over that beautiful mouth of his.

“Oh—shit,” I whisper to my girls. “I think we’ve been made. Step it up.” Not looking back, we pick up our pace, then once we’ve all cleared the door, we run for my Jeep, shoving the laundry in the back next to Frankie. Brin and I climb into the front seat, I start the engine, and peel out.

The guard opens the door for me, winking as we leave. That almost didn’t end well. I hope we didn’t put Vlad in a compromising position, but I feel responsible for him. On the main drag, across from the Piggly-Wiggly, we pull into Suds-town, each of us carrying a basket of dirty laundry. There we set off separating whites from colors, taking up five washers at once. The faster we get this done, the better. At the end of the wash cycle, we load the clothes in several dryers, feeding the bills into the money slots to pay and setting the timers when Frankie’s phone rings.

“He says to leave his shit—we were definitely made. He’ll send pussy down. We need to get out now,” Frankie relays his message.

“Tell him we have the back five dryers going.”

I hear him yell, “I don’t give a fuck! Get out.”Okay. We hightail it out of the Suds-town back to my Jeep and get the hell out of Bentley, the Kentucky Horde’s base of operation. It takes us another half hour to make it home to Thornbriar, dropping Frankie off back at her truck. The three of us head up the mountain in a small precession. The new guy, we call him Noob, opens the gate for us.

Bikes fill the forecourt, which means the men are home. Brinley is so happy about seeing her man that she hops out, jogging for her place. Only, Hero steps out the front door before she reaches it and clomps down the steps. He’s followed by Scotch and Raif.

The three men stare us down, their arms folded over their massive chests, looking more than a little disgruntled. I stop short.

“Woman,” Raif barks. “Get your ass over here now.”

Uh-oh. “I’m good here,” I reply, digging my heels in.

Hero stares my sister down, speaking only to her. “What’s your name?” he asks.

She cocks her head. “Brinley,” she says.

“Brinley what?”

“Hendrix,” she answers.

“Right. Brinley Hendrix, because whose cock are you takin’?”

My sister takes her life in her hands by rolling her eyes. “Yours.”

“Okay. Got my name, takin’ my cock. My kid you’re carrying?”

“You know it is, Levi.” Now my sister folds her arms over her ample bosom, less scared than irritated. My baby sister has really come into her own as a biker’s old lady.

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