Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Carter Steele (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

and my nights back at the laundromat. There was no way that Patrick wouldn’t be watching this live through the room’s cameras.

Probably while sitting in the living room of my family’s home.

The realization simultaneously made me feel furious, and utterly powerless. Forcing myself to finish, I recounted all the major details like where we went, what we did and who, if anyone, we talked to. I had to include several personal things like real names of the bikers, whatever I was able to find out about their personalities, and some of the things they liked. Patrick knew that most of the information I would be collecting by virtue of proximity if nothing else would on Wreck himself so I had to write in detail about him.

That was by far the worst part. I liked the other MC members enough, but several of them I’d never even talked to before so it was a little easier to justify collecting their information. Wreck though… He was a man who literally saved my life and this was how I was repaying him?

The little mercies I could give were in what I left out of the day’s report. Patrick couldn’t see or hear everything while we were out so there was a bit of wiggle room in what I could omit. Teaching Wreck sign language was one of the things Patrick didn’t have to know about. It wouldn’t be enough to keep Wreck from harm though. I was standing in the pouring rain holding an umbrella trying to keep a whole field dry. My acts of rebellion seemed so small in the face of everything I was actually giving Patrick. Everything I wrote today seemed relatively tame or insignificant, but that didn’t matter. Patrick knew that Wreck would eventually slip up and tell me something he could use to crush Wreck and his MC when he was finished with them. When that happened I’d earn my freedom from Patrick and this whole life.

I’d be able to go home.

It was late and I was all alone with my thoughts which were spiraling into guilt. Pushing myself back from the computer, it was suddenly clear how much I needed a break. I hadn’t been working for very long, but this kind of work taxed me much more than anything I’d ever done before. I felt emotionally exhausted. Describing my day in agonizing detail for a man who would leverage it against someone I was coming to genuinely care about churned my stomach. If I didn’t get some fresh air and clear my head I was going to be sick.

Opening the office door, the silence of the second floor hallway was oppressive. With exception to a few of the girls who had just finished working their regulars in their rooms, the building was completely empty. Peak times during the week for us were typically noon and five PM. Men would slip out for their lunch breaks and between work and returning home to get a quickie with their favorite girl Evenings in the middle of the week were typically quiet, but for whatever reason tonight even more so.

A few steps into the hallway and I saw one of the doors shove open. I lowered my head, but didn’t try to hide in any way. As was typically the custom a man, slightly out of breath and satisfied with his fuck, made a beeline for the front door barely noticing his surroundings as he left.

They couldn’t wait to get in, and couldn’t stand to linger when they were done.

That was fine. Everyone here knew what this place was all about. It was only when I passed the room that I realized who it belonged to.

“Hey Jez,” Monica cooed with a weak half smile. The raven-haired girl lounged topless against the headboard of the bed propped up by pillows, counting the stack of cash she’d just received. The bruises on her arms almost made me feel bad for her, but considering the recent revelation that it was her that betrayed me with the memory stick I couldn’t muster any sympathy.

I signed nothing and narrowed my eyes at the woman who could have gotten me killed or worse.

“Jesus. What crawled up your ass?” Monica’s face soured at my open disdain for her. I couldn’t ever call her a friend by any means, but she’d always at least made the attempt to talk to me unlike most of the other girls who treated me like I had a contagious disease. None of the girls really knew the whole story, only that I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and got what I deserved. It was an open secret and a constant reminder that they shouldn’t ever do the same. Monica though, she was supposed to be one of the good ones.

Now, looking her over in the warm mood-lighting I could see her for what she really was... Patrick’s faithful puppet. She wasn’t friendly because she liked me. No, she was simply keeping tabs, spying on me to him.

“If you’re going to just stare at me like a fucking creep I’m going to have to charge you the full rate, honey,” Monica said, looking at me with a flat expressionless indifference, then she got up on sore legs, tucked her money into a drawer and walked over to me. She haunted the doorway a foot away from me, completely comfortable in her near nakedness. What did she have to be ashamed of? At least she wasn’t a poor, mute girl. “What is your problem, Jez?”

The anger in me boiled in my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but my lips refused to form any words. I wanted to scream, to demand answers but my body rebelled. Too much submission training over the years prevented me from being confrontational. What was I worth to her? Did she make a little more off each client, get some preferential treatment, or did she enjoy the power of knowing that she was making me