Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

moment, shaking my head, “get weed for me, right?”
    The man did not say a word. He kept his gaze fixated on me, as if we had both come to some mutual understanding that why yes, I could read people’s minds if I stared hard enough at the creases on their face.
    “If you can provide something for me,” I started, wrinkling my nose in suspicion, “tap the desk.”
    His knuckle rapped against the black, eloquently polished counter and my heart pulsed in my chest.
    “Cocaine?” There was no way in hell this guy was for real.
    Again his knuckle tapped two times.
    “What if I’ve fallen on some hard times?” I asked, “say that I need a couple thousand dollars to get by, through the month.”
    That familiar noise filled my ears. Something sinister slithered through the darkest canals of my mind. The heavy feeling cloaked itself around my person, and I had to look away from the Bartender’s cutting eyes for a moment.
    Our eyes met once more, “Could you make someone—“ my voice was unsteady, and a knife of hurt cut cleanly through me, “could you make, someone, you know, vanish?”
    The bartender’s face gave nothing away. His eyes moved from me to some approaching customers, and then he tapped the counter again with his knuckles.
    "Isn't it a bit brazen to be suggesting such things?" Suggesting wasn’t the right word. He was admitting.
    The Bartender cracked a sly smirk and glanced over at a couple sitting down at his bar counter. He looked back over at me, the seductive pumping and pulsing of synths going off in the background, "The people I work for are allowed to be brazen. I, am allowed to be brazen," the way he said it sent a chill up my spine, he looked so sure, so confident.
    I swallowed nothing and brushed a strand of my hair back, looking around the bar, feeling more paranoid than I should be. "But, what if--"
    “If what?" The man gave a small laugh, looking over to the couple drunkenly hounding him for drinks and putting up two fingers. He glanced back at me, "if you're with the law? A cop? I could throw you out on your ass, if that's what gets your rocks off.”
    “I’m not into that kinky stuff,” I didn’t fully believe the words coming out of my mouth, and I got the feeling that he didn’t buy it either.
    He snorted out a breath through his nose, “We both know you're not a cop," he shook his head, "Pooh Bear would have smelled your 5-0 ass coming a mile away, and a lesser man would've too. Look around you, killer," I felt a jolt of laughter roll inside of me. Pooh bear. Really? The Bartender made a gesture with his hand, and then slowly began to walk over to the hounding drink callers, "nobody here's on the right side of the law. Hell, most of them that wear blue still aren’t,” he called out.
    I watched the Bartender begin to service the rest of the bar, and the only thing that could go through my mind aside from the fact that the people here were absolutely crazy; was that the tough guy door man listens to country and goes by Pooh Bear.
    I wouldn't be able to print this shit even if I had camera and a microphone to back me up.
    I sat around the bar for a good long while, keeping my eyes and ears open; occasionally the Bartender, who was so gracious enough to give me his nickname after some further shooting of the shit, let me know that he goes by Lex. I tried to get him to open up as to why Pooh Bear was called as such, and if he really did listen to country music - but Lex could only stonewall me with 'some things are better kept secret, plus he's my friend. You don't embarrass your friends. Well, except when you do.'
    There was this one guy that caught my attention, much to my displeasure. He reeked of liquor and looked twice as smashed as anyone else in the still buzzing joint; which on closer submersion in the field, wasn’t as packed as it seemed. This drunk man had frazzled dark hair and maybe an inch or two of beard that was unkempt and groomed into the fashion of something