Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

shit was going to stop me. The shit was wrong and if I had to find my own proof and go over his head that is exactly what I would do. The problem is there is no fucking proof.

Besides the dead women and the missing babies. Unfortunately, that isn’t enough.

I am so wound up that I decided to take a ride up to Hastings. It’s a few hours away from the clubhouse but sometimes I need to just get away from everything. I’m hoping this weekend of R&R is just what I need to relax. I bought this cabin a few years back and though it doesn’t have all the amenities as some of the more expensive cabins it’s more than enough for me. It has only one floor, it has two bedrooms, a small general area, and a kitchenette. There is an outhouse and a small space designated for a firepit. The wildlife is plenty, I have to worry about bears and wolves all the time. Still, I wouldn’t give it up for the world. Something about this fresh air always seems to help me figure out what the hell is bothering me.

Being president of a motorcycle club may sound like a grand old fucking time but most of the time it was just responsibility after fucking responsibility dumped on me. Then add in the fact that the majority of my club were my actual little brothers and it just became more fucking stressful.

After Liam Jr. basically used his ties into the FBI to bully the Wings of Diablo, I promised myself and Wire that once I took the seat of president, I wouldn’t let shit like that happen again. Yeah, we would help out where we could. Get information where we could, but we would mostly be on the straight and narrow. It’s almost impossible to keep completely clean with all the dirt that goes on behind the scenes. It would be so much easier to force people to tell us what we wanted to know with a fucking gun to their heads. Shit always gets done that way.

I grab a beer out of the portable cooler that I have and sit back to drink it. My property is near Wild River but the next neighbor I have isn’t for miles. I’m pretty sure I could run outside buck ass naked and the only things I would disturb are a few opossums. I close my eyes and let the sounds of the area lull me into a state of peace. Only to have a braying cry snap my serenity.

“What the fuck is that?” I sit up quickly and look over to the window but I don’t see anything.

There is no way that I’m going to be able to be at one with nature when whatever the fuck that is, was screaming like that. It would be one thing if it sounded like it was being killed. Animals kill animals all the fucking time but this sounds like something is trapped. I don’t hunt, though I fish from time to time but I know the sound of a tortured animal when I hear one.

“Fucking hell.” I grab my sidearm and put it in the waist of my pants. I would either have to find a way to let the animal free or put it out of its misery. I throw my jacket on and step out, trying to let my ears zero in on the sound of the wounded animal. After a few seconds the animal wails out again and I follow the sound.

I have to hike up a steep mountain, making sure that I move slowly. It’s possible that the animal is some other animal’s meal and they just haven’t come back to kill it yet. I step to the side and something hard and metal springs up. I move my legs just in time as a huge trap springs closed.

“Motherfuckers,” I growl out as I look at the contraption. That shit would have broken my fucking ankle for sure “What fucking part of private fucking property do these fucks not understand?”

Poachers used inhumane traps to capture the animals that roamed through the forest. I don’t know how many damn signs I have up that say that hunting isn’t allowed on my fucking property yet every damn time I come over here I find at least half a dozen traps set out. I wish I could come one day and see one of the bastards laying them out. I would knock them the fuck out for trespassing and also for not at least properly labeling where the fuck they are laying their traps. My own land is like a fucking maze of mines. One day I was going to get fucking stuck and be shit out of luck. No one would come looking for me for days.

I pick up the sprung trap and pick up a long stick as I make my way to the still crying animal. I poke at the area around my feet before I take another step just to make sure that there are no traps there. I mean it wouldn’t make sense to put them so close together but then again, some of these poachers aren’t the smartest fucking people in town.

In fact, before I even make it to the crying animal, I find three more traps, all of them seem to look fairly old. They must have been here all through the winter season. It was nearly summertime now. I need to do a better job of sweeping for these things, unfortunately I don’t spend much time out here.

The crying gets louder and I look down into a small gorge to see a full-grown male deer stuck in one of the traps. He is actually quite far away from my cabin but the gorge just amplified the sound of him crying. I had to be careful when getting close to him, his antlers were full grown and one fucking swipe of them